Page 98 of A Fool's Game

Our lips collide in near violence, Taylor’s mouth warm and wet and tangy from the whiskey. He breathes me in, devoursme like he’s been waiting ages to do it. I guess he has. We both have.

His chin is rough against mine, almost painful, and I press harder, wanting to feel every possible sensation in this moment. His lips are wide open, and I enter him, accept him inside myself.

He grips my dick harder and pumps me, clearly wanting to feel me come with his lips on mine. I fumble around for his dick, which must be as hard as mine, wanting to return the favor, but my limbs are useless as the pleasure merges with the sensation of this man’s mouth sucking me dry.

I moan into his mouth as I come in his hand, bucking forward and back to work myself through it as he grips me tightly, his hand lightening just so as I ride the orgasm, ending me with the softest touch. Much like I would have done myself.

“God, I’ve wanted that so bad,” he says, breaking his mouth from mine and locking his jaws softly around my jawbone.

I’m grateful for the moment of air and take advantage, panting and squeezing my eyes closed. I want to say something meaningful, to tell him the truth of how much that just meant to me. The truth of how long I’ve wanted it as well. Instead, I say nothing.

“You gonna let me clean you up?” Taylor asks, hand sliding around my body, still inside my shorts, until his wet, sticky hand is gripping my hip.

“What?” I stutter stupidly, mind still spinning too quickly to process words.

“Are you gonna let me…”

He starts to sink to his knees in front of me, and the sight jerks me back to reality.

I grip him by the back of the shirt and pull him roughly to standing once more.

I have to look away from his amused smile as I shake my head. “Not here.”

His eyebrows raise. “Where?”

“Bed?” I say, just to get us moving.

I do want things. I want all the things, and I want them with Taylor. But the fact that we’re standing in the dark in Dom’s kitchen at my father’s resort is suddenly making me feel too exposed.

“The thrill of getting it on somewhere forbidden isn’t doing it for you?”

“It is. It was, I guess. But now I just feel…” I can’t put the feeling into words, but luckily I don’t have to.

Taylor takes a step back, reaching down to grab a mango that rolled out of my bag. “Well, we can’t have that.”

We gather the food back up, shoving the muffins and pastries into the bag, and Taylor carrying the fruit in his hands and shorts pockets.The hallways are dark and then dim, making it easier to avoid his gaze. The elevator, however, is another story.

I feel him staring at me where I lean on the far side of the tiny metal box, paper bag clutched to my chest. When I look up, all I see are his lips, the ones I can still taste on my own.

I lick my lips unconsciously, and he’s on me in an instant, fruit falling to the floor.

Everything I thought I knew and felt about kissing, and touching, and breathing in the scent of another human falls to the wayside as our mouths collide once more. He’s rough and smooth and soft and hard, and so strong and not afraid to hurt me.

I suddenly remember what he said to me all those weeks ago in Gem’s kitchen, about how you don’t need to be so gentle with a man, and my vision nearly goes black at the thought of it.

“I wanna…” I’m panting as Taylor’s mouth slides down my jawline and down my neck.

“Yeah?” he breathes against my skin.

“I wanna hurt you.” It’s more of a moan than words, but Taylor hears them, letting out a groan as his face tucks into the crook of my neck.

“You keep saying shit like that, we’re not going to make it to bed.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. We emerge as one, limbs tangled, mouths still fighting for dominance.

Snacks carelessly discarded in the living room, we kiss and touch all the way up the stairs to the bedroom.

Gem’s still in bed, her soft snoring barely audible over the crash of the waves from the open window.

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