He looks at me a long time, then sighs.
It feels as if he’s pulling away, but I brush it off. He’s had a wild week, he’s probably exhausted.
“You’re going to love this place.” I punch the address into the GPS, and we start through the city.
Even though this house is only a few miles from the arena, it still takes us twenty minutes to get there. We punch the code in at the gate, then pull into the driveway and get out.
“This is it.”
The realtor sent me the temporary door passcode this afternoon, and I punch it into the keypad. Inside, I watch Clay for his reaction.
He surveys the walls, the floors, the decor, walking slowly through the main level.
“What do you think?” I ask, suddenly nervous. Maybe I got a weird read on his taste. I want him to love this.
“Tell me about it.”
I spring into action. “So, the kitchen…”
I talk him through the details as if I’m the realtor.
The vaulted living room. The original floors and arched windows.
His eyes warm more and more as we pass through each room.
We go to the second bedroom, where I say, “This could be a studio.”
“Keep talking.”
I show him the view from outside, the flower garden and daisies.
“We’re missing one room.” Clay’s voice is gruff, but there’s a softness under the edge.
“Are we?” I feign ignorance. But with a smile, I lead him to the final door. “This is the primary bedroom. There’s a huge ensuite. A king bed. Scratch that—a California king.”
“Seems pretty big.” He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me.
My head tilts as his lips skim down my neck. “It has to be. For sleeping, I mean. Professional athletes need lots of rest.”
He drags me closer, fitting his hard body against my back, my ass. My eyes drift shut as I feel him getting hard.
The realtor might’ve been a basketball fan, but this fantasy is my life.
“Thank you for the two first-class tickets,” I murmur, covering his hands with mine.
Sunlight streams in the window, surrounding us with bright light, and I want to stretch like a cat. Especially when his hands move over my body and slide up under my tank top.
“You’re welcome. Any hot strangers on the plane?”
He plays with my nipples, which harden despite the heat. His touch sends pleasure shimmering along my nerve endings.
“What would you say if I said yes?”
He pinches one of my breasts hard enough to make me gasp.
Clay spins me, lifting me. I wrap my arms greedily around his tattooed neck.
“I’d remind you that you’re mine.”
Normally, he’s more relaxed after practice, but today, he’s wound tight as he sets me on the windowsill. The yard behind me is lined with hedges, separating it from the street beyond.
He leans a hand on either side of me. In this position he’s still a foot taller. The swirls of black ink along his arms and neck twine together as he flexes.
“Nothing has to change here,” I murmur. “It can be exactly like it was in Denver.”
“It won’t be anything like Denver,” he replies. "The city. The team.”
I sigh. “Not even you and me?”
Clay rests his forehead against mine.
“Sure, there are no mountains or snow. But what if different is good?” I suggest, and his gaze narrows. “If LA is hotter than Denver, maybe LA Clay and Nova are too.”
His mouth twitches. “Hotter, huh?”
“Mhmm.” My gaze drags down to his gray sweatpants, the bulge that seems to swell with every second. I grasp on to the windowsill. “What’s the hottest thing I could do right now?”
Clay ghosts his lips over my ear, his voice borderline feral.
“Take me out,” he rumbles.
I’m breathless with anticipation as I reach for the waistband of his pants, feel the silken head of his huge cock.
I want him to like the house, but right now, I want him.
“Now what?” I ask, all innocence as I run my hands around the girth of him.
Clay’s breath is shallow. “Suck.”
He’s so wide, and while I’ve played with him lots, I’ve barely been able to get my lips around him, not to mention give him an actual blowjob.
He’s never seemed to care.
Now, more than anything, I want to make him feel good.
I bend forward, my tongue darting out to lick the underside.
His muscles tighten, and his low growl rumbles through me. “Fuck yes.”
The words spur me on. It’s a challenge, and I seem to like those lately. The muscles in my jaw ache as I work him in my mouth with both hands.
It’s awkward.
It’s also beyond sexy.
The pressure of him against my tongue has saliva coating his shaft. I start to move up and down, my fingers barely encircling him.
Clay strips off his shirt, never taking his gaze from me as he arches to press deeper. “Dammit, Nova. You look so beautiful sucking my cock.”
I squirm on the windowsill to get more comfortable, or as comfortable as I can, then go back to my work.
His other hand reaches for my hair, and he tightens his grip in the strands. The next second, he pushes me down farther on his cock. I gag, but it’s worth it for the way he spasms in my mouth.
He’s so gorgeous, his hard body covered in tattoos and flexing in the sunlight through the window.
I’m greedy for him.
This time, I take him farther, his cock bumping against my throat while I manage not to choke on him.
I figure out a rhythm, guided by his hands but not constrained by them. I speed up when I want, add a little flourish of my tongue around the head of his cock.
But when I take him deep again, he grunts and pulls me off.
“What’s wrong?” I gasp.
“As much as I want to, I’m not coming in your mouth, because I need to fuck you.” Clay slides a hand up my skirt and inside my panties. “You’ll be a good girl and come on my cock.”
With the next thrust, two of his fingers slip inside me.
Soon he’s pumping me, his thumb pressing on my clit.
“That’s not your cock,” I gasp helpfully.
“You can come on my fingers first,” he replies, every bit as helpfully.
I’m already tightening around him, ripples of ecstatic pleasure gripping me until I’m a mess of aftershocks.
He pulls his fingers from me, then strips off my tank top.
I take a second to admire his beautiful body, the hard lines of muscle and the tattoos that mark him everywhere. Clay lifts my hips and drags off my skirt and panties in one movement.
“Seems as if you’re getting used to this LA business,” I suggest, trying to ignore that I’m half naked in the window.
“It’s growing on me.”
This is probably not what the realtor had in mind when she said we could come back today.
“We’re supposed to be looking at the house,” I tease, twisting a piece of hair around my finger.
“Need to make sure it’s sturdy.” His gaze runs over me hungrily before coming back to my eyes. “Hold on.”
To what?
But I grip the sides of the window for balance as he lifts my knees until they’re pressed against my ribcage. He positions himself between my thighs, stroking my wet pussy with his cock.