Behind the Net: Chapter 37

WAVES OF PLEASURE pulse between my legs, and I can’t think, I can’t speak, I can’t even breathe—I’m just clamping down around nothing, shaking in his lap as he holds me against him.

“Good girl,” Jamie growls. “Such a good fucking girl for me, coming so hard.”

A noise I’ve never heard myself make slips out of me, half-moan, half-cry, and he holds the toy against my clit as intense pleasure radiates through me.

“Oh my god,” I cry. “Jamie.”

He groans, clicking the toy down one speed. “You’re doing so fucking good, Pippa. Keep going. Ride it out, baby.”

He lowers the speed one more click, and I’m still there, floating and totally paralyzed in euphoria. I’ve never come for this long. I’ve never come this hard. I feel like I’m being turned inside out. Heat spreads out from my center, and I can feel everything—the way his hard chest feels against my back, how his big arm locks me against him, the brush of his thighs against mine, his lips on my neck, urging me on.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore, and my hand covers his. He pulls the toy away, and I collapse against his body.

Holy shit.

I’m still shaking with aftershocks, hips tilting against his erection.

“Stop that,” he tells me, and I laugh, dazed.

“Or what?” I press against him again, and this time, his hips press forward to meet me, cock pushing into my ass.

Something tugs inside me, knowing how badly he wants me.

I pull out of his grasp, turning to kneel between his legs, and our eyes lock as he sits against the headboard, watching me. His deep green eyes are glazed with lust, and there’s another twinge of warmth where he pressed the toy moments before. I can see the shape of his cock, distorting the front of his black boxers, and my center heats.

When I drag my gaze up to Jamie’s, his expression is pained.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he begs, nostrils flaring. “This was supposed to be about you.”

My eyes drop again to his cock, and it pulses under my gaze. I shoot him a knowing grin.

Busted.

As my gaze traces his torso, all the ridges and valleys, smooth chest and hard lines of his abs, I’m overcome with the urge to take care of him, to provide him with something no one else can. He’s so controlled, so careful, so militant about everything, but right now, I just want him to feel overwhelming pleasure like I did a few moments ago.

I reach out and stroke his length over the fabric of his boxers.

“Fuck,” he mutters, head falling back against the bed frame. His eyes are half-lidded.

His reaction spurs me on, and I give him another slow stroke. He’s so hard, so thick, and when I think about what he would feel like inside me, my thighs squeeze together.

I already know it would be so good. It might even hurt a bit, and I’m weirdly turned on by that.

On my next stroke, I linger at the head, running my thumb over it. The fabric is damp with pre-cum, and he lets out a low groan, jaw tightening.

“Oh, fuck, Pippa.”

His jaw clenches again, and I feel drunk with power. I’m barely touching him, and I have him making all these noises that I’m going to remember while I’m using the toy next time. Something bold streaks through me, and I pull the waistband of his boxers down, letting his cock spring free.

Jamie’s cock is gorgeous—thick and long and hard. The best-looking cock I’ve ever seen. No wonder he gives it so much attention in his room. Pre-cum beads on the tip, and when I drag my thumb through it, he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Is this okay?” I ask softly.

He jerks a nod. I lift my thumb to my lips and suck the salty taste off, and his Adam’s apple bobs.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters in a ragged voice. His eyes pin me, so bright and full of intensity that I shiver. “Did you like that?”

I nod, smiling at him before I return to stroking him. “You’re fun to play with.”

On the next stroke, he moans. “Fun to play with,” he repeats, watching me work his cock. He’s so thick. More liquid beads at the tip, and when I slip my other hand around his balls, his big thighs tense.

“Shit,” he gasps. “If you don’t stop that, I’m going to come all over your tits.”

Heat rushes to my pussy, and my lips part in excitement and surprise. I want that. I want that so bad. I keep working his cock. Fascinated by his reaction, I give his balls a gentle squeeze. He frowns, lips parted, and I feel like I have him under my complete control right now.

I love it.

“Take your boxers off,” I whisper.

As soon as he does, my hands are back on him. I stroke him faster, and he curses again.

“Pippa,” he warns. His hands clench at his sides and his eyelids droop like he’s about to pass out. His strained abs ripple.

I’m soaking wet, jerking Jamie Streicher off. His shoulders tighten as he sinks his hands into his hair. His expression is strained, his breathing is rapid, and he can’t look away from me. I don’t need to try to memorize this moment; I know I’ll never forget this.

In my hand, his cock pulses, and he nods, letting out a loud moan. “Gonna come, baby. Gonna come all over your gorgeous tits.”

My eyes are wide. “Do it.”

He hunches over, groaning. Cum shoots out of his cock and coats my chest as I continue stroking him, and when I think he’s done, he isn’t. He keeps coming, watching me with that agonized expression I love while he sprays liquid onto my breasts. It’s covering my hands, it’s on my tits, and it’s dripping down my stomach.

“My fucking god, Pippa,” he mutters, catching his breath, watching me with something that looks like awe. “You made me come so hard.” His gaze drops to my chest and the corner of his mouth pulls up into a satisfied smirk. He dips a long finger through his cum before looking at my mouth.

“Open.”

I do as I’m told. My face heats but so does the apex of my legs—I love it when he tells me what to do. He slides his finger into my mouth, and I moan at the taste of him, sucking his finger and letting my tongue swirl around it.

He groans again as he takes his hand back. “Jesus.”

I light up with a delighted grin. He rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth tugs into a sated smile. He leans forward to press a soft kiss to my mouth.

“I knew you could do it,” he whispers. His hand drifts to the back of my neck. It’s so warm, so comforting, so nice. I’m never leaving this bed.

He kisses me, and instead of urgent and demanding like before, he’s soft, sweet, gentle, like he’s cherishing me. My thoughts float in the air, my skin tingles, and I sigh into him.

My god. Is that what sex is like for other people? What the hell was I doing with Zach all those years?

“You okay?” he murmurs, pulling back to search my eyes.

“Yes.” I nod, breathless.

I’m more than okay. I’m a thousand times better than when we walked into this room.

He gives me one more kiss before pulling away. “Stay there.”

He returns a moment later with washcloths to clean me up, and my pulse stumbles at the two sides of him—demanding and bossy versus sweet and caring. I watch his toned ass and powerful thighs as he walks away. When he returns, wearing clean boxers and holding a glass of water, he’s still wearing that sated expression, that smirk as his eyes rake over me, and I can’t help but grin at him.

“What time is it? I should walk Daisy again.”

“I’ll do it,” he says, digging through his pants pocket for his phone. “You stay here.” He pulls his phone out, and his expression changes. “Shit,” he murmurs, frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

He already has the phone at his ear. “I have six missed calls from my mom.”