hand was moving up and down. Too damn late. There’d be no stopping now. “Take me in your mouth.” He heard Millie moan. He was so distracted he almost missed the buzzing hum. “Do I hear a vibrator?”

“Mm-hmm.” Millie’s confirmation was more a purr than a proper response. “My favorite one.”

“Jesus.” He groaned and covered his eyes with his free hand. “You have more than one?”

She laughed, but he didn’t care. She could laugh all she wanted. He would sit and fuck his fist while he pictured her sliding a rubber dick in and out of her sweet, tight pussy.

“I have about a half dozen, but some aren’t as…satisfying as others.” Her breath hitched, then she sighed softly. “This one is almost as good as the real deal.”

“You’re fucking killing me,” he ground out.

“I’d like to suck you.”

The rasp in her voice only amped him up more.

“Outside. In the dark. With your skin all hot and damp, and the breeze cool on my neck.”

He could picture her so perfectly. Feel the sweet tug of her mouth. Her heat. The plush velvet of her tongue. He’d push deeper, dragging the head of his cock over the vulnerable spot at the back of her mouth.

“Hard and deep,” she continued, insinuating her point of view into the vivid images he’d conjured in his head. “My hands on your thighs. Celeste had the right idea. I’d squeeze your quads, feeling them bunch and flex as you pumped into my mouth. I’d stroke your hamstrings and drag my nails lightly, so lightly, under your balls…”

He groaned then, loud and proud. Literally the only response he could manage.

“I’d press you deeper into the fence. The links would give some under the pressure, then bite into your ass. I’d like to bite your ass,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“Do it.” Hell, he’d let her shred him limb from limb if he could only be inside her.

“I wanna suck you, Ty. Outside. In a place where it’s dark but not pitch-black. Where anyone or everyone could see us. See me. On my knees, bringing you to yours.”

“I’m there,” he panted. And his warning was no lie. His cock pulsed with the need to let go. He clenched his teeth hard, and he wished he had the stamina to hold back indefinitely. Make her keep going. Never stop.

Her breathing caught again, then she gave a maddening half squeak, half moan that told him she was teetering right on the edge with him. “I want to suck you so hard you’ll think I turned you inside out.”

“And I’m gonna fill you up.” Words burst out of him with the first pulse of his climax. He went wild. Hot, wet lashes of release streaked his stomach, thighs, and hand, but his orgasm didn’t stop him. He pumped away, fisting his cock in perfect syncopation with the quick puffs of breath exploding in his ear. “I’m gonna come in your mouth. In your pussy. On your tits, your belly, your ass. I’m gonna cover you in me, because you’ve already got me crazy for you.”

She came with a cry she didn’t even bother to stifle. One of the things he liked about Millie—she was a woman who knew how to take her pleasure and revel in it.

But she never let emotion overtake her.

He needed to remember she wasn’t the type to be swept away. And as much as he hated to admit as much, he kind of was.

When he was young, he had dived headfirst into the sea of willing women that surrounded professional athletes. In Europe, he’d seen and done a few things he couldn’t imagine asking an American girl to do. A couple of sophisticated French girls had laughed at what he’d called his “American prudery.”

He’d fucked a Russian dancer with a pierced clit for a while. The sex had been great and the girl nearly insatiable, but he’d bailed when she suggested he poke a hole through his dick. He’d been relieved when his contract was up and he had an excuse to pull up his good old American underpants and run back to the United States with all his parts intact.

He’d thrown himself into coaching and his postgraduate studies with the same single-minded focus he’d brought to the court. And the day Mari first walked into his lecture hall, he’d made up his mind to have her. She’d been so beautiful. So fresh-faced. At least in those days. She was no virgin, of course, but after the excesses he’d seen as a player, her Midwestern sensibilities were a balm. But everything changed not long after they started seeing one another exclusively.

Letting his head fall back, he listened to the sound of Millie’s ragged breathing as he tried to pinpoint exactly when he’d lost the handle on his marriage. First, he had bought her a pair of perfect tits. Mari was self-conscious about the size of her small breasts. While he’d been perfectly satisfied with them, he had wanted her to be happy and comfortable in her own skin, so he’d paid for the augmentation.

The wedding had been a circus. He blamed Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries. Mari’d watched their whole wedding fiasco with rapt attention and figured since she was marrying a basketball player too, she should have the same. Ty hadn’t had the heart to point out he was a somewhat failed and now-retired ballplayer. He also didn’t have a bevy of television executives bankrolling their nuptials. The wedding should have been a big, fat red flag, but he’d been neck deep before reason made even the slightest bit of headway.

After the honeymoon—two weeks at an exclusive Bora Bora resort she’d seen on some celebrity gossip show—she’d moved into his small house off Eastern University’s campus and started her relocation campaign. The offer from Wolcott had given Mari the perfect opportunity to buy and furnish her dream home.

But no matter how much he gave, nothing was ever enough. Between the weight of her demands and the

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