Page 32 of The Devil's Playground

Completely naked now, my dick—semi-hard before her perusal—twitches, then grows bigger as Nicolette’s lips part, her eyes suddenly glazed over with desire.

I’m a vain bastard. When half the time I’m reduced down to my appearance more than anything, it would take a man a shit ton stronger than I am not to let it go to my head.

Giving my cock a leisurely stroke, I stalk back toward the bed.

“Scoot back, baby. Sit up against the pillows, grab the headboard, and hold on.”

It takes her two seconds to understand what my intentions are. When she does? She does the last thing I expect after what just happened downstairs.

Nicolette closes her legs, clamping her thighs together.

“What’s the matter, Nic?”

She mumbles something.

Frowning, I say, “I didn’t hear that.”

“I said, I haven’t trimmed lately, okay? You don’t want your face down there, trust me.”

Is that what’s going on here?

“Oh, Nic… I’m dying to find out how you taste straight from the source. You think a little hair is going to stop me?”

She shrugs, hugging herself.

This is happening. I just need her to be comfortable with it before I dive in…

“What’s the deal? We both know I didn’t have a problem with it before.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, in my experience, guys don’t care if there’s bush when they stick their dick in. It’s a little different when that’s where your face goes.”

My plan was to ease her into this. To make her so addicted to me so I can justify just how addicted I am to her.

Until she says that.

ELEVEN

ABOUT FUCKING TIME

ROYCE

Suddenly, it feels like the ice from outside has settled in my gut.

Guys…

‘Guys’ implies plural, and when she says ‘in my experience’, she’s talking about the other men she’s been with.

Fuck, no.

I’m no saint; not just because I’m a Sinner, either. Since Heather, I’ve lost track of my one-night-stands and the women I spent a week or two with before I moved on. Even before her, I had a couple of girlfriends. While each one was important to me once—and I have good thoughts and fond memories of most of them—I keep them where they belong: in my past.

The Nicolette I’ve seen tonight is obviously no doe-eyed virgin. I never thought she’d be. It’s one of the things that drew me to her in the first place, the haunted look in her soft brown eyes that warned she’s seen some shit, and how she found a way to smile past it. There is still a touch of naiveté about her—or desperation—that I saw when she agreed to spend a night with Miles, and I almost pity the poor bastard for losing out after she climbed into my lap before.

Ten grand? The way she arched her back, completely naked below the waist while insisting she keep her top on… it was so fucking erotic, I don’t know how I didn’t nut right away.

Even now I’m humming in place, the musk of our sex clinging to our skin, her tempting pussy only inches away from my watering mouth having me on the edge of losing complete control…

I need this, and she’s going to give it to me.

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