Game Saver - BJ Harvey Page 0,6
lining him up. Then, with our eyes locked together, he gives me that über-sexy smile of his that says he’s gonna get some before simultaneously slamming into me and crashing his lips down on mine.
Some people may frown on my behavior, but they’re not me. They’re not the ones who walk in my shoes and have to live with my choices.
Life is life, and sex is sex. Sometimes it leads somewhere—something that hasn’t happened for me yet—and sometimes it’s just two people having fun, sharing bodily fluids and hopefully orgasms before going their separate ways.
There’s nothing wrong with it, as long as you’re both on the same page.
Due to my two jobs and the times of day I work them, my social life—in particular my love/sex life—has expectedly suffered. I have friends, I have my parents and four—yes four—brothers who I’m all very close to, but thankfully, I’ve never been the type of woman who has to be with a man just for the sake of it.
I have needs, yes, but I also have the means to deal with them. I’m a modern woman who takes care of number one first and foremost—me.
But lying in bed with Doctor Hottie beside me—again—having been well and used and abused in the best possible way, I wonder if I’m missing out on something.
My body aches in a way you know when you’ve been fucked and fucked well. Actually, that doesn’t even cover it. I could go months without sex and still feel sated and satisfied with what Cade gave me last night. The man knows what he’s doing and proved yet again that he’s a high achiever in every way possible.
I roll onto my side, taking in a fucking gorgeous sleepy Cade, his eyes half-open and hazy, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Morning,” he says roughly.
“Hey. I thought for sure you’d sleep in.”
“Why sleep when there are much better things to do?” He moves his arm under the cover, gliding his hand up my thigh, over my hip and cupping my ass in his big hands.
I smile and copy his move, except I go in with gusto and go straight for his gloriously hard cock, wrapping my fingers around him and giving a squeeze. “Like this?” I ask as I slowly slide my hand up over the tip and back down.
He groans and moves quick-as-a-flash to hover over me, cupping my breast and bracing himself on the bed.
His gaze drops to where his thumb brushes over my hard nipple. A jolt of heat shoots straight down to the V zone. I arch my back, wanting more, my grip tightening as I continue torturing him.
Dipping his head, he captures my bottom lip in his teeth, nipping sharply before soothing the sting with a swipe of his tongue.
The last thing I remember before passing out from exhaustion after round three is just how much I enjoy Doctor Hottie’s bedside manner.
Flat on my back with Abi draped over my right side, an idea comes to me. If I had a date for the campaign launch, my mother would stop trying to set me up with one of her friends’ daughters. She’d stop being so hell-bent on marrying me off to a socialite Stepford-wife-in-training and—hopefully—finally let me live my own life. It would also give me the opportunity to get to know Abi outside of the bedroom.
I envy my brother. He got out early, escaping Mom’s expectations and attempts at finagling beneficial relationships for her children. Callie—three years older than us boys—has been through it all, including cotillion, etiquette classes, and debutante balls. It was one of the proudest moments of my life when she came home two years ago with her now husband Jonathan, a marine biologist who works at Shedd Aquarium. He had no family connections and was definitely not what my mother would consider an ‘ideal’ partner for a Carsen.
My sister didn’t give a fuck, and a year later—after a civil ceremony at City Hall—she held a small, intimate ceremony in my parents’ back garden to keep the peace. She’s now three months pregnant with their first child—and the first Carsen grandchild of this generation.
“Can I ask you something?” Abi’s fingers that were mindlessly playing with the sparse hair over my pecs pause minutely before resuming their surprisingly relaxing strokes.
“Does it involve round four? Because I might need a nap before we go again,” she replies, her lips curling up against my shoulder.
“I like your way of thinking, but this is more