Page 8 of Penalty Shot

When I come down from the peak of bliss, Randall is there. Pressing light, gentle kisses where I’m sore and sated.

He smiles proudly, mouth and chin shimmering. Between my thighs is a fairytale prince with my arousal smeared all over his face.

The contradiction of his wholesome good looks and lewd acts is astounding. A few blond strands fall over his eyes. No grown man with that kind of mouth should be so damncute.

That’s probably the exact thought of the woman he had in hisbed last night, and the night before that.

The thought chokes me, so I dismiss it like the stupid sentiment it is. Nothing makes a person dumber than when they’re on a sex high.

Why should I care that Randall Haughland unleashes his skillful tongue and outrageous cuteness with other women?

He kisses up my body, giving my breasts attention before he leans on an elbow. His other hand cups my pussy. “Ready for more?”

“If by more you mean that cock leaving a dent on my hip, then yeah.”

When he stands, I whimper. He’s eyeing me intently while pulling something out of his wallet. The foil packet is quickly ripped and his thickness sheathed.

Above me again, Randall’s kiss is a welcome invasion. He called me sweet after tasting me, but it’s an insufficient word for the flavor we’re sharing between us. I taste the thick, primal essence of lust—musky and herbal and rich. I tastehim.

“Are you ready for me, Elise? I’m gonna die if I don’t get inside you, baby.”

“I do. Yes, I am. I mean…” What did he ask me? “Yes!” I exclaim since that should cover everything.

He bites my neck swiftly, a reprimand and a reward together. “Say it.”

“I mean yes, sir. I need your cock,sir,” I say, tongue in cheek. I feel his chuckle and can’t help my smile. This game we’re playing is sexy yet playful, exciting yet natural.

“Jesus, Elise, where the hell did you come from,” he mutters while nudging my legs open and cresting the head of his penis. “Second I saw you, I couldn’t turn away.”

“I’m just a girl, on a bed, needing to be fucked.”

He grins down at me. But when I grab his ass and lift my hips, urging him into my channel, his lips turn serious. Stern even.

Randall swirls as I accommodate his girth. He strokes my hair and kisses me while he pushes in. A guttural noise escapes his lips just as he pushes to the hilt. “Oh fuck, it’s too damn good.”

Our bodies find a perfect rhythm. His plunges deepen. One hand hikes my thigh at an angle that feels so intense, I might start sobbing.

“Tried to hide your body under those clothes, Elise?” he says, pounding into me. “But you’re too beautiful to hide.”

His words are another set of hands to urge me on and on, making me feel desired. Like I’m the only woman he’d ever want, even if that can’t possibly be true. An actor would get an Oscar for this level of convincingness. Or a nomination, at the very least.

“Baby, you take me so fucking good.” It’s intoxicating to have all that attention while his cock thrusts ferociously now.

“God, right there. Oh, Randall,” I moan because I’m so close to another orgasm. He slows down instead, churning languidly and giving my clit just enough attention to keep me on the edge but withholding release.

“Ride me. On top.” Is there anything sexier than a man who knows what I need before I do? He flips me over without losing our connection. Straddling his hips, I move tentatively at first because he’s stretching me impossibly. The pleasure is acute. Nearly too much.

He reaches up to massage my breasts, pinching my nipples. “No holding back. Ride me. Say ‘yes, sir.’” Randall juts his hips repeatedly, urging me open, plundering up steadily.

“Ye-yes, sir,” I mumble past the heat and bliss coursing between us. I begin riding him roughly, my breasts bouncing and thighs strained. But it feels too good to stop. I’m almost there. Throwing my head back and making animal sounds, I’m so close.

“Look at me.” His blue eyes are nearly black, his face ferocious with pleasure and need. When Randall rubs my clit, I’m slayed. My center squeezes his erection and every clenched muscle in my core begins to pulse.

“You’re too good, baby. You’re making me…” A manly groan leaves his body, and his hands dig into my hips. He continues to pound up through his own climax.

We watch each other fall apart. Everything about him tightens: the brawny shoulders, the carved biceps, the cords on his neck. Sinews like steel cables and tendons as taut as bowstrings seem at the brink of snapping. He growls as the last of his powerful surges detonate another explosion inside me.

I collapse over him like a rag doll.