Page 79 of Spin Control

I exhale Wes’s name. His mouth tips up into a soft smile before he slowly opens his eyes and all I see is gold. “Good morning, Jacobs.” His voice is rough in a way that makes me shiver. His smile grows and his eyes dance with the knowledge that he did that.

“Hi,” I whisper, feeling shy in the intimacy of this moment.

“You’re so soft,” he says, drawing circles on my back with his thumb.

“You’re so warm.” He husks out a laugh that makes goosebumps race across my skin.

“Do you need some of my warmth?” he asks, his tone teasing and playful. I blush and try to bury my head in Wes’s chest, but he shifts, thwarting my attempt. “There’s no need to hide. I like knowing I have this effect on you.”

“That’s the problem,” I mutter and he laughs, the sound full and sonorous now. He shifts back to where he was a moment ago, bringing all that body heat with him as he holds me tight. It’s absurd how good it feels—how good he feels.

“How’d you sleep?” he asks at the same time I arch my back a little, the motion bringing my hips forward and into contact with his undeniably hard length. I can’t stop my surprised gasp, and Wes groans. My hands have been tucked between our chests, and I trail one down his torso to the band of the boxers he slept in, then lower to cup him. He flexes his hips forward and into my hand, and I grasp him through the fabric.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, pushing his hips forward a couple more times, letting his length slide in my loose grip. “Fuck.”

“Yeah?” I ask, tightening my hand a little as I look at him, his eyes half-lidded and his lips parted.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice ragged. “But you don’t have—”

“Wes,” I say, interrupting him. “I woke up wetter than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

His eyes go wide and the hand that’s been on my back drifts down until it’s between my thighs. “Can I?” Wes asks and when I nod, he presses his entire palm against the completely drenched fabric before slipping two fingers underneath. I moan as he says, “Well, holy shit.” And then I’m the one flexing my hips against a firm touch.

“You want to ride my fingers, Jacobs?” he asks, and I nod, greedy. I rock my hips against his hand a few more times and then his middle finger is at my entrance. He uses gentle pressure as he slides it inside, drawing several wide circles before he adds his index finger. Though there’s more of a stretch now, I’m so turned on that it’s an easy fit.

“Is that good?” he asks, and I answer by squeezing my inner muscles around him. I flex my hips forward and back, and he moves with me, the two of us finding a slow, sultry rhythm that has me moaning with nearly every movement.

“Will you tell me what you need?” Wes says, his lips brushing against my forehead as he speaks. “I’ll give you anything.”

“Damn right, you will,” I say, and he laughs low. “This is so good, Wes.” I haven’t done this in a long time—and it’s never been like this. “You’re so good.” When he shifts his thumb to graze my clit, my hips buck hard and the needy little noise that comes out of me is like nothing I’ve ever made before. I’m momentarily horrified, but Wes says, “You’re so fucking sexy,” and there’s a bite in his tone that makes my blood thrum.

“I want you,” I say, pressing my palm against him.

“God, yes,” he says, curling his fingers for emphasis. “How do you want me?”

“Raw.”

Wes chokes. “Are you serious?”

I blink, realizing what I just said. It’s something I’ve never done before. I’ve never even wanted it before. But here I am, in bed with Wes Grant, just blurting it out without a second thought. I suppose that means it’s what I really want—so I nod. “But only if it’s okay with you.”

Wes disentangles himself, then grins rogueishly. He keeps his eyes on mine as he puts his index finger in his mouth and sucks. It is incredibly lewd and deeply erotic and one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Ambrosial,” he says very seriously, and a laugh bursts out of me. He smiles wide, then places his middle finger against my lips. “Taste.”

Though it’s hot, the part of me that craves control wants to fight against this command. He must see it in my eyes because his lips form a little ‘oh.’ “I’m sorry, I–”

And that’s all I need. I lean forward and take his finger in my mouth, circling my tongue around it before sucking. “Goddamn,” he whispers, looking at me as if I’m something from a dream. “How the hell am I this lucky?”

“Should I remind you that your teammate crashed into you yesterday?” I ask and his jaw drops. But then he shakes his head and laughs. “You know what? If he hadn’t, we likely wouldn’t be here, so fuck it. Maybe I’m grateful for the little asshole.”

“That’s very mature of you.”

“Nah,” he says, grinning. “I just really, really want to be inside you again.”

Right. That. The conversation we need to have.

“Are you on birth control?” he asks.