Page 83 of How to Play the Player

I stroke her clit in slow, small circles at first. Though I’d only touched her like this a few days ago, I want to take my time with her. To relearn the pressure and rhythm that makes her breath catch and turns her moans into screams.

My slow pleasure must be affecting her because she squirms under my touch, pulls herself closer, anything to get more friction. With one hand I hold her down with my hand against her stomach while I slip two fingers inside her with the other. I curve them at the sweet spot behind her clit. Her body archesmore, her breath becomes more erratic. With my thumb, I circle her clit again, this time with more speed. Not enough to send her over but enough to rile her up.

Her breaths turn into desperate moans, her body squirms more under my hold, and the sweet cream of her pussy coats my fingers. She’s close, but I don’t want her to come undone just yet.

I’m so thirsty.

I pull my fingers from her core, kissing the inside of her thigh. She melts back into the desk; an aroused sigh escapes her lips. “Please, yes.”

I reach closer and closer to her sex until I rake my tongue through her slit. She’s plump, soaking, and ready. Tasting her again is like finally coming home. Why the fuck did I ever walk away in the first place? To think I was ready to never have this with her again, never have her again.

I swipe at her hard clit, keeping my focus on the sensitive bud. Mixing the touch of point and pressure, I suck, lave, and tease. I feel her thighs on both sides of my head begin to shake. Perfect.

Quickly, her toes curl, her fingers dig into my scalp, pulling me farther into her essence. She’s close, which is a stunning sight to see.

“I…I need you.” She tries to breathe through her climax.

I quickly replace my tongue with my fingers again, keeping the same pace that’s slowly setting her on fire. “That’s it, little one,” I encourage her. “Let go for me. Come.”

I feel her walls around my fingers clench, her body stiffen. Her thighs tremble against my hips as her breath catches a sob of release. Crashing her lips to mine, I hold her through every wave of orgasm, every aftershock, pressing gentle kisses to her temple and lips.

But I’m not done yet. Not even close. Just not here.

I withdraw my hand and lean forward to meet her eyes. They’re dazed and dilated. Her cheeks are red, her breathing rapid. All with a lazy smile.

I can’t help but grin back. “How are you feeling?” I say, caressing her face.

She moans. “I want more.” She sits up, reaching for my belt, but I stop her. My hand covering hers. She looks up at me with a combination of arousal and confusion.

“Not here,” I say softly. “I want to take you home. You deserve better than this.”

This reconnection deserves more than a quickie on her office desk, as tempting as it is in the moment. I want to take my time with her, give her space and privacy, a bed where I can worship her properly.

Slowly nodding in understanding, she lets go of my belt. “Your place or mine?” she asks as I help her down from the desk, steadying her when her legs tremble beneath her. Her smile is both shy and seductive as she retrieves her blouse from the desk.

Good, because by morning, she’ll be unable to walk.

“Mine. Tonight is about you. So keep your panties off.”

Quinn

The drive to his apartment is the longest twenty minutes of my life. Of all the evenings, this one seems to be the one where we hit every red light. Each stop makes waiting feel like an eternity, especially when every car in front of us is moving impossibly slow.

Nathan’s hand rests on my thigh. His thumb tracing circles close to my inner thigh that send shivers up my spine. I can’t stop stealing glances at his profile—the strong line of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes as he focuses on the road, the tight grip of the steering wheel that tells me he’s just as impatient as I am.

When we finally pull into his apartment complex, I’m practically vibrating with anticipation. His hand catches mine as we walk from the car to his door, our fingers intertwined.

Handing me his keys, I fumble with opening the door, suddenly nervous despite the fact he’s already seen me naked and driven me to orgasm with his hands and tongue several times.

Nathan stands directly behind me, his hands gliding up and down my waist and hips. His breath warm against my neck, his hard chest at my back as his erection presses against me. He’s distracting me to where I almost drop the keys.

Finally, when I do manage to get the door open, he follows me inside, closing the door firmly behind us.

I turn to face him. For a moment, we just stand in his darkened entryway. Only streetlamps that filter through the curtains light the space. Tonight feels different. Being here with him—in his space again—brings back the same rush of emotions I used to have when we were together. Then I needed him, craved him, loved him. And with this similar feeling, I know that hasn’t changed. I just never thought I’d feel like that with anyone, much less him, again.

He reaches for a light switch, illuminating his apartment in a soft glow, before closing what little distance there is between us. Meeting him halfway, I stand on my toes and press my lips against his. The kiss starts slow, deliberate, but quickly ignites into something similar to a ravenous hunger, from both of us.

He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into his chest. His heart races beneath my palms. “Jump,” he demands in a rough voice between kisses.

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