Page 18 of Anti-Player

I blush furiously even as my heat swells. “I didn't know you could see up my dress. Why would you not tell me?”

Mikel hesitates. “I didn't want to stop our conversation. I worried, if I told you, you'd think I was being a pervert and kick me out.”

“You were being a pervert,” I chuckle.

There—that dark charm twinkles in his eyes again. Like stars in a brilliant onyx sky. “Maybe. Will you kick me out now that you know?”

Grabbing my dress from him I rip it over my head in a fast motion. My breasts bounce from how quick I act, barely constrained in my cotton sports bra. Part of me regrets not wearing something sexier, but I hadn't planned for this. Hoped, maybe, but not planned.

He gazes at me with half-lidded eyes. I take the opportunity to study his body, too, now that he's naked from the waist up. His business attire had hidden the lean shape his muscles made from his broad chest down to the deep V cut into his pelvis. It's better than the photos I found online.

Our bodies can't be more different. I'm the soft mound of crème brulee, he's the hard spoon coming in to carve me apart. I love myself, love my body, but if there was a chance for me to feel self-conscious, he erases it with a simple exhale of, “Wow.”

“Wow?” I ask curiously.

“You're beautiful,” he says simply, the way you'd note the sky is blue. Mikel gives me a gentle nudge so that I sit on my bed, the mattress sinking under me. He sinks next, going between my bare thighs. “I have to taste you, Paige. I can't wait anymore.”

“Me either,” I groan, stroking his scalp, encouraging him towards my pussy. He spreads my legs, then traces the soft contours down, out, over my knees and back again. Everywhere he touches he creates an urge. Lightning that becomes goosebumps that becomes a hungry twitch in my pussy.

I was right about his fingers; he's an expert with them.

He licks the front of my panties until his saliva saturates what my juices haven't. Digging his teeth into the fabric he rips them down, out of the way like he's furious at them. His nose rests on my labia, and I shiver when he inhales loudly through his nostrils, filling his head with my scent.

With two fingers he nudges my clit-hood back, exposing me. I tense up, unsure I can handle such a direct contact. But Mikel is gentle to the point of torture; soft licks on either side, lips that kiss tenderly, until I'm shoving my fist against my mouth to try and stifle my cries of lust.

“No more,” I groan, snatching at his shoulders. “Fuck me, Mikel, please!”

“You're sure?” he asks, staring at me from between my knees with my juice along his chin. It's insane to me that he'd ask, but it makes me want him more.

“Do you have a condom?” I ask.

He stands to his full height; his erection tents the front of his pants, bulging the material, begging to be free. Undoing his belt, he watches my expression as he slides out his engorged cock, the fat tip shining with pre-cum.

Slowly he jerks his shaft as he watches me with half-shut eyes. “You're so gorgeous, Paige. Impossibly so, my cock is so hard it's killing me.” Slipping a foil packet from his back pocket, he tears it, then glides the condom inch by precious inch down his length. Each movement has my pussy clenching with impatience.

I scoot back on my bed to give him room to join me; his hands land on either side of my shoulders, our bare skin rubbing together. His chest is hard while my breasts relent like they're the same material as the pillow under my head. Working my hands in between us I shift my elbows, my shoulders, until my bra is out of the way.

He stops what he's doing so he can survey the way my dusky nipples harden in the air. They tighten, firm, just because he's staring at them with feral lust. “Mikel,” I whimper.

We shouldn't be doing this. It's beyond out of character for me.

But what about him?

I don't know enough to judge if he's a player, if he hooks up with girls and tosses them aside. Not that I'm against some NSA sex, I just... I don't like making mistakes. I like knowing that I'm being smart. I like...

God, I really like how his mouth feels on my nipple.

Mikel groans as he suckles me, fingers lightly twisting my other breast's rosy pink tip. He plays with me like he knows my body. Grinding my hips on his, I scrape my nails over his back. “Fuck me,” I hiss, my whole body shaking with need. “Please, stop making me wait!”

“Holy hell,” he grunts, grabbing the base of his cock, spreading me wide with the huge head. His girth is amazing, but it's the way he enters me—so restrained, controlled, like he's memorizing the experience to relive it later—that drives me crazy. His forearms tremble as he steadies himself over me, mouth gaping, a haziness in his pupils. Mikel never breaks eye contact the whole time he stretches his cock into my body with a single, insistent slow stroke.

“Ah!” I sigh when he's finally all the way in. He cradles my cheek, kissing me through a grimace. He's in control, but it's taking all he has to do it, I think. And should I be surprised, really, that a man so obsessed with his work would be just as deliberate with how he fucks?

But I want to come. I don't care about patience or perfection anymore. Mikel won me over, my body craves him, my pussy aches for him, and if I don't orgasm soon I might scream in frustration. He senses my need, pumping into me faster, harder, kissing me while he keeps toying with my nipples.

I catch the concentration in his blue eyes—is he listening to my heart? Trying to predict when my orgasm will begin? My muscles tighten, inner walls massaging his cock as all the vibrations come together in one big wall of pressure inside of me. “Fuck, yes!” I sob, clinging to him like he's the only rock in the sea I'm lost in, the only security keeping me from drowning in the dark. I come hard, loud, screaming until someone bangs on the apartment wall.

Mikel laughs, but the sweat beading his brow gives away his failing control. His fists clutch my blankets. He thrusts hard enough to rattle my teeth while chasing his own pleasure now that mine is complete. I barely hang on, delirious with the whirlwind of delight he coats me in. His cock swells in me, so big I worry it might hurt. "Tell me you want me to come," he demands. "I want your pretty voice to say it for me."

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