Out of Her League (16 page)

She slid her hand into the gap of his
shirt, running her fingers through the coarse hair beneath. His skin was warm, and
when she pulled back for a second, she could see the flush on his cheeks
working down his neck and across his chest. His normally bright green eyes were
dark, the color barely discernable in the light coming in through the patio
doors.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his
hoarse voice quiet.

She laughed. “I don’t drop my dress in the
foyer for just anyone, you know.”

“Good,” he said, kissing her again, his
hand low on her back pulling her in until she could grind against his erection.

She didn’t know if he thought it was good
that she was sure or because she didn’t drop her dress for just anyone, but
right now it didn’t matter. Both got her what she wanted.

Except for the other night, it had been so
long since she’d had this. What felt like eons, now that she’d been reminded of
what she’d been missing. She wanted to linger, to taste and touch every part of
him, to drive him wild, but she was too far gone, and he was just as primed.
The low sounds he made as they writhed up against each other caught in his
throat every time her hip pinned his cock back against him.

Her knees shook, her thighs trembling with
the desire to wrap around him, but she had other things in mind, too. She
shoved her hands between them, tearing at his pants. He gasped, breaking their
kiss and pressing his mouth to her shoulder.

“Fuck,” he groaned, mouthing the word, and a
few kisses besides, up her neck. “I was going to go slow this time. I was going
to spread you out on a bed and take my fucking time. Take you apart.”

“No. Yes.” She whimpered nonsensically,
arching her throat against his lips. “I want that. I want you to do that,” she
babbled. She finally managed to get his pants open without even looking at what
she was doing and shoved them down.

They hit the kitchen floor with a thump,
weighted down by whatever was in his pockets.

“But I can’t wait that long,” she admitted,
ducking her head to seal her lips to his again, the last words muttered against
his lips. “I need you to fuck me. Now.”

He gasped into her mouth, his hands
scrambling at her waist. Eventually he dug his fingers into her strapless,
backless bra and growled.

“Why are you always wearing such
complicated clothing?”

She half laughed, half groaned. Next time
she was alone with him, she’d be tempted to wear a t-shirt and her rattiest old
yoga pants. Clothes she hadn’t dared wear outside the house in years. But
Lachlan didn’t care what she wore. What she looked like. That wasn’t why they
were friends.

He gave up on her clothes and pressed his hands
along her jaw, tilting her head to deepen his kiss. She sank into it, giving
herself up to the pulse pounding in her chest and her ears and her clit.
Wallowing in the complete absence of
nerves
. Not since…well, the douchebag—who
she refused to think about tonight—had it been like this. So
easy
.

The open edges of his shirt brushed against
her breasts, teasing sensitive skin and catching on the lace, and she wanted
the damn body armor off as much as he did. She arched her back, crushing her
breasts against his chest as she thrust her hands behind her. He drew his lips
down, licking and sucking down her neck and to the tops of her breasts, his big
hands spanning her waist. She managed to get the first hook undone and from
there it was easy.

The moment her bra hit the floor, he drew
one nipple into the wet heat of his mouth. She cried out, carding her fingers
into his hair and cupping the back of his head, holding him close. He wasn’t
gentle, sucking hard on one nipple, then kissing a path to the other. The
sensations combined with the rush of cool relief racing over her skin from being
freed from the stays that had been digging into her all night, allowing her to
take a desperately needed deep, deep breath. Her head spun.

 He bit down and she wavered dangerously on
her heels, the spike of pleasure running right down her belly to her clit. God,
she ached. She wanted something in her. She wanted
him
in her.

Now.

She curled her hand around his cock, but couldn’t
get a good grip with the way he was bent over lavishing attention on her
breasts, even with how it was pushing hard against the front of his briefs.

Goddamn, sometime they were
really
going
to have to do this when they could lie down and take their time.

She ran her fingers along his shaft,
already intimately familiar with the length and breadth of it from their
adventure in Robby’s dressing room, and the car earlier tonight. He was thick,
enough to be heavy on her tongue. Thicker than Mr. Big in the box beneath her
bed. And almost as long.

And while he didn’t vibrate, he pushed into
her hand and groaned and grabbed her hips so hard he might leave bruises. And
that was better.

He also kissed. And goddamn, she’d
forgotten how much she loved to kiss and be kissed. How could she have
forgotten that?

In answer, the tiny part of her brain not
currently completely focused on shouting “fuck him now!” gave a meek cry of
“self-preservation”.

Mr. Big may have been lacking in many
departments, but she trusted him. And that was another thing he and Lachlan had
in common. She trusted him. Completely. And who knew when she would have that
again?

She staggered back, forcing Lachlan to
release her nipple with an obscene and almost painful pop. Her body throbbed in
response.

“Come here,” she said in a low voice,
tugging the hand he held out for her to draw him across the kitchen. He
hesitated only long enough to dig something from the pocket of his slacks on
the floor, then followed.

She was fascinated by the remarkably tight
and tiny briefs clinging to his hips and doing battle with his cock. Robby had
scolded him not to wear boxers or even boxer briefs and risk ruining the line
of his beautifully tailored tuxedo. Lachlan had apparently listened. She’d
always thought she wasn’t that into tight little underwear on men. For the life
of her, she couldn’t imagine why she’d ever been that stupid.

She was startled when her ass bumped into
her table. She leaned there, panting.

“We’re not going to make it to a bed this
time either, are we?” he asked, almost regretfully. His eyes were fixed on the
junction of her thighs.

She shook her head. “I don’t think I can
make it that far,” she admitted.

He met her eyes and smiled. “Shame,” he
murmured, only his expression said something else entirely. He looked downright
predatory, and she shivered in response.

Seriously,
who was this guy?
How
could her slightly preppy, completely nerdy professor be so fucking hot?

She watched, mesmerized, as he reached out
and tucked whatever he was holding on the table behind her, then hooked his
fingers into her G-string at both hips. She’d had little choice in what gown to
wear that evening, needing to cover the evidence of their first encounter, but
the underwear she’d shamelessly selected with just this in mind.

He slowly peeled her panties down and
helped her step out of them. He didn’t stand then, as she’d expected, but
dropped his knees to the floor and smiled up at her.

“Up,” he said, his hands rubbing back up
over her stockings to curl around her thighs.

“Up?” she asked, her brain shorting out as
he licked his lips.

His fingers dug into her skin, just enough
to nudge her back, her ass tilting from leaning-against to perching-on the
table. The moment her weight shifted, he drew one of her legs up and draped it
over his shoulder, his breath hot on her inner thigh. Then his lips were there.
His tongue, swirling over the sensitive skin before sucking it between his
teeth.

“Oh,” she breathed, planting her hands on
the table behind her, unable to look away from his gaze as he released her
freshly-bruised skin and edged closer. She spread her legs until the other foot
left the floor and she hung, suspended, above him. He clamped a hand around her
thigh and pushed it farther up and out.

A helpless thrill raced up her spine at
being so exposed. She’d never felt more helpless and
eager
in her life.
Maybe she should have been embarrassed. Some part of her wanted to put a hand
over her pussy, laid bare before him. She could see how her clit poked out,
swollen and begging for attention. How her thighs glistened in the low light,
her arousal slicking her skin even before she’d spread herself open for him.

But there was nothing embarrassing about
the way he studied her, his eyelids heavy, lips a little swollen from their
kisses. He glanced up, checking her face once more for who knew what, then slid
his tongue right over her clit and sucked it in. Hard.

She almost fell off the table, her
fingernails skittering over the cold wood behind her, searching for purchase as
her back bowed into the pressure.

“Oh, Jesus,” she gasped, shoving herself
against his face. Some part of her made a bid for shame, the same part that had
held her head high and refused to be cowed in public for the past decade
screeching that this wasn’t safe, this wasn’t good form, but she squashed it
ruthlessly.

There was no place for that with him. She
didn’t have to worry what he thought. Not because it didn’t matter. Because she
was sure, from the look on his face and the clutch of his fingers and the
intimate hum he pressed directly to her clitoris, making it buzz and her gasp,
that he wasn’t judging her. Certainly not poorly, in any case.

As if reading her mind, his eyes flicked up
to her face, and she could read his smile in his eyes almost as well as she
could feel it against her clit.

It was the hottest thing she’d ever fucking
seen.

He released her with a final, shockingly
hard suck that made her hips buck hard enough that she would have fallen right
off the table if it weren’t for his long fingers clamped around her thighs. Then
he thrust the point of his tongue under the hood of her clit, flicking it
quickly, fiercely, over and over.

Her eyes fell closed and she groaned, not
bothering to even attempt to hold still. “Yes, like that,” she panted. “Fuck,
I’m going to come.”

He hummed again, and she took that as
encouragement as he drove her higher, relentless. She couldn’t stop the high,
keening sounds from escaping her throat, her head falling back as the tension
coiled tighter and hotter.

“Please,
please
,” she pleaded, and maybe
it was to god, since it wasn’t like Lachlan needed any encouragement.

He listened, though, sinking two fingers
into her pussy.

She fluttered around them, surprised by
their penetration. The second thrust, though, was enough. She clamped down hard
and came.

“Lachlan!” she shouted, her hips snapping
forward to force herself onto his hand and against his tongue. He shoved back,
holding her steady, riding out the uncontrollable movement of her hips, gasping
against her when her foot struck his back and dug in.

He didn’t let her fall, not off the table
or down from her climax, his tongue keeping the powerful ripples going until
she jerked away, taking one hand from the table to shove into his hair and
force his mouth from her oversensitive clit.

He was panting as hard as she was, his lips
shiny, his cheeks flushed a hectic red.

“Can you do that again?” he asked, wiping
his mouth against his own shoulder and leaving behind the gleaming evidence of
what they’d just done.

She had to take several deep breaths to get
enough brain function to parse the words.

“What? Orgasm?”

His nod was little more than a quick jerk
of his head. She looked down to see he had the heel of his hand pressed to his
dick hard enough that it had to hurt.

“I…yes? Sometimes. I think. I mean. Yes.
Now, yes.” She gave up trying to make any sense and went for clarity. “
Hurry.”

That seemed to work, given the way he slid
her legs back to the floor, thoughtful enough to hesitate before letting go,
making sure she could actually support her own weight. It was a near thing,
god’s truth.

Then he stood and shoved his briefs to the
floor.

Yes, finally!
She reached out to curl her hand around his cock, tugging him
closer, tipping her chin up.

His hand slid around her neck and into her
hair, his lips hot and possessive on hers as she ran her fist over his shaft,
squeezing over the head before traveling down again. He stepped closer, until
there wasn’t room for her arm between them, his cock dragging up over her
belly, leaving a sticky trail.

The kiss turned filthy, his tongue touching
every corner of her mouth, her hair coming unpinned and tangling around his
fingers. She licked her own taste from his mouth, his lips, and wrapped her
legs around his hips, whining with frustration when it became clear he was too
tall for her to get what she wanted with her on the table like this.

He apparently agreed. He wrapped his hands
around her ankles and pried himself loose. She reached for him, but he yanked over
one of her chairs and collapsed into it before she could grab hold.

With a crooked smile, he watched her face
as he reached behind her for the little foil packet he’d apparently been
keeping close at hand, tore it open, and rolled it on. His cock stood tall and
proud when he was done.

He arched an eyebrow and she laughed.
“Fucking Boy Scout,” she murmured, climbing unsteadily to her feet between his
spread knees, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

Well, she’d looked forward to being back in
the saddle again, she just hadn’t expected to be the one literally doing the riding
when they got to this.

Not that she was complaining.