“Take your underwear off.”

His eyes narrow on me.

“Please.” I offer him a sweet smile.

His hand leaves me long enough to pull the shorts off, and he’s kneeling in front of me, completely naked.

Holy hell this man is gorgeous!

Seriously gorgeous.

“I love this,” he whispers as he brushes his finger across my metal, making me squirm.

“I’m glad.”

“It’s fucking sexy.” He leans down and swipes his tongue over it twice and just like that, I wrap his hair in my fingers and come against him.

Just as I am able to open my eyes again, Will climbs up my body, and nestles his long, hard cock against my center, and leans in and kisses me.

“Mmm,” I moan and wrap my arms around him, keeping him close to me. “You feel so good.”

“Meg, open your eyes,” he whispers as he moves his hips in just that way that slides the head of his cock against my clit.

His deep blue eyes stare down into mine as he rears back and braces the impressive head of his cock against my lips.

“Are you sure?” he whispers.

“Will, in me. Now.”

He smiles softly and pushes inside me, oh so slowly.

Sweet Jesus, he’s so big. Maybe this isn’t going to work. There’s no way I can take all of him.

My eyes widen, but he kisses me softly. “It’s okay. We’ll take it slow and easy.”

His hips retreat, and then he pushes in again, a bit farther this time.

“Just relax. I won’t hurt you.” He kisses my cheek and my neck, and then kisses my lips again as his hips find a long, slow rhythm. He ever so gently slides out and then in, going deeper and deeper each time until finally he’s all the way inside me, and he stops and gazes down at me.

“You feel so fucking good,” he whispers.

“You can move,” I whisper back. I love how quiet the room is, as though we’re writing our own song.

“I just love feeling you wrapped around me. I’ve never felt anything like you.” He barely moves his hips, but it grinds his pubic bone against the metal above my clit and I gasp.

“Piercing?” he asks.

“Yeah, it hits my clit when you move your hips like that.”

“Good to know,” he mutters with a smug grin.

I rotate my hips and clench around him, wanting desperately for him to move.

“Ah, hell, don’t do that.”

I smile and do it again.

“Megan, this won’t last long if you keep…” Before he can finish the sentence I rotate my hips again and squeeze my intimate muscles and he starts to really move, gliding out to the tip, and then back in to the hilt.

“Oh, yes.”

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me, babe.” His voice is raw and sweat is beading on his forehead and I’m stunned at how much he wants me.

“I want you. Just you.”

“Damn right, just me.” And with that he picks up the pace, rocking in and out of me, thrusting harder and harder, so when he’s pushed as far as he can go, it almost hurts. He’s so big, there’s no avoiding it.

“Goddamn it,” his teeth are clenched. He grabs my hands, laces our fingers, and pulls them above my head, restraining me. “You’re so fucking sweet.”

Every touch of his pubis against my clit is setting me on fire, until finally I can’t stand it anymore. I feel the orgasm building, my legs clench, I grip his hands harder.

“Come,” he whispers in my ear and bites my neck, sending me over the edge, pulsing and bucking beneath him in the best damn orgasm of my life.

“Ah, hell,” he shouts and follows me with his own release. He buries his face in my neck and unlocks our fingers. I wrap my arms around him and cradle him to me, still inside me, and know that I’m totally and completely lost to this beautiful man.

He rolls to the side and takes me with him, reversing our positions. He manages to stay inside me, and I’m in no hurry to kick him out.

“Well, I guess it’s safe to say we’re compatible in bed,” I murmur against his chest. He laughs and kisses my head.

“True, but you might kill me.”

“How so?”

“Now that I’ve had you, I won’t be able to get enough of you. I think I’m addicted to how you feel, how you sound, and being buried deep inside you.”

I don’t really mind the sound of that at all.

And besides, it’s totally mutual.

I sigh and rest my arm across his chest. Will traces the music inked on my arm with his finger.

“What song is it?” he asks softly.

“I Dare You To Move by Switchfoot.”

“What part of the song is this?”

Startled, I gaze up at him. “You do know me pretty well already, don’t you?”

“You wouldn’t permanently put anything on your body unless it meant something. What lyrics go with this music?” He smiles down at me and kisses my forehead.

I’ve never shared this with anyone.

“I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor.” I whisper and feel Will sigh.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmurs and drops the subject.

“I like yours too.” I grin up at him and then pinch him.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“You never told me you have a tattoo.”

“You never asked.” He hugs me tighter and sweeps his hand down my back to my ass and back up again.

I want to purr like a kitten.

“I get the number eight is your jersey number, but what does the rest mean?” I ask him and trace the number eight on his side. His tattoo is over his ribcage on his right side. It’s the number eight surrounded by lots of little lines and squiggles that don’t seem to make any sense.

“Look closely,” he mutters and raises his arm so I can get a better look.

Holy shit.

“It’s all the players’ signatures?” I ask.

“Yep. It represents my team. I may be the center of it, but I’m surrounded by a whole team of great men and really good players. So I had a board made with the number in the middle and asked all the guys to sign around it, and there it is.”

“Do you add names as teammates come and go?” I ask.

“Yeah. It started with college, and I’ve added the names as the years go by.”

“What if your number changes?” I ask.

“It’s not going to. They retired my number at UW and Seattle will probably do the same when I retire.”