Page 82 of How to Play the Player

“Day by day,” I agree, my thumbs gently caressing her cheeks and wiping away tears. “However long it takes.”

My eyes dart briefly to the glass walls of her office; the transparency leaves us exposed to anyone who might walk by. Without breaking our gaze, I step back and move purposefully toward the door.

"One moment," I say, my voice rough with anticipation.

I close the door with a decisive click, turning the lock before moving to the blinds. One by one, I pull them down, sealing us away from the outside world, creating a sanctuary where only we exist. The room darkens further, lit now only by the warm glow of her desk lamp.

When I turn back to Quinn, her eyes have darkened, her chest rising and falling with quickened breaths. I cross the room in three long strides, drawn to her as though she were my only lifeline.

This time when our lips meet, there's no hesitation. A year of separation—of longing, of unspoken desire—ignites between us. My hands slide from her face to her waist, fingers digging gently into the soft curves of her hips. I lift her in one fluid motion, setting her on the edge of her desk, papers scattering beneath her.

This time, I’m going to claim her as mine.

Quinn gasps against my mouth, her arms immediately wrapping around my neck, fingers threading through my hair, nails lightly scraping my scalp. Her legs part instinctively, allowing me to stand between them as our kiss deepens. Her thighs press against my sides, ankles crossing behind me to keep me close, heels digging slightly into the backs of my legs. I feel my cock close to her entrance as I grind against her.

The taste of her—sweet and alluring—is exactly as I remember yet somehow better, more intoxicating after all this time apart. When her tongue meets mine, a groan escapes me, vibrating through our bodies. My hands find the hem of her blouse, fingers slipping beneath to touch the warm skin of her lower back.

“Nathan,” she breathes against my lips, her voice trembling with need. The sound of my name on her tongue sounds like a prayer I’m desperate to answer.

I trail kisses down her jaw to her neck, lingering at the pulse point that I know drives her wild. Her head falls back, giving me better access as I worship the column of her throat. My teeth graze her skin, not hard enough to mark but to make her shiver against me.

“Tell me you want this,” I murmur against her skin.

Her fingers tighten in my hair, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. Her vulnerability is on full display, just for me. The raw need mixed with lingering caution nearly undoes me.

“I want this,” she says in a breathy but steady voice despite the flush spreading across her face and neck. “I want you. I never stopped.”

That confession breaks something loose inside me. My mouth claims hers again, hungrier now, deeper, as my hands work at the buttons of her blouse. Each one unbuttoned showsanother inch of her soft, beautiful skin. My fingertips brush against her as I go, feeling her shiver at each touch. When the last button yields, I push the fabric from her shoulders, watching it slide down her arms and pool around her on the desk.

Her black lacy bra follows moments later, and my breath catches at the sight of her pert nipples. Her breasts are stunning, perfectly symmetrical and peachy-pink. The golden glow from the desk lamp bathes her skin in warm light, highlighting every curve. Every inch of her is perfect.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, struggling to find words adequate for what I’m feeling. “More than before.”

A smile touches her lips, a shy yet confident expression, something that’s uniquely her. “Your turn.”

Her nimble fingers make quick work of my shirt buttons, each brush of her fingertips against my skin sending electricity all over my body. After she pushes the fabric aside, her palms slide over my chest, exploring with a soft touch. Her cool hands against my skin make me hiss between my teeth. I hold back a groan as she travels lower, her hand reaching past my waistband and grabbing my cock.

“Oh, god,” I breathe.

She starts stroking my shaft. “I’ve missed you.”

I catch her wrist, pulling her from me despite my dick’s protest, before she can undo me completely. “Not yet,” I say, my voice barely recognizable even to my own ears. “Tonight is about you.”

I cup one breast and lower my head to capture her taut pink nipple with my mouth, rolling the sensitive area on my tongue. Her back arches, pushing her body closer as a soft moan escapes her. The sound encourages me to keep going, hardening me further against the zipper of my pants. I search with my free hand for her other breast, thumb brushing over the hardenedpeak. I pinch it between my thumb and forefinger. She trembles beneath my touch.

“Nathan,” she pleads. “I need more.”

Switching gears, I lay her across her desk. Her legs spread before me, her breasts that I’ve pleasured now are nice and taut. What a beautiful sight she is like this. But I need to see more of her.

I have my hands travel down her hips to the hem of her skirt, inching the fabric upward until I can slide my palm along her thigh. The higher my fingers go, the more the need to touch her sweet pussy grows. I trace the edge of her underwear with teasing lightness, seeing how soaked the fabric has become.

“Please,” she whimpers, trying to grind herself against my fingers and shifting restlessly against my touch.

I pull back just enough to look into her eyes, needing to see her completely when I ask, “Are you sure? We can stop?—”

“Don’t you dare stop,” she interrupts, her gaze locking with mine, desperate and filled with desire.

I catch her lips again as my hand pulls off her panties, revealing her pussy to me, the smell of her consuming my nostrils. A sweet musk that’s so her. I lower myself to her soaking core. The slick heat I see nearly undoes me. So pink, so wet, and all mine. To know I still affect her this way after everything fills me with triumph.

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