Sloan (A Wesley Brothers Novel Book 2)

by Michelle Smith

  “Well then,” she says, a shimmer in her eyes and a blush on her cheeks when she looks back up at me and smiles, “looks like you and I are about to become great friends.”

  Chapter Six

  Elizabeth

  Bottom of the ninth, two outs, and the Thrillers are down by two. It’s been a tight game all night and our guys are on the verge of losing. But through the miracle of the baseball gods, they got a rally started here in the last inning. A pop fly and a strikeout, followed by back-to-back singles has runners on first and second, and Carson’s up to the plate. He’s had a kick ass game so far.

  I both love and hate moments like this. The edge of your seat excitement is almost too much to handle. One swing of the bat can end the game on either a high note or a low one. Carson adjusts his batting gloves and digs in at the plate, a ritual I’ve seen him do since he was a gap-toothed boy playing little league. The first pitch is high and tight, pushing him off the plate. But that second pitch? That second one is a meatball right down the center and Carson jumps all over it. The crowd—already standing on their feet to rally their boys—goes nuts at the first crack of the bat and I go crazy right along with the rest of the packed-out ballpark as the ball sails five rows deep into the outfield seats. A walk-off three-run homer and we win the game.

  I keep cheering as I watch my brother round the bases, the mob of players ready to pounce on him the minute his feet touch home plate. I’m so proud of him.

  Sloan is screaming and cheering as loudly as I am, and at one point he picks me up, hugging me tight to his body in celebration, igniting a whole new type of excitement in me. Geez, the man is gorgeous. When I opened my front door earlier and saw him in his cargo shorts, sneakers, and a Thrillers t-shirt, I had to check my chin and make sure no drool had escaped my mouth. If I thought this man was sexy in a suit, I was nowhere near prepared to see him casual. He looked good enough to lick, and even now I need to force myself not to do it. At least, not here in public. Later when we’re alone, he’s fair game.

  “That game was insane!” Sloan tells me and I couldn’t agree more. “I’d forgotten how exciting baseball can be. I need to make time to come to more games. What good is an executive suite if I never use it, right?”

  I look at him in confused disbelief. “Wait a minute. You have an executive suite here and you never use it?”

  He has the decency to look embarrassed. “It was one of the extra bonuses the team gave me when I became their full time legal counsel, but I’ve been too busy finishing my backlog of cases to make it out here. I haven’t even been to see the suite yet. Only my parents and my brothers have used it this season.”

  “Well, hell. You’ve been holding out on me. I guess there’s no time like the present, right?” I grab his hand and start walking up the steps to the top of the concourse. The throngs of people filing out at the same time make it a slow journey.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To check out the suite.”

  “Seriously, you want to go now?”

  “Sure, why not? If they’ll let us in we might as well look around.”

  It takes time to weave our way through the crowd, Sloan needing to show his team credentials more than once so we aren’t ushered out the gates with the other fans. We finally find the entrance for the suites and the guard doesn’t hesitate to let us up when Sloan shows him those same credentials. The elevator takes us up to luxury box level and it’s easy to spot where the suite is—it’s the first one off the elevator directly in front of us. He slips the key card in, the lock clicking open, and holds the door for me to walk through while he follows behind me.

  “Holy shit!” I exclaim as I walk into the air-conditioned room, walking around to take in the scenery. The room is bright, done in neutral tones with plenty of Thrillers accents scattered around, but the place isn’t overly extravagant like I might expect for a luxury box. There’s a long sofa stretched out along one wall to our left, and to the right of the room is a long serving bar where they serve food and drinks during the game. A flat screen television hangs on the wall behind the bar. A private bathroom sits off to the back, behind the sofa area. The whole front wall looking out onto the field is solid glass with a bar running along the panes, barstool seating up against it so someone might sit in the air conditioning and watch the action out on the field. A door to the right of the bar leads to the outside box, where it looks like there’s at least fifteen additional seats looking right out over home plate.

  “Wow! I can’t believe you haven’t been up here yet.” I come up beside him, and we stand at the glass door, looking out over the ballpark. The grounds crew is running around on the field down below, doing whatever it is they do to get the field back in working order for the night.

  “Me either. I’m going to change that soon, though. Hey, I can put your name on the approved list, that way you can use it if you want to. You’ll need to call the concierge number the day of the game and they can have the room stocked and ready for you when you’re here, and you’ll have to tell them how many people you’re expecting. They told me in the beginning it could be from one to twenty people. The only catch is you have to share it with whoever happens to be here that night.”

  I’m taken aback by his generosity. “You would do that for me? You don’t even know me.”

  He shrugs his shoulders like it’s no big deal to offer his luxury suite to a virtual stranger. “Why not? Somebody should get some use out of it. Besides, your brother is on the team. I think I can trust you not to cause any trouble.” His grin makes me smile.

  “Well, thank you. It’s a very generous offer. Carson usually tries to get me tickets up close but who knows, maybe one night we can come to another game together. Maybe spend it in the suite this time. The view is killer from up here.”

  “It sure is.” The rougher tone of his voice sends chills racing across my body and I venture a peek over to see his face. He’s looking right at me, his comment about the view obviously not having the same meaning as the way I meant it. His hand dips low on my hip, turning me until I’m facing him and his other hand reaches up to the brim of my cap. He tips it up and back, slipping it off my head and threading my ponytail out of the hole. The cap is suddenly gone, both hands now sliding up to grip the sides of my cheeks. The skin of his hands feels rough and masculine, despite the fact he works as an attorney. But I don’t have time to focus on his hands anymore as he lowers his face to mine, close enough that I can feel his breath flutter over my lips. But he doesn’t make contact. It’s torturous.

  “You have beautiful eyes.”

  “I could say the same about you.” My voice is breathy and low, and he quirks his lips up at the compliment. Finally—finally—he leans in and his lips touch mine. They’re firm yet soft; like they’ve been each time I’ve had the pleasure of kissing them. It starts off languid, slow, more explorative, but still full of passion and promise. It doesn’t stay that way for long before there’s a shift in intensity. We can’t get enough. Our tongues taste and caress each other, our breathing becomes labored. He nips and sucks my lip, kissing away the sting after. It’s a mix of sweet and ravenous, and I’m very disappointed when he pulls away from me. I’m horny and wet, and dammit I want his lips back, among various other parts of his anatomy.

  “We should get out of here. Head on over to my place, if you want.” It’s a statement more than a question, but to be honest, I’m fine where I am. I don’t think I could make it back to his place fast enough anyway.

  “Or,” I start, pulling his face back towards mine, “we could finish what we started. Right here. Right now.” My lips meet his again and instantly we’re back in the middle of that searing kiss, and so much more. He doesn’t hesitate. Before I can fully support myself on my wobbling legs, Sloan lifts me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he hoists me into the air. He walks us over to the suite door, breaking the kiss long enough to ensure that it’s locked and to turn off the lights.

  Smart
man.

  With the lights off, we won’t draw any attention in here. The stadium lights are still on, streaming in through the glass wall. They bathe us in plenty of light, more than enough to see the fire in Sloan’s eyes.

  Fuck, this man is intense.

  I lean back down and take his lips again as he walks us toward the sofa. It’s plush and soft when my back hits it, a stark contrast to the hard, muscular frame of the man now lying on top of me, kissing me senseless. His teeth nip at my bottom lip, and his kisses make their way across my jaw. Fresh stubble scratches against my cheek as his lips trail over to my ear, nipping at the sensitive lobe, but he doesn’t stop there. His lips trail lower and lower, down my neck to the sensitive groove where my neck meets my shoulder and holy fuck, his lips feel fantastic. So fantastic that my nipples tighten in immediate response and a moan escapes my lips before I can reign it in.

  “Mmmm, you like that spot, don’t you?” His voice is deep, gravelly even, as he dips his mouth back to the groove and kisses it again, eliciting another moan.

  “Yes,” I answer, barely a whisper as he continues to work his lips around that spot. His lips trail over to my throat and I feel his warm, wet tongue slide over the skin at the base and travel up, all the way to the underside of my jaw.

  He nips at my lips again. “Are you wet for me, Lizzy?” His fingers work the buttons of my jersey until he reaches the bottom, then unbuttons and unzips my shorts. “If I slip my hand in here,” he taps my pussy from the outside of my shorts causing me to flinch in anticipation, “will I find this pretty pussy wet for me?”

  Fucking hell, he’s a dirty talker. As if I needed any more reasons to let this guy into my pants.

  “Answer me Lizzy. Will I?” He flips the flaps of my shirt open, exposing the white lacey bra I’m wearing underneath it, the cold air hitting my heated skin and making my nipples strain even more. He runs his fingers in a path down my stomach until he reaches the top of my shorts but they don’t go any further. They stop altogether. He’s waiting for my answer.

  “Yes. Yes, I’m wet for you Sloan.” I can barely get the words out around my panting breath, but my admission is all he needs to start moving again.

  “Let’s see.” He whispers into my ear, and I feel his fingers pull the lace of my panties away from my skin and slide inside. They don’t venture far at first, gently stroking my skin, teasing me, and driving me crazy. But he doesn’t make me wait long before I feel his fingers slip lower, brushing across my clit a few times before plunging into me deep, stealing my breath.

  This man is going to kill me.

  Chapter Seven

  Sloan

  As soon as I plunge my fingers inside her, her back arches off the couch, the look on her face pure pleasure. Her eyes are closed now, her lips parted, her breath panting through the narrow space.

  “Oh yes, you most certainly are wet for me.” I whisper the words near her ear and she shudders as I start moving my fingers inside her. “You’re soaked baby.”

  She lets out a long, low moan as my fingers curl inside her, my thumb lazily stroking over her clit to keep her on edge. She’s tight—very tight—her walls clenching around my fingers with each thrust. “Your bra, front clasp or back?”

  She makes a sound that is a cross between a moan and a groan, an almost indiscernible noise, but then swallows hard and answers. “Front.”

  “Thank fuck.” Never taking my fingers out of her, I sit up and slide most of my lower body onto the floor so I’m kneeling next to her and leaning my upper body up over hers. Using my other hand, I reach across and unsnap the clasp, allowing her breasts to spill out of the white lace. They’re full and round, her nipples the same shade of pink as her bare lips. I bet her pussy is the same color too. I’ll have to see if I’m right, but not right now. Reaching down I grab the breast nearest to me, its heavy weight molding to my hands, and swipe my tongue across the nipple, sucking the hard peak into my mouth. I repeat the same with the other nipple, the mewls from Lizzy’s lips along with her heavy breathing the only sounds bouncing around the room. My fingers keep working, but my mouth is jealous. I’m dying to taste her.

  Scooting back on my knees, I trail kisses down her stomach as I go, until I’m at the perfect angle to get to her pussy with my mouth. I slide my fingers out from her warmth and rub her slick arousal over her clit. Hooking my hands into her shorts and panties, I slide them down her hips and legs when she lifts for me. I discard her clothing—along with her shoes when I get to her feet—and shove my fingers back inside her. I’m rewarded with a long moan of pleasure pouring from her lips. I finally get a good look at her pussy, and—like I knew it would be—it’s the perfect shade of pink I’d expected. I knew she was wet, but looking at her up close I realize how drenched she is. She’s almost dripping onto my fingers and fuck, I desperately need to taste her and I can’t wait any longer.

  But first, “Lizzy, open your eyes for me.” Her eyes, glassy with pleasure, open and it takes a second for her gaze to find mine in the dim light. “Watch me taste this pussy.”

  Her mouth pops open, her eyes going wide, watching as I pull my fingers almost completely out and slide my tongue up through the wetness, flicking her clit when I reach the top.

  “Fuuuuck.” She draws the word out, her head dropping back down on the sofa. I run my tongue up her center again, savoring her desire on my taste buds. She’s sweet and salty, and plain fucking delicious, and I lose myself in her flavor. Long, teasing strokes with the flat of my tongue mixed with quick, flicking strokes with only the tip, combined with my fingers still pumping in and out of her tight pussy, has her clenching around me in no time. Her muscles tighten, her body rigid as she fights to not let go. A quick suck of her clit into my mouth is all it takes to push her over the edge. She comes hard, a fresh rush of liquid heat coating my fingers and dripping down my hand as her pussy pulses around my fingers. Her hand darts up from her side, gripping my hair tightly as she tries to pull my mouth off her, but I won’t let her go. I’m nowhere near finished with her.

  I give her a few more licks for good measure, sliding my slick fingers out of her and watch her watching me as I slide them into my mouth, not wasting a drop. I stand up next to her, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it aside. Flicking the button on my shorts and pulling down my zipper, I slide them down to the floor, now standing in only my boxers briefs. The outline of my cock strains the material as my cock threatens to break through the cotton fabric. Her eyes drop from my mouth and I watch as they gaze lower over my chest, down past my abdominal muscles, to my cock pushing against the fabric. Her movement is subtle, but her eyes widen when she sees how big I am. She seductively licks her lips, and the sight of her tongue sweeping across her pink flesh makes my dick twitch, causing her eyes to flick back up to mine and a smile to grace her lips. She reaches her hand out, stroking across my rigid cock, forcing me to close my eyes and groan at her touch. I back away for a second, reaching for my wallet still lodged in my short’s pocket. Grabbing the condom, I keep there, I step back into her touch, where she hasn’t moved since I did. She scrambles to sit up on the edge of the couch, her face now about eye level with my massive erection. I hold the condom out near her face.

  “Open.” It’s a one-word command and she pulls her gaze away from my cock long enough to look up into my eyes. Her lips part and as I slip the edge of the condom wrapper into her mouth, she bites down on the corner, holding it between her teeth before I let it go. Her hands reach out, grazing my thighs as she pushes them upward, over my briefs and into my waistband. She slips her fingers underneath it on either side and slides the fabric over my body. She drags it down torturously slow, and the briefs drop lower and lower until my cock pops free of its confines.

  Fuck. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard.

  She leans in, pulling the condom from between her teeth and taking a quick swipe across the head of my dick with her tongue. There’s no way I’ll last if she puts her mouth on me. I gra
b a fist full of her ponytail and tilt her head back away from me, forcing her face upward to see mine.

  “You’ll suck my dick another time baby. Right now, I want you to put that condom on me so I can sink into your tight pussy. Got it?” She nods her head as much as my grip will allow and bites her lip in anticipation. “Fuck, I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me.”

  I release my grip on her hair and watch as she puts the corner of the condom wrapper back in her mouth and rips it open, pulling out the latex and gripping my cock with her other hand. She slides it over the tip, slowly rolling it over my cock as it flexes and twitches in her hands. When she’s got me fully sheathed, I lay down over her, pushing her back onto the sofa, spreading her legs wide and wedging myself between them. I take her lips in another passionate kiss, reaching my hand down between her legs where my cock rests up against her entrance. I’m a big guy and I need to make this as smooth as I can for her. Rubbing my fingers across her clit again, I’m amazed she’s still dripping. She’s so turned on right now.

  She moans against my mouth. “Sloan, please. I can’t wait any more.”

  I don’t hesitate, sliding all the way to the hilt, one long stroke until I bottom out inside her and my balls slap up against her body.

  Fuck she’s tight, tighter than I expected, and the instant grip of her pussy makes me still my body for a second until I’m sure I won’t come inside her before I’m ready to. When I finally move, I start out slow. The size of the sofa doesn’t give me much room to work with, so I slide one foot to the floor, using it to leverage my body as I rock into her. The angle is fucking perfect. Each forward thrust down and in strokes right across her clit and the moans filtering from her lips tell me I’m hitting the perfect spot deep inside her. I can’t keep the slow pace for too long though. The urge to fuck her—hard and fast—is too strong.