Knowing how Teagan is, if she says she'll be over at 8:00, she'll be outside my door at 7:58. The idea of being with her doesn't usually get me going, but something about this arrangement of ours has had my little man rubbing against my zipper all night.

I reach down and give it a little squeeze and find I'm harder than I thought. I'm not sure I'll make it to 7:58.

The quiet tapping on my door catches my attention. I glance at the clock in the kitchen and smirk when I see it's 7:56. "You're early," I say when I open the door.

"I'm always early." She walks past me to let herself in. Immediately, she drops her things on the island countertop like she lives here.

Her outfit is different from before. The t-shirt dress doesn't look like much, but probably costs a grand. The thin material looks slouchy while still tracing every curve of her waist, hips, and ass. Beneath it, I can see the line of her thong, and the criss-crossing front of her black bra. We both know she doesn't roll out of bed like that. She wants this as bad as I do.

"I don't want to rush you, but could we make this kind of quick?" she asks, turning around to lean back against the island. "I forgot I have a thing tonight."

Quick? I get to get in her sooner than I thought? My pants suddenly feel much tighter. "Yeah, sure. No problem."

When I step closer, her eyes flit around the room, avoiding mine. Her long lashes flutter when she looks down as I lean my hands onto the counter behind her, caging her between my arms like my prey. She brushes her straightened hair over her shoulder and looks at me as if she's unfazed.

"You're nervous," I tease her.

Her eyes narrow. "I'm not nervous," she hisses. Her snippy demeanor makes her so edible. "I agreed to do this thing because you said you could give me an orgasm in five minutes. If you're going to be all talk, we can call this shit off and—"

She stops short when I reach up her dress and slide her panties down her thighs. Her mouth closes when I move my hands back up to grab two overflowing handfuls of her perfect ass. I watch her bottom lip catch between her teeth when I pull her body against mine. "Do you want to keep bitching at me or do you want me to make you come?"

Her glare remains, but her mouth stays shut.

My cock is rock hard as I smirk. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

I kneel down and rip her panties down the rest of the way, holding them while she clumsily steps out, the little piece of lace tries to catch on the buckle of her shoes. As I stand, I swing her leg onto my shoulder. She murmurs something about me not needing to, but I'm not doing this for her. I'm hungry. 

She smells fresh and clean, her warm honey scent hidden underneath. I slide the tip of my tongue up the full length of her seam, feeling the delicate petals against my tongue, tasting the sweetness waiting for me deeper inside. Mmm . . . I pull her other leg onto my shoulder and lift her up to sit on the counter, spreading her wide for me while I continue to taste her.

Taking my time, I appreciate the way her body can't hide her arousal from me. She feels warmer, tastes sweeter, smells better. She's melting for me. I press my tongue inside and back out to circle her sweet, little bud before gently sucking it between my lips. Her fingers comb into my hair, pulling as she moans, her thighs quivering in my hands while her hips swirl against my tongue. How did I get this lucky?

I pull her from the countertop to stand, then turn her around. She looks back at me over her shoulder but doesn't protest. Both of us know she likes it better from behind.

Not wasting any time, I push my pants to my hips and tear my shirt off over my head. She leans down, giving me a better look. The low light glistens against her pussy as it awaits my company. She pulls her dress up higher and wiggles that tight ass, teasing me while I roll the condom on. Can't leave her waiting, can we?

I grip her hip and push my way in, my mouth dropping open when I feel her stretch over my head. She's as tight as I remember, wet and hot in a way that makes my mind quiet and my senses heighten. Spreading her wider, I slide myself deeper. She whimpers when I press against her, a small sound halfway between pleasure and pain that pulls in my stomach.

The moment I start to move, it's already over for me. I'm lost in the tight friction when I pull myself from her and the small fight it takes to make my way back in. I pull back and thrust hard against her, my hips crashing against her ass. The way she squeezes around me when I'm deep drives me crazy. When I'm inside her, watching her ass shake with each of my thrusts, hearing her little moans while I'm stroking it . . . nothing compares.

"Oh my god," her words come out as a moan. She reaches back and grips my wrist. Keep going. Got it. I lose myself for a few moments in the sensation of fucking her hard, but I know I have a job to do.

I slow my roll, running my hands up her sides, trailing them back down her spine and over the dimples on the small of her back. The feel of her soft skin against my palms, the taste of her still on my tongue—nothing else matters but this moment and the pleasure I'm about to give her. 

Before I get carried away, I exhale through my lips and remind myself I have a point to prove. Teagan thinks I'm beneath her, that she's doing me a favor by letting me have this. But, she forgets I'm an athlete through and through. 

Sex is a game. One I play very well.

A good stroke game is nothing on its own. It's the offense. Some men think you can win with just that, but it's just an unpredictable shootout without defense. Steady, angled, even, and when she's getting close, don't fucking stop. I know I'm stroking it right, but she won't get there with just that.

I press a hand against her lower back, pushing her back down against the countertop as I keep pumping away. That's my defense—the shit that keeps things in line. A firm grip, a tug of the hair, a little choking to let her know that I'm here, I'm in charge, and I can keep it that way as long as she wants it.

A rush floods through me, making me groan when it catches me off-guard. But I'm not alone. The way she moans is like music to my ears, the wet sounds coming from her core are her orchestra. Every movement I make, she coos with delight. She arches up with a loud moan and looks back at me with surprise, her brow stitched, those plump lips parted. It's the song telling me it's time for the real star of the show.

While the team has its fun, he focuses on the main objective: the win. There's only one surefire way to get her there.

I slide my hand between her thighs, finding the slick bundle of nerves. She bucks beneath my hand.

"Ah! Just like that." Her grip tightens on my wrist, her pussy the same around my dick. "Don't stop. Oh fuck, don't stop!" she yells my favorite phrase. I rub my fingers faster, keep my rhythm, training my focus on her skin under my grasp. I'm hot, hard as hell, my muscles wound tight. I'm barely hanging on when her legs start to shake and her head lifts up with a cry. There it is.

I feel her slick grip tighten around me. Her body dances, her ass jumping as her pussy teases up and down my dick. I let myself go.

Pinning her down on the counter, slamming my hips hard against her ass over and over and over, I take what I want. The pressure builds with every thrust, every whimper and moan I make her cry. I lose myself in the control, the pleasure, the power—until it slips from my grasp in the most satisfying way possible.

"Oh, fuck." My balls feel like they're bursting when I start cumming into the condom. Moans fall from my lips while the core of my being empties from me in rush after glorious rush.

As I enjoy the last few strokes, I feel high. All of my stress and worry drain from me, leaving a blissful blank slate behind.

When I'm finally empty, I breathe out a sigh of relief. I slip from her warm embrace and let myself drift.

She turns and leans back against the counter with a pleased grin on her lips. Her legs wobble when she pulls her panties back up her thighs. Like I said, sex is a game. Everyone can learn how to play, but few play as well as I do.

The clock on my oven reads 8:04. "A little over five minutes, but I think I proved my point."

As annoyed as she wants to seem, Teagan is too happy to give me shit. "Yeah, I guess you did."

I smile at my triumph.

While straightening her dress, she avoids looking at me, then grabs her bag and keys from the counter. "See you Wednesday?" 

"Yeah," I agree while trying to catch my breath. "Your place, right?"

"Yeah." She walks to the door, still failing to hide the drunken haze of happiness. A glow, really. One I gave her. "Try to be on time, okay?"

She lets herself out and leaves me alone in my kitchen with a used condom and the smell of sex on my fingers. I breathe in her scent one more time and feel the smile pull at my cheeks.

For the life of me, I can't figure out why the hell I didn't do this sooner.

My buzzes on the countertop. I toss the condom in the trash and pick it up. The text from my dad makes my stomach turn.

Oh, yeah. That's why.

_____

Heath is a special bean, and for what it's worth, I have fun writing him. I can't wait to share more of him with you.

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