One-Timer (Carolina Comets)

I shouldn’t be waiting up for Lowell for several reasons.

1. I don’t know what time he’ll be getting back to North Carolina.
2. I have no idea if he’s coming over here because it’s not something we’ve discussed.
3. We’re not together.
4. I’m getting too attached and I know I am.

Despite knowing all of this, I’m waiting up anyway.

I miss him. I miss hanging out with him and laughing with him. I miss scrolling through baby websites with him, getting ourselves all worked up over what’s to come. I just miss…him.

Something changed between us that night at his house. Not just physically, but emotionally too. It was the first time I really got to see how invested in this he truly is. You can say you’re going to do something all you want, but actions speak louder than words, and Lowell’s action of building our baby a room definitely spoke volumes.

A knock sounds at my door, and I jump off the couch before I can think too much about why I’m so excited by the idea of seeing Lowell, then swing the door open.

A lot of the guys tend to change out of their suits when they’re on the plane back home, but Lowell didn’t tonight. He’s wearing a perfectly tailored dark gray suit that makes his green eyes look even more captivating and a smirk that says he’s come over for a reason.

He rakes his eyes down my body, and I swear I can feel his stare penetrating me between my legs just like his tongue did a few weeks back. We haven’t had a repeat of that night, but I want one—badly. Especially after the many make-out sessions we’ve had since then. He always seems to pull back at the last minute when it’s starting to get good, but tonight, I want more.

Tonight, I want him.

“Hi,” I whisper.

“Hey,” he says, that grin of his growing.

I have no idea how long we stand there staring at one another, just like I have no idea who it is that makes the first move. All I know is one second Lowell is standing outside my door grinning at me, and the next he has me pressed against the wall with his mouth fused to mine.

“God, I missed your mouth,” he says against me.

I missed you.

But I don’t say that.

Instead, I say, “I missed yours more.”

Then he kisses me on said lips. He kisses me until I’m almost positive they’ll be bruised tomorrow. Until I’m literally writhing against him, needing relief. Until I am so fucking turned on I’m going to explode if something else doesn’t happen soon.

“Lowell…”

He chuckles darkly, like he knows what he’s been doing to me all along. He goes to pull away, pumping the brakes like he has been doing, and I can’t this time.

I need a release.

I clutch the lapels on his suit, not letting him run, and look straight into his deep green eyes, loving the way they darken as he begins to understand what I’m silently asking for.

Begging for.

He gulps once. Twice.

“Are you sure?” he asks quietly.

He’s not asking me if I’m sure I want to have sex. We both know the answer to that. He’s asking if I’m sure I understand what we’re about to do really means.

Sex.

Just sex.

I know that, and he knows that too. He can’t offer more, and I’m not even sure if I’m ready for more.

But this right now? This I am definitely ready for.

Just sex.

I want just sex.

“Yes.”

His eyes flicker with just that simple word, then he’s ravaging my mouth again.

We kiss for what feels like hours before he wrenches his mouth from mine, down my chin, and over my throat. He kisses me there, nipping and sucking, leaving behind spots that will surely be visible tomorrow, but right now I don’t care. Not when his hand is sliding along my side, his fingers brushing the waistband of my shorts but never slipping beneath the tiny bit of fabric. Over and over, torturing me slowly. Deliciously.

I love and hate it, and I want more yet I want him to stop.

When he finally dips his fingers into my shorts, I sigh with the relief of what’s to come.

Lowell slowly moves his fingers lower and lower until just the pad of his finger brushes over my clit. I hiss at the contact, and he laughs again like an asshole, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

He doesn’t move his hand for a long time. He just holds the pad of his finger there, alternating between kissing paths up my neck and sucking on my lips.

Then finally—fucking finally—he dips a single finger into me, and my knees nearly buckle.

“Fuck, you’re wet.”

“Because you’re torturing me!”

He chuckles again. “You like it.”

“I do,” I pant, bearing down on his finger that’s gliding in and out of me, loving the way his palm is brushing against my clit. “So much. But you know what else I’d like?”

“Hmm?”

“To be fucked.”

He pauses for only a moment, then says, “I think I can manage that.”

I cry out when he withdraws his finger from me, and then yet again when he lifts the glistening digit to his mouth and licks it.

“Shit,” he groans. “I almost forgot how good you taste.”

“You…like doing that?”

“Like it? Are you kidding me?” He laughs mockingly, one side of his lips turning up in a smirk. “I’d spend an entire twenty-four hours with my face buried in your pussy if I could.”

I tremble at the thought, loving the idea of it, especially given the last time he was between my legs, I thought I was going to stop breathing at one point.

He doesn’t miss the shiver.

“Is that what you want?” He cups me through my shorts. “For me to eat your pretty pussy?”

“Y-Yes. No. Yes.”

He laughs. “Well, which one is it, darlin’?”

“What I mean is yes, but not now. Right now, I want…” I gasp as his thumb presses into me through my shorts, circling my clit with a force that’s just delightful enough. “I want…”

“To be fucked, was it?”

I gulp, nodding.

He steps away—like completely away.

I reach for him, but he shakes his head just once. He kicks his shoes off, then, slowly, he shoves his suit jacket off his shoulders and tosses it aside. His hands drop to his belt, and I practically salivate watching him unhook it. He doesn’t take his pants off though. He doesn’t pull his cock out, and somehow, it’s hotter than if he were actually naked.

His deft fingers make quick work of undoing the buttons on his dress shirt. He strips that off and throws it somewhere too.

He’s gorgeous. There’s no other word to describe it.

He reaches out, one finger under my chin, and tips it up.

“Don’t move,” he instructs, and I nod.

Then he’s gone. Across-the-room gone.

He sits on the couch, spreading his legs wide, and just watches me. His eyes rake up and down my body, then he does it all over again. Just. Watching.

It’s unnerving and exhilarating all at once. I’ve never been touched like this before, and he’s not even physically touching me. He’s just looking, and somehow, it’s so much more.

“Strip.” His voice is low and commanding, and it makes me eager to follow his directions.

I grab the hem of the thin t-shirt I have on and slowly tug it over my head. I’m not wearing a bra, and it feels so strange standing before Lowell with just a pair of shorts on.

When I don’t make a move to push them off, he lifts a brow, waiting.

I want to make him wait.

I want to make him squirm and yearn for me like I am for him. So I take my messy hair and wrap it into a ponytail, loving the way the strands brush lightly across my shoulder blades. Loving the way his eyes track every single movement. Loving the way the humor dances in his eyes when he realizes what I’m doing.

Finally, when I’m good and ready, I drag the shorts down my legs, stepping out of them and tossing them to the side.

His eyes widen, then darken, and he inhales a sharp breath at the sight of me. He slides his pants down his legs, his cock finally springing free, and oh god is it as beautiful as I remember.

He strokes it once, twice, reaching down to cup his balls and pull on them. My nipples pebble to stiff peaks just watching him, and I bet if I were to slip my hand between my legs right now, I’d be drenched.

Only then do I realize I never had any power in this moment at all. It was all him.

It was always him.

“Come.”

Slowly, I saunter across the room, enjoying watching him play with himself.

I stop at his knees. “Now what?”

“Now, you use me.”

Use me.

He said that before, and just like then, it does something to me. I know it’s him relinquishing control because he wants me to feel comfortable. I love that he’s putting my comfort first. I think it’s hotter than anything else that’s happened tonight.

He reaches a single finger out, sliding it through my pussy for a moment, only to bring it back to his mouth for a taste.

I lied. That’s the hottest thing he’s done tonight, and it has me falling into his lap—literally. I straddle him, twining my arms around his neck and rubbing myself against him. He looks down, watching where we’re connected.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re perfect.”

“I haven’t even done anything yet.”

His hands find my ass, kneading my cheeks.

“And if you don’t soon, I may revoke the whole being a gentleman thing I’m doing.”

I roll my bottom lip between my teeth. “I’m sorry, Lowell, am I teasing you too much?”

I rub against him again.

“Is this taking things too slow for you?”

Another rub.

“Is this—”

I don’t finish the sentence.

I don’t finish the sentence because suddenly I’m lifted and Lowell’s cock is pushing into me.

We both let out a low groan as he slides in, inch by delicious inch.

I’ve missed this. It’s the first thing that runs through my mind, which is ridiculous because I’ve only had this one other time.

I lean forward, resting my forehead against his, trying to get used to his size again.

“You feel…” He gulps. “Fuck.”

“Good fuck?”

“Great fuck.”

He crashes his mouth to mine, kissing me slowly as he lets me take the lead, allowing me to slowly work myself on him. He doesn’t rush me; he lets me have complete control.

My orgasm is building higher and higher and it’s within reach, I just need…

“Lowell…”

His fingers that have been playing lightly in the ends of my ponytail are the only indication of what’s to come. Suddenly, he wraps my hair around his fist and yanks my head back just hard enough for it to cause a bite of pain, but not enough for it to be malicious.

I cry out as his other hand comes up to rest at the base of my throat, where he applies just the tiniest hint of pressure as he fucks up into me. Over and over again. Faster. Harder. So damn needy I think I may actually fall apart.

And then I do.

My orgasm hits me out of nowhere, a blinding white light behind my eyes and a tingle from head to toe. There was no warning. No usual crescendo. It just shattered the earth around me with no preamble.

My pussy clenches around Lowell’s cock and he’s riding the same wave I am just moments later, spilling himself inside of me. Almost instantly I collapse onto him, and he catches me with ease, like he knew it would happen all along. He wraps his arms around me as I rest my head on his shoulder, trying to catch my breath.

I have no idea how long we sit like that—Lowell holding me and drawing small circles on my back, me resting against him.

But however long it is, I know it’s not enough.

Which isn’t a good thing because this has to be enough.

With as much energy as I can muster, I push away, finally looking at the man who just made my world implode. His curious green eyes are watching me, searching to make sure I’m okay with what just happened.

I’m okay with it.

I am more than okay with it. Too okay with it.

“Well, the good news is, I definitely didn’t get you pregnant this time.”

A laugh bursts out of me because it’s what I didn’t know I needed right now.

But Lowell knew.

Lowell always knows.

And that’s what scares me the most.