Real 3 Remy

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beneath me. I try to ignore all the green lights, the delicious press of her tits against me, and instead I
focus on her mouth. I slide my hand up her throat and stroke my thumb along her jaw. She breathes as
fast as me. She moans. She responds to me so hard, I have to stop and take cold showers when I m a
second away from exploding on her.
She waits for me in bed, her eyes on the door.
The instant I m back she s spreading out her arms and opening her mouth to me. The scent of her
arousal hits me as I tell her she s so fucking pretty and smells so good. She moans softly and tells me
my name, in both ways. Remington . . . Remy . . .
She jacks me up and I taste her throat, her collarbone, keeping my hands where my mouth is if I
touch her breasts, I m going to lose it. Even the feel of her legs parted under me and the way she shifts
to nestle my erection drives me crazy.
I taste her ear. I fuck it. I pretend every part of her body can feel my tongue. She shivers and the
sounds drive me crazy as an animal. She lets me work her up so much her teeth chatter until I cover
our bodies with the sheet and use my body heat to heat her up.
When her breaths are jerking out of her and she sounds too worked up, I ease back and play her
some music. She likes it when I play her songs. And when I turn on the TV to help cool myself down,
she leans her head against my shoulder and watches it, the gesture making me tip her head up to me
and take her mouth once more until we can t stand it.
My cock is in constant strain. The instant she looks at me, I m hard. She looks at my mouth, smiles
at me . . . everything she does runs straight to my dick.
She turns to me now, and I smile at her as she comes straight back to sit at my side, her legs and ass
in those tight, pink jeans that beg to be peeled off her. I pull off my headphones and lean over to place
my ear in her mouth, so she tells me what all the fuss is about with the team.
They re worried about you.
Me or my money? I quietly ask. Another day I might not ask this. But I know they re worried
about my stupid bet. One black fucking night, I bet all my cash and savings on my win this year. Pete
and Riley are worrying about it, especially Pete, who s in charge of the finances.
You. And your money.
I smile at her. I m going to win. I always do.
Her lips form a small smile too, and my mouth is drawn to that mouth of hers that tastes like
peaches dipped in sugar. My blood heats when I notice how swollen and red her lips are from all our
kissing, and the need to take that mouth in mine runs through me when she shudders.
So, she knows what I m thinking about?
I swear I don t even want to be here today. Only because of her did I manage to get out of my suite
today and into this plane. But I don t feel like doing anything except her.
Do you want to run today? To get ready for tomorrow? she asks.
I shake my head no.
You re tired? she prods.
Nodding, I whisper, So fucking tired I could barely pull myself out of bed.
When she nods that dark, little head of hers in understanding, all the heaviness in my chest lifts for
a moment, and she s like a little sun in all my gray.
She leans back on the seat, her shoulder up against mine, and she looks so badly slept because of
me, I slide myself lower on the seat so my shoulder is close to where her head is. And she can rest it
on me.
She does.
Quietly, I pass her my iPod so she can hear Norah Jones s Come Away with Me.
She listens while lazily leaning her head on me, and I duck my head to try to listen with her.
Jerking as if she s just thought of something, she grabs her iPod, finds a song, and passes it to me.
Then the Gym Class Heroes song The Fighter begins.
Her eyes are glued to my profile as I listen, and if I ve kissed her for four fucking days straight and
she s playing me a song about fighting, I m fucking not doing something right. You play me a song
about a fighter? I ask her in disbelief and annoyance at myself.
She nods. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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