Page 5 of Wicked Player

I didn’t step back. There was little room for her to stand up straight and as she did, I took in the slight sway of her petite breasts. Trim muscles peaked across her abdomen and showed in her thighs.

Her hair swayed and swished with her movements. Long, glistening blonde tresses that would shine once wrapped around my tan fist.

Once she was standing, her hands were almost plastered to my chest we were so close. Her head tilted back as if she finally understood how tall I really was. Almost a full foot taller. Her head barely came up to my shoulders and she peered up at me.

Fucking blindfold. For the first time, I wanted to see a woman’s eyes. I imagined hers were blue, perhaps a pale shade of gold that matched her hair. Either way, I knew her pupils would be dilated, proving her excitement.

I dropped my hands and fisted them at my sides, muscles bunched at my biceps as she pressed her hands there. It took all my strength not to throw her down on the bed and rip off her blindfold.

“Remove the buttons on my shirt,” I demanded, my voice rough and husky. My self-control was hanging on by a thread.

Still, she interested me. Called to me. Her fingers were nimble and quick, quivering, not from fear, but anticipation. Nothing she’d shown me so far gave any indication she was nervous to be having sex with a complete, faceless stranger.

Should that bother me? Probably.

Did I give a shit? Fuck no. I was harder than I’d been in months.

She undid each button methodically, even sliding her hands down my arms to remove the ones at my wrists. And once it was draped open, pulled from my belt, my dick pressing against the zipper, demanding freedom, I grabbed her hand.

“Oh,” she gasped. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” I pressed her hand to my crotch. She’d avoided it on purpose and it was time to remind her who was really in charge. “But you’ve neglected something important.” Her hand curled around my hard length and her breathing went erratic. “Undo the rest of my pants and free me.”

Three

Elizabeth

Touch him? John—and I doubted that was his real name if he really wanted anonymity like Tristan said—wanted me to touch him? Already I could tell how large he was. Through his trousers, which I imagined black, I could barely wrap my hand around the hardness there.

I’d been blindfolded by strangers before, but this was different.Hewas different There was something about him. His voice. The way he spoke with control. The baritone richness of his voice was a beautiful melody to my ears.

It could have been because the room was black, his voice dark and my vision blocked. But I imagined him in my head and so far, his body was even larger than anything I could comprehend.

He’d have black hair as dark as coal. Brown eyes as rich as my favorite dark chocolate bar. His lips would be full and thick, like the rest of him. Everywhere my hands had roamed, he’d felt like warm marble, his body the kind you’d see sculpted to perfection in a museum, or plastered on the cover of romance novels.

This man was no Fabio though. He’d be a warrior. A fighter of some sort.

Amazing how a lack of senses increased so much more.

Even his hand wrapped around my wrist, using both of our hands to rub the length of him was strong and hot. Searing my flesh with an indescribableneedto do every single little thing he commanded.

“Don’t get nervous now, little one,” he said.

He’d not only moved closer, but he’d bent his head. His warm breath skimmed over my ear, across my cheek. I fought a delicious shiver and lost.

His chuckle, acknowledging and liking my reaction, was my reward.

“It’s hard to undo your zipper when you’re holding my hand,” I told him. I could tease and boss with the best of them.

I craved submission. I also enjoyed submitting more when my partner had to work to earn the right to have it.

A thousand ideas flashed behind my darkened lids of how this man, this big strong man with a sexy as hell voice, could earn that from me.

He pressed my hand firmly against his cock. It was so damn thick, I yearned to feel the full weight of him in my hand. His hand let me go and I took the moment to squeeze, to test, but impatience won out and soon I was at his waist.

I undid the button.

Then his zipper.

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