He sniggers, “Spend my days with snot-nosed brats that think they know better? No, thank you.”
“Why not? It’s clear you love the game, and if you were as good as you want me to believe you were—”
“I wasn’t good, I was great.”
“Then you have a lot to teach them.”
“If I were to consider coaching, it would be for guys who want to learn and get better. Guys whowant to master their craft. Now stop talking.” He opens my legs and nips on my inner thigh.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice sounding as erratic as my heartbeat.
Looking up at me with mischief shining in his dark brown eyes, Tate slides his hands under the hem of my shorts and inches them up my legs. The rough feel his hands create lights me on fire.
“Getting ready for you to see fireworks.” Holding my legs just above my knees, he yanks me to the edge of the bed and, without warning, spreads my legs wide, causing me to gasp as he gives me a manspread.
Before I catch my breath and protest, his arms hook under my thighs and wrap around my ass. His head dips between my thighs, and his mouth kisses from one inner thigh across to the other, causing me to squirm uncomfortably in his arms.
“Shh.” He coos, reaching up to unbutton my shorts and sending me into a full-blown panic. “Relax while I take care of you.”
“Tate,” My fingers thread through his hair, nudging his head away. “Please don’t,” I plead.
He takes a breath, releases me, and leans back on his heels. His rough, calloused hands continue to rub my thighs, his thumbs trailing along the innermost part of my leg.
“If you really want me to stop, I will.” For a heartbeat, I breathe easier. “But don’t you want to know what it feels like when I take my time to make you cum? Or would you rather me watch you give yourself an orgasm?”
“Neither.” I can barely articulate, nervous this will turn him off altogether.
His eyes darken and smolder. The cocky smirk on his face terrifies me in the best of ways. “C’mon, Eve. I’m sure you prefer one to the other.” His pointer finger crawls up to the very top of the inside of my shorts and right to the elastic of my panties. I simultaneously worry and wish he’ll work his way past my undergarment and inside me. “Either I defile your pussy with my mouth,” his tongue slides over his bottom lip, “or I watch you fuck yourself with your fingers. Your choice.”
His filthy mouth has my internal temperature rising so high, I’m afraid my blood will boil. No one ever spoke to me so crass, and while embarrassed, I’m melting with desire. I choose his mouth. Of course I do, but I’ve been denied for so long, I’m not sure I can handle it.
“It’s been years since... and then I never actually...” I admit, my voice trembling as much as my body.
Looking surprised by my admission, Tate stares at me, blinking a few times before speaking again. “Let’s start with something easy.”
Tate climbs up and sits on the bed next to me. His fingertips ghost up the side of my neck as his mouth moves down slowly, kissing me. Licking me, flooding me with warm, seductive sensations.
“This is all I want to do to your pussy. I just want to kiss it.”
Overwhelmed, my head falls back as I give in and relinquish control. Tate gives me a few breaths to recover before grasping my chin between his thumb and forefinger and turning my head to face him. Hekisses me on the mouth. Soft, sweet kisses until they transform into deep, sloppy, breathtaking kisses.
Tate wraps his arm around my back and lies down on the bed. His hand moves up and down my flank until he stops, braces my back, and rolls me on top of him. His hands slip into my back pockets. Squeezing my ass, he presses my lower half against his engorged cock.
“See, this isn’t so bad, is it?” He whispers in my ear before kissing me behind it.
“No,” I answer, breathless.
“Good,” he smiles. “Easy peasy.”
I feel like a teenager having sex for the first time rather than a formerly married woman with a child. I’d like to think it’s the Tate effect; he’s so confident, and he comes to the table with a plan. I’m pretty sure if there was a table in here, the plan would be to have sex on it.
As skilled and adept as he is in the bedroom, I’ve earned a failing grade. Sex was the first thing to go in my marriage. I hate that I feel so inexperienced.
“Can you sit up?” He whispers.
I move to roll off him, but Tate stops me. “Sit up on my lap. Straddle me.”
I don’t want to admit it, but I like the fact that he’s in charge, telling me what to do. I’m out of my league and feel like peanut butter without its bread and jelly. Tate helps adjust me so that I’m upright, straddling his lap.
