Page 33 of Anti-Player

Control.

And I love that... knowing he can be so precise. It lets him build amazing things—like the VR suit—and it lets him drive me wild. I've heard opposites attract, but this is more than push or pull, it's like we need each other to create synchronization. A music duet, or a violin and its bow. Two of his long fingers spread over my pussy lips, plucking like they're strings he can elicit a melody from.

He massages me from behind. I groan from low in my throat, trying to sit up, but he puts his weight on my back to keep me trapped. “Mikel, come on, just fuck me,” I beg.

“No. Not yet.” His teeth graze my sensitive throat, not hurting, before he kisses my cheek. His palm smacks my ass, causing me to yelp as heat makes my clit thrum. “I'm still testing the gift I made for you.”

“I don't think it needs this kind of testing,” I try to laugh, but I'm panting like an animal.

“Every invention needs rigorous testing,” he explains, squeezing my other ass-cheek. He pushes my thighs apart with his feet until he stands inside the width. His fingers explore the path from my clit to my asshole, then back down, driving me insane.

I feel my juices drip and let out a desperate whimper. “Mikel, please, I'm... I'll get the suit wet.”

“Good.” He spanks me again, then pets my pussy mercilessly, no hint of the denial from earlier. “Let's see how it handles getting soaked. I can tweak it, make it water proof.”

“No, wait, I don't want to risk wrecking this, it had to cost a fortune!”

“Yes,” he admits, stroking my clitoris with slow circles. “In that case, don't come. How hard is it for you to resist?”

“You jerk,” I moan, thrusting back at him. He smirks against my cheek, turning me to kiss him, and I do it hungrily. Our tongues swirl, my cells on fire as he rubs my pussy up and down, side to side, thumbing my engorged clit through the smooth material until it's obvious to both of us I'm going to orgasm.

“Mikel!” I scream, arching into his body, seeking more of his touch, more of him. “Oh my god oh my... ah...!”

“That's it, that's right, come for me,” he demands. His voice is gritty and raw. It pushes me over the edge as much as his expert fingering does. “I want to feel it, I need to feel it—you're so fucking close, Paige. Show me, show me how good you come!”

With my chest on the cool granite, my eyes squeezing shut, I lose my sense of direction. Hot pulses surge from my clit through my core, chasing all my atoms, looking for any senses of mine they haven't attacked. I come loudly, muscles shaking so hard my joints should have come undone.

It's amazing... better than last time, better than it has any right to be.

Is this what it's like with someone you trust?

Someone you care about?

I'll never be able to go back to anything less after being with Mikel. And a tiny, hopeful voice in my brain warns, Maybe you don't have to.

“Okay,” he says, catching his breath, easing off of me so I can stand. “Let's slow down. Take a break. The suit can obviously survive a beating. If you want, I'll wash it before you take it home.”

I snag him around his waist. “I'm sorry, did I hear you say slow down? No no no. I don't think so.” With a wicked smile, I wet my lips, hook my nails in the soft fabric of his pants, then lower them down. “It's your turn.”

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