Page 32 of Anti-Player

“You got me a gift?” I laugh explosively; I'm a ball of anxiety. “It's not my birthday.”

He just shrugs with a tiny smile.

Approaching him, trying to read his mysterious expression, I take the box. “If this is more candy, I'll be a little disappointed after all your build up.”

“Only a little?” he chuckles.

“Well, I like candy, so I can only be so let down...” I trail off. I've torn the paper, opened the box, and what I see leaves me silent. Not everyone would know what this gift is. But I do.

“Do you like it?” he asks eagerly.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I pull the shiny VR bodysuit into full view. It has a pleasant feel, like satiny spandex, nice and thick so it won't tear easily. It's lime green, wrinkle free, and covered from neck to ankle to wrist in white dots hard as ceramic while no bigger than the tip of my pinkie. “How... when...”

“I studied other rigs,” he says, hovering over me. “I spent a week researching, testing, ordering parts, testing again. Then about 3 days building it.”

My head jerks up to gawk at him. “Mikel, wait, you built this?”

“Yeah. It's custom made for you and you alone.” He's beaming, speaking excitedly. He spots something in my eyes and it makes him flinch. “Is it too much? Are you upset, Paige?”

Wordlessly I look back at the suit. This is better than anything on the market. I can't buy one like this, and anything close will run multiple thousands of dollars. Cookie's VR suit is over the counter but she'd modified it, making it top of the line. I don't think anyone has a better rig.

Until now.

“Paige,” he says urgently.

Carefully I fold the suit into the box, setting it on his couch. Then I grab him by the front of his white shirt, yank him to my level, and kiss him like he's the only source of air in the room. “Upset?” I ask, gasping as I lean away. “Are you kidding? Mikel, this is the most amazing gift anyone could ever give me. Thank you. Thank you so much!”

He grins fully, dimples and all, but I kiss him again and erase them. I don't know what to do with all the energy in my blood, all the joy. He says, “Wait!” Laughing heartily, he holds me at arms length. I glance at his sweat pants—see his erection—know he doesn't really want to stop. “Try it on,” he insists. “I want to see if it fits and works.”

“Right now?” I ask.

“Please.”

Puffing my cheeks out in a pout, I finally relent. “Fine. I guess it's smart to make sure it's the real deal before I thank you properly.” I wink, delighting in how his eyes half-close, nostrils flaring. I feel sexual... powerful. The feeling grows as I kick off my sneakers, undoing the top of my jeans, wriggling them down my full thighs.

I'm the object of Mikel's attention. The only thing that exists for him. He leans against the couch, hands squeezing the cushions on top as if he has to hold something to keep from snatching at me. When I thrust out my chest, crop-top going up and over my lacy white bra, he groans loudly. “Jesus Christ, Paige. Could you be any sexier?” he rasps.

“I can,” I chuckle, “if you ask me to be.” In just my underwear and bra and socks, I push my feet into the suit. It's slippery like butter, nice and cool to the touch. The fabric hugs me as I work it up over my knees, then into the gap between my thighs.

It fits a little tight. Or maybe I'm just incredibly turned on and aware of every inch of my body where it makes contact. The sensation of the VR suit is exquisite, especially as it cradles my swollen pussy.

“Damn,” he growls. I look up—his knuckles are bone white as he crushes the couch. The shape of his hard-on bulges in his pants, broadcasting the thickness, the need, that he has for me. I stare for a second, forgetting what I'm doing. “Go on,” he breathes faster, “keep going.”

Swallowing the dryness in my throat, I yank the arms up, covering my breasts, finding the zipper along my spine to seal me in. My suit at home is baggy, a poor size made worse by stretching it on and off. Cheap material that does the job. This new suit is much better, and weirdly enough, I feel like a super hero in it.

I meet his hungry stare. “Well?”

He says nothing.

“Is it perfect?” I ask, twirling slowly, giving him a view from every angle. On my second rotation he jumps off the couch and grabs me around my middle. I gasp in anticipation, my hot skin scalding with fresh lust.

Mikel pushes me against his granite island. “It wasn't perfect,” he states sharply. His lips lower to my ear, kissing until I tremble. “Not until you got inside it.”

Reaching between my thighs, he strokes my pussy just above my clit, deliberately avoiding it until I squirm. “Speaking of putting things inside,” I whimper.

His eyes darken. “How sexy did you feel undressing for me?” He rubs his hand lower, then dodges to the right, holding my hip. “Or was it the dressing up part that got you so hot?”

“Both,” I admit. I try to arch my pelvis into him; he lets go of my hip, spinning me around so my stomach rests on the counter. I see his clean sink free of all hints of even water droplets. His condo is immaculate. It's the opposite of my home... the opposite of me. Mikel is messy in the social parts of his life, but the rest of it is crisp perfection.

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