Page 50 of Home Town Advantage (Fourth Quarter Fever #1)

I look down to type on my phone.

Me: Your face is red. I know you’re dripping for me, baby. Tell me, how wet are you right now?

Her phone vibrates again. She looks at it and starts typing.

Sulley: Probably about as hard as you are.

Me: Prove it.

I see her pinch her eyebrows together as she types.

Sulley: How?

Me: Touch yourself. Slip your fingers into your tight cunt and then show me the evidence.

Her eyes widen as they meet mine again. She swivels her head around to see if anyone besides me is watching her. They aren’t. They’re all busy chatting away.

Her right hand disappears under the table. I lean as far back as I can so I can try to watch what she’s doing under the table. Damn, I can’t see.

I lift my head back up and stare into her eyes. I know the moment she reaches her target because she shivers ever so slightly.

After a few seconds, her hand reappears, and she holds up two fingers for me to see the clear evidence of her arousal. Her fingertips are glistening. Fuuuuck. So hot.

I’m about to give her more instructions when she stares me in the eyes and brings her fingers to her mouth, slipping them inside and wrapping those red-painted lips around them. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks on them.

I’m slack-jawed right now. Hard as stone. I would kill to be the one tasting her. I would equally kill for that to be my cock inside her mouth.

I type on my phone again.

Me: My turn. I want to taste you too. Make it happen. Get creative.

I have no idea how, but she’s a smart girl. She’ll figure it out.

After reading her phone, she looks around, clearly thinking of a way to oblige. Her head stops. I turn to see what she’s looking at. The waitress is making her way to our table with a fresh set of drinks. She smiles as though something has occurred to her.

Her hand disappears under the table again. When the waitress arrives, she sets the tray on the table. Sulley begins helping her distribute the drinks. When she gets to my beer, Sulley runs her juice-covered fingers around the rim of my bottle several times before handing it to me.

I nod my head at her in gratitude when she hands it to me, immediately licking around the rim. I can taste her saltiness on there. I’m squeezing the bottle so hard it’s a wonder it doesn’t shatter in my hand.

I pull out my phone again.

Me: Make an excuse to get up. Meet me on the dance floor in two minutes.

About a minute after Sulley leaves, I stand. Looking down at Daylen, I say, “I’m going to hit the head. I might head out after.”

He’s barely listening, with his attention elsewhere. I don’t care where. He mumbles, “See you in the morning.”

I walk down the stairs. I think I can count on one hand how many times I’ve been on the dance floor in all the years I’ve been coming here. There must be two hundred people out here, all rubbing against each other. Ugh. Disgusting. I don’t know why Daylen loves being down here so much.

When I see people randomly making out, it becomes crystal clear why he likes it so much. Fucking sex maniac.

I pull my baseball cap down. It’s crowded, but I’m tall and recognizable. I don’t need fangirl, groupie shit right now.

How the hell am I going to find her in this massive sea of people?

The thought is still trickling through my mind when I feel arms snake around my body.

Delicate hands move from my chest to my abs.

Normally, I’d assume it’s a random woman trying to touch me, but I can smell Sulley.

My body immediately reacts to her coconut scent.

I turn around and see her beautifully flushed face and lust-filled eyes. Taking in her entire outfit, I realize that not only is she in a short skirt, but she’s in high boots. Her legs look even longer in those. I ache to fuck her in nothing but those boots.

I look around at all the people, none of whom notice us, lost in their own dance partners and good times. Despite the crowd size, the number of people and the darkness afford us some anonymity. The lights are strobing, making it hard to see anyone or anything.

Unable to wait a second longer, I pull her body to mine. I’m a shitty dancer, but I sway us to the beat just so we can grind against each other. It was like I couldn’t breathe for two weeks, and now I finally can. She’s my breath of fresh air. My oxygen. My everything.

Her hands find my hair and her tits press to my chest as she runs her tongue up my neck until she reaches my lips. She sucks on my bottom lip, and I completely lose control. Grabbing her ass, I shamelessly grind my erection through her.

She lets out a moan, and I have to kiss her.

I can’t wait any longer. As though it’s a choreographed dance, our lips come together and our tongues push into each other’s mouths.

We both lose ourselves and begin fully making out.

Despite my love for being intimate in public settings, I’ve never been this obvious, but I don’t care. I need her.

My hands move around her body without any inhibition. Her fingers tug on my hair, making my cock leak in anticipation of what I know is going to happen tonight.

My knee pushes between her legs, spreading them for me, giving me the access I need. I run my hand up the front of her soft, smooth thigh. She tilts her body, encouraging my sensual path.

My fingertips ascend until they find purchase as I encounter her soaked panties. Knowing she’s as turned on as I am gives me the courage to slip them to the side and run my fingers through her. She’s wet and swollen. She always is for me.

If someone were paying attention to us, they’d know exactly what we’re doing, but I’m finding I just don’t care, and, from the looks of things, they don’t either.

My fingers easily glide into her tight warmth. Her juices immediately coat my fingers. She gets as turned on by our public sex acts as I do. She was made for me .

My mouth moves to her neck, close to her ear, so she can hear me over the loud beat of the music. “Do you like my fingers fucking you in front of all these people?” I ask as I push deep inside her with two fingers.

Her grip on my hair tightens, and she tilts her head back and moans. She’s swiveling her hips and pushing down to deepen the thrusts of my fingers. She’s completely lost in the moment.

I look down at her. I’ve got one hand inside her and the other now threaded through the back of her hair. Her face is beautifully flushed, and her eyelids are fluttering. She may seem completely at my mercy right now, but the truth is clear as day: I’m the one at her mercy.

Her mouth smashes to mine again, licking, kissing, and nibbling my lips. She eventually sucks my tongue into her mouth and I just about blow my load.

When will I ever get my fill of this woman? It’s never enough. I’m never fully satisfied because I always want more. I know without a doubt that I’ll always feel that way.

She’s riding my hand as if we’re alone when we’re anything but. I whisper, “Do you want to be a good girl for me?”

She whimpers as she nods.

“I want you to scream my name when you come in front of all these people. Then we’re going to find somewhere for me to stick my dick in this tight pussy.

When you’re full of my come, I’m going to take you home and do it all over again.

” As I curl my fingers, I whisper, “Be a good girl and come for Daddy.”

Her grip on my hair and shirt tightens, and she lets out some sort of indiscernible loud noise before letting her head fall forward and sinking her teeth into my neck. Her pussy contracts around my fingers and coats them in her come while she shakes through her orgasm.

As the last of her tremors withers away, I pull my hand from her. She watches on with a slack jaw as I suck my fingers into my mouth. “Hmm. So fucking good, baby.”

Her mouth remains wide open, and she’s panting like she just ran a marathon. She releases her hold on my shirt and moves her hand down until it grips my cock before breathing, “Fuck me here. I don’t care. Just do it. I feel like I’ll die if I don’t get you inside me.”

As much as I want to put my stamp on this woman, to show everyone she’s mine, to mark her as mine, I can’t allow that to happen in front of all these people.

My mind is racing, trying to think of where this can happen. I’m not fucking her in a dirty bathroom, but I can’t wait as long as it will take to get to one of our houses.

Suddenly remembering they serve dinner earlier in the evenings on the roof, I pull her hand into the stairwell, but we don’t even make it to the steps.

As soon as the heavy metal stairwell door closes and the noises of the crowd are left behind, she lifts her skirt to her waist. “Right here. Fuck me.”

I pull my dick out in under two seconds, lift her legs, slide her panties to the side, and then slam her against the metal door before I thrust my dick inside her.

A few hours later, we’re lying in her bed enjoying our post-orgasmic bliss.

After the quick, hard fuck in the stairwell, I practically threw her over my shoulder and dragged her to my truck.

We went to her house because it was closer, and I was about to explode all over again because I can’t seem to ever get my fill of this woman.

I was able to worship every inch of her in her bed, cocooned in the delicious Sulley scent present on her pillows, blankets, and body. We lie in her now-tangled sheets, breathless and moist with perspiration. Our bodies are marked, our lips are swollen, and our souls are soothed .

The moments after we have sex have become my favorite time with her. The painful past is momentarily forgotten. We’re relaxed and sated. Naked and close. We talk and laugh. It’s intimate, and I crave it.

Her head is on my chest, and her fingers are lazily running through my chest hair. “Tell me something. Something you haven’t shared with anyone else.”