Page 83 of Stroked Long
Lowering her to the bed, I make quick work of my jeans, kicking them off in a frenzy, and tear the bedding off the bed, exposing Ruby in all her glory. She doesn’t break away from me, her kisses don’t stop, but her legs fall open. From a quick rub of my body against hers, I can already feel how wet she is.
“Fuck, Ruby. You’re already wet.”
“Because of you,” she whispers, trailing kisses along my jaw.
“I’m going to have to be quick.”
“Then get going, Bodi, unless you want me to get myself off.” Who knew this quirky, adorable woman could be so demanding, so sassy in bed?
Growling into the curve of her neck, I say, “No fucking way.”
Everything about this woman turns me on, from her touch, to her endless questions, to her unbelievable body. I want nothing but to stay in bed with her all day.
What a fucking crazy thought. From the moment I first met her, she scared me with her touching, her incessant need to pry into my life, but now it’s different. I thrive on her text messages, on her sweet smiles, on the way her eyes light up when I’m with her,andwhen I enter her.
Like right now.
In her sleepy haze, I enter her, her eyes widening from my girth, from the tight fit we make, and just when I think she’s going to pass out from holding her breath, she sighs into the bed and entwines her body with mine.
Her pussy is incredible. It sheathes me with such force I never want to leave. The friction we create is consuming. The build-up between us, the throbbing darting up and down my spine, the squeeze of her thighs around my waist, her relentless tongue . . . fuck, it takes me right over the edge.
“How close?” I grunt out, not sure how much more I can hold back.
She doesn’t answer.Not with words anyway.Her head flies back, exposing her breasts. The sight is my undoing. I come. I come fucking hard. Her cries of ecstasy float in my head as I pump feverishly into her, letting go completely.
As I slow my hips down, I kiss her neck and whisper, “It’s never been this good, Rubes. It’s never been this addicting.”
“Morning sex?” she asks, still in a haze, now more from lust rather than sleep.
“No,” I answer honestly. “Sex. It’s different with you.”
Her lazy smile stretches across her face as she sits up, her upper torso completely naked. I love how comfortable she is with me. She cups my face with both hands and gently kisses me on the lips. No tongue, nothing too demanding, just a sweet, adoring kiss.
Pressing her forehead against mine, she says, “Get out of here, you’re going to be late.”
She’s right about that. Disengaging myself, I quickly make use of my jeans and grab my cell phone from her nightstand. Shit, I’m ten minutes behind already. Traffic lights better be on my side.
“I’m sorry I have to bolt.”
“No worries, Bodi.” She winks and pulls the covers over her body only to flop on the bed and curl up.
Shit. I want to stay. Here. With Ruby. In bed. I’ve never felt like this before. I have commitments. I need to get to training. That’s what I do. Not spooning with extremely beautiful, just-fucked-by-me women.
I don’t have that privilege.For the first time in all my years of swimming, I wish I wasn’t a swimmer. I hear my subconscious taunting me for thinking those words, with murmurs ofgiving pride to my family that they deserve, but I’m on a post-sex high.
Sprinting to my truck, I start the engine, thoughts and images of Ruby floating through my mind as I make my way through Los Angeles to the club where my coach is waiting for me.
Shit, Ruby. She needs to be safe. I call her quickly, hoping my neurosis won’t freak her out. When I get her voicemail, I cringe. “Ruby, please go and make sure the door is locked. Please.” I pretty much break every speed limit, perform a couple of California “stops,” and park like a maniac, not even caring that I’m taking up two spaces. I haven't done anything in my normal routine this morning, but strangely I don't feel too off-balance. Thankful for being obsessively organized, I drink down an energy drink with some raw nuts, easy fuel when on the run.
I sprint to the locker room and throw on my bathing suit from yesterday. Yes, I feel fucking nasty and my body itches from the thought of not being clean, but I don’t have a choice.Have I ever gone this long without a shower before?As I jog to the pool deck, I check the clock.
Shit.
I’m five minutes late.
Sitting on the bleachers, clipboard in hand, whistle around his neck, and a stopwatch posed in front of him is Coach, and fuck, he doesn’t look happy.
“Bodi, how nice of you to show.”
