Free The Perfect Stroke by Jordan Marie

you don’t hurry, then I’m going to fuck you against the wall because that’s how much I need you right now.”
    “First door on your left down the hall,” I tell him, grinning.
    I guess food will have to wait.
     

 
    My patience is almost at an end and I don’t want to scare her by acting like a Neanderthal, but there’s no way I can stop it. I’m usually smooth with women, but CC is unlike any woman I’ve ever known. Hell, her effect on me is unlike any before her. She lights a fire inside my blood and whenever she’s near, I can feel it burning.
    I devour her lips as we make it to the door of her room. I kick open her door and it slams against the inside wall, bounces back enough that I have to push against it again as we cross the threshold. The bed is just about five feet in front of me, but that’s five feet too much. I turn and push her against the wall. For a second I gain my sanity enough to worry I’ve hurt her, but she’s busy pulling my shirt up my body. I alternate bracing her body with one hand and letting the wall support her while I get the damn thing off, grinning as she throws the shirt to the floor.
    “So much better,” she breathes. “God, I love your body.”
    “It’s all the swinging and driving balls into holes,” I tell her.
    She lightly runs her nails on the middle of my chest, playing with the fine line of hair I have there, then stops to look up at me. She’s laughing, her eyes shining, her lips in a full smile that pull apart as the laughter bursts out.
    “Maybe I’m starting to gain a new appreciation for golf.”
    “Hold tight baby and I’ll make sure you do.”
    Her hands move up my body slowly and link behind my neck. “I’m holding,” she whispers right before she brings her lips back to mine. I capture them, sucking on them, moaning at the burst of flavor that hits my tongue—strawberries from her lip gloss, and a sweetness in flavor that reminds me of sugar and candy. It’s a taste I associate solely with CC now, a taste that has become my one addiction.
    A taste I have to get more of.
    Her tongue wraps around mine, mating with it and feeling so perfect that I groan. Never . Never has a woman got to me the way that CC continually does. That means something, I’m sure, but right now, I don’t have the energy or the spare brain cells to think about it.
    “We need you out of these damned clothes,” I mutter when we break away and I finally drag air back into my lungs. She grins at me, her hands going to unbutton her pants.
    “Let me down,” she breathes. My fingers tighten into her ass, automatically fighting the command. I don’t want her out of my arms. Where CC is concerned, I find I react very much like a caveman. “Gray,” she whimpers, her hips thrusting against me. Her need is heavy in her voice. “I need to feel my skin against yours.” Her words somehow seep through the fog in my brain, the same brain that demands I take her but is too lust-filled to work out the logistics.
    I gather her one last time against my body, angling and tilting her so that her pussy is aligned perfectly with my dick and then I grind into her. Even through our clothes, I know she can feel how hard and ready I am. I want her to know exactly what she’s doing to me. Her hands have moved and I can feel her nails bite into my back as she struggles to remain tightly pressed against me—not wanting to let go—just like me. Finally, she takes control and pushes away from me and I’m forced to set her on the floor. My hands feel empty and I’m tempted to keep one hand on her as she undresses, except I need my own clothes out of the way. I immediately go to work unbuttoning my pants and pushing them from my body. I kick them somewhere, not really giving a fuck. I’m just thankful I had the foresight to take off my shoes when I first got here.
    When I look back up, CC has already undressed except for her bra and panties: little pieces of dark blue silk that cling to her