Breaking Tackles: A Taking Flight Novel (17 page)

“Is this okay?” I ask softly.

“Yeah,” she says, smiling. “It’s very okay.”

Hot damn.

She shrugs herself out of her bra and throws it onto the floor. After a couple moments, she says, “Maybe I should’ve said no. You’re too distracted by my boobs to even do anything.”

“They are very distracting,” I say. “Mostly because they’re perfect.”

I kiss her again, softly, before moving to her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, and then to her breast, circling her nipple with my tongue before softly catching it between my teeth and pulling gently.

“Whoa,” she says out loud, and I immediately stop.

“Sorry.”

“No,” she says. “That was a good
whoa
.”

Praise God.

I move to her other breast, repeating the motion, and she threads her fingers through my hair, gripping it as I continue to give her breasts the proper attention. Her hands drift down my back, nails grazing lightly down and then back up again. It makes me crazy.

I want this girl more than anything else in life.

Which means I have to be patient. I have to let her call all the shots.

“Okay,” she says. “Let’s lose the pants.”

“Seriously?” I ask immediately, shocked at this.

“Seriously,” she says. “I’m not sure what else I’m gonna be okay with, but I know that I’m tired of having jeans on.”

I immediately unbutton her jeans and she arches her back, giving me more clearance to remove them. She’s wearing simple black panties—no lace, no frills, no tiny, pointless bows—and she looks fucking incredible.

“God, Court.”

“Is that good or bad?” she asks.

“Good. So good.”

“Come here,” she says, and I quickly drop my own jeans before joining her on the bed.

“I think you’ve somehow become even more muscled than I remember,” she says, running her hands down my arms.

“Well, it is kind of my job these days.”

“You do realize how incredibly hot you are, right?”

“Nope,” I say, kissing her temple. “But I know how incredibly gorgeous you are.”

“You’re just trying to get in my pants.”

“Well, yes,” I say. “And it seems to be working.”

We hold each other’s gaze for a moment before she cracks a small and begins laughing. I join her, but then am quickly gasping because her hand has traveled down the length of my body and then lower than she’s ever let it before, until she’s palming me through my briefs.

I groan and say, “Courtney, if you’re not ready for more, you’re going to have to stop that.”

Her eyes widen and I say, “I don’t necessarily mean sex. But I’m going to need something if you keep touching me like that.”

A look of resolve crosses her face, and she slowly walks her fingers up my dick until she hooks her index finger in the band of my underwear and begins pulling them down, inch by excruciating inch. When my underwear is at my knees, I pull them off the rest of the way as she moves so that she’s straddling me. Then she wraps her hand around me and slowly, tentatively, begins stroking up and down.

It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt.

“Is this right?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “You can go faster, though. And grip tighter if you want.”

She nods and a serious expression crosses her fast as she follows my directions. The way that she’s straddling me, I can feel the heat from her through her underwear and it turns me on even more.

I want to touch her. I want to know how much she wants me.

“Tell me what to do,” she says.

“You’re doing a damn good job,” I say, my head spinning from the sensation of what she’s doing.

“Do you want anything else?” she asks, and I can’t help but love how much she wants to please me.

“Of course I do,” I say. “But that’s up to you.”

My eyes stay on her as a playful expression crosses her face and she shifts her gaze to my dick.

I have no idea what that expression means, but I’m excited to find out.

Courtney

I have no idea what’s come over me.

Last night I was telling my friends how completely terrified of sex I am and tonight I’m nearly entirely naked and contemplating giving my fiancé a blow job.

I know it’s not quite the same as sex. But it’s more than I’ve ever done.

And the idea of it
excites
me.

I love seeing how he responds to me, how his eyes light up when he looks at me in only my underwear, how his head falls back when I’m touching him, and his eyes flicker closed when my hand passes over the tip of his erection. I love how ragged his breathing is and knowing that
I’m
making him feel like
that
.

For the first time I truly feel sexy and empowered and bold and completely turned on.

But does that mean I’m ready for sex?

I look at Adam and it’s clear what he’s feeling and how much he wants me. He’s damn near begging, but letting me have total control over what’s happening.

I’m fairly certain there is nothing sexier than hearing him tell me that he wants me but that everything is up to me.

Am I ready to give up that power?

Will I be giving up that power if I have sex with him?

“God, Courtney, I’m getting close,” he says, his voice low and his eyes the darkest blue I’ve ever seen them.

Without thinking more about it, I lower my body and take him into my mouth. He groans as my lips close around him and my tongue starts working of its own accord. His hand is in my hair, and he says, “Oh my God, just like that.”

I continue and he keeps talking, telling me how good it feels and how perfect I am and how hot I look right now. Normally when he says those things to me, I feel self-conscious and awkward, but right now I feel like a freaking goddess.

Who knew?

Maybe Kate is right—maybe I should just do it.

“Courtney, I’m going to come,” Adam says, and I’m not sure exactly what to do. As I’m trying to figure out what’s best, I feel him tense up in my mouth and I know that I’ve run out of time. He makes the sexiest grunting noise I’ve ever heard and I let my instincts take over, not thinking about what just happened.

Because I’m pretty sure if I think about it, it’ll gross me out.

“Holy shit,” he says as I move up the bed toward him. “You’re so amazing.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

He pulls me closer to him and says, “I fucking loved it.”

I feel deeply satisfied in hearing that and nuzzle my face into his neck.

“Courtney?” he asks.

“Yeah?”

“Will you let me get you off?”

The bluntness of his question surprises me, but shockingly doesn’t scare me.

“Can you already?” I ask.

“Oh,” he says, his eyes growing to the size of saucers. “I didn’t necessarily mean—I mean, unless you want?”

“I think I want,” I say, suddenly aware of how very much I’m aching for him.

“Can I feel you?” he asks. “I’m going to need a minute, but I think that’ll help.”

I nod and he kisses me softly, reverently, as he gently rolls me onto my back and works a hand down my body and into my underwear.

I’m aware of everything as his fingers touch me where I’ve wanted them most but was too afraid to acknowledge, and I gasp at the insane feeling.

“Hot damn, Courtney,” he says gruffly.

I can’t help but laugh a little at that, but the laugh quickly turns into a moan. The feeling is intense and overwhelming and almost too much. Almost.

And though it’s so many things, I want more of it.

I arch into his hand, and he moves my underwear down my legs and then says, “Take a deep breath.”

I do, and as I feel a sharp pressure inside me, I realize what’s happened.

“Oh my God,” I say.

“Are you okay? Am I hurting you?”

“Yes. No.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

I consider it for a second, but say, “No. God, no.”

His fingers begin moving and he’s rubbing me with his thumb, and my vision goes black and bright at the same time.

“Adam, what, holy,
oh
.”

He laughs low and says, “That good?”

“
Yes
.”

I make a noise I never thought possible for me to make and he says, “Are you close?”

“I have no idea.”

Because I’ve never had an orgasm and honestly have no idea.

“It’ll get really intense,” he says. “And, I mean, I’ve never experienced it the way women do, but, uh, well, I think you’ll just know.”

My stomach tightens and I feel as if something is building inside me, preparing to explode. It’s so much. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

“Adam?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“I think—” I interrupt myself with a moan as he lowers his mouth and sucks at the spot his thumb was. The feeling vibrates and pulls and oh my God I feel like I’m breaking apart.

He continues using his mouth and his fingers and I’m pretty sure that I’m going to spontaneously combust. And I don’t even care.

Suddenly everything that has been tightening in my stomach seems to move down and my body feels nearly numb, except that it isn’t—I’m completely aware of what’s happening and feeling absolutely everything to the point that nothing exists but what I’m feeling.

And then I feel like I’m falling and floating. Like I’m totally lost to myself. Like I have no idea who or where I am and I don’t
care
.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Adam says, kissing up my stomach, my chest, my throat.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi,” he says back, laughing. “Welcome back.”

“That was crazy.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Definitely,” I say.

“Do you need a minute?” he asks. “Because…” He trails off as he grabs my hand and moves it to feel him. I think it’s possible that he’s harder now than he was earlier.

From just feeling him, I feel myself starting to heat up again and I know that I’m ready. Really ready.

“Do you have a condom?” I ask.

There’s never been any reason for me to be on the pill, and I’m sure as shit not getting pregnant my first time, even if it is with my fiancé.

“Yeah,” he says, jumping up and unzipping a pocket of his suitcase. He looks in and then zips the pocket back up before unzipping a different pocket, looking, reaching in, and then zipping it back up.

“Weird,” he says. “I could have sworn I threw an entire box in there.”

“We don’t need an entire box,” I say. “Do you have one in your wallet?”

“No,” he says. “I was always too afraid it’d fall out while I was paying for something and I’d be mortified.”

“Well, if you think you put a box in your bag, it has to be there,” I say, getting up to help him look.

But there are no condoms.

“Shit,” he says. “They must be sitting on my bathroom counter in New Orleans.”

“It’s okay,” I say, though I feel entirely disappointed.

“I could call Deeks and ask if he has any,” Adam says.

“No,” I say automatically. “
That
is more mortifying than it falling out of your wallet.”

“I’m sure the front desk has some,” he says. “They’ll charge it to the room or something.”

I know I should just say, “Yes, call Deeks, call the concierge, call whomever you want to get a freaking condom so I can finally have sex with you.” But my face burns with embarrassment at the thought of strangers knowing what we’re doing in here. That we’re at a hotel having sex. Which is what prostitutes do. They have sex in hotel rooms.

I know that I’m not a prostitute, that what we’re doing isn’t dirty or gross or something to be ashamed of, but the resolve I felt early has begun to slip and suddenly I’m very aware of the fact that I’m naked
with the light on
.

I look down and see the softness of my stomach and immediately cross my arms to hide it. I look at Adam—my fiancé who is built like Adonis—and suddenly feel like a blob despite my weight loss.

I have to lose more weight. I have to keep working out. I need to look as good as he does to me when he looks at me.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I, uh, I’m… Well. Do you really want other people to know that we’re turned on and condom-less?”

“I will go completely caveman and run naked up and down the halls until one of my teammates gives me a condom,” he says, his eyes drinking me in. Earlier that made me feel amazing. Now I feel self-conscious. “But if you don’t want anyone to know, then I won’t do that. We can wait until another time.”

I nod and say, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop that,” he says, suddenly beside me in one step and putting his arm around me, pulling me to him. “Tonight has been amazing.”

“Okay,” I say before yawning.

“Did I tire you out?” he asks, grinning.

“I think so,” I say, turning away from him and quickly pulling a big T-shirt out of my bag and putting it on.

“You even make a T-shirt sexy,” he says. “I am the luckiest man on the planet.”

“You’re going to be exhausted tomorrow if you don’t get to bed.”

“Probably true,” he says, pulling on clean briefs. “Let’s get some sleep.”

I hit the lights and we climb into bed, snuggling against each other.

“I love you, Courtney.”

“I love you, too.”

Adam sighs dreamily against the back of my neck and is asleep within seconds.

Looks like you’re the one tired out
I think ruefully before I become completely embarrassed by the memory of what we—what I—did.

Who was that girl? The one who felt sexy and confident, the one who had no qualms about being naked and the thought of sex.

And, if she is part of me, why am I not like her all the time?