Page 9 of Wicked Player

“Coming,” I gasped.

“No.”

“I can’t…”

“You can. Hold on.” Then his hand tightened further. He choked me lightly but firmly. I could breathe but it was difficult and that fear mixed with the loss of oxygen did it.

He went wild with his thrusts, pounding into me until the bed shook and creaked. It was all magnified in my ears and then he ground his pelvis against mine.

“John!” I cried out. My hand clawed at his arm. My other went to his hip. Then his hand was gone, at my breast, pulling my nipple, and it was all I needed. That sting of pain, the extra amount of air. I grabbed onto him, held on while a third and more beautiful, more painfully blissful climax careened me over the edge.

He followed immediately. Cursing and groaning while his thrusts went erratic, hard and deep and oh so damn fast I was still in the throes of my orgasm when he pounded into me and stayed there. He pulsed inside of me and took my mouth, kissing me while he grunted and released his own orgasm deep inside.

He stayed there, kissing me roughly but slower in pace. He seemed almost languid and unhurried now that he’d finished. My grip on his hip loosened.

His forehead pressed again mine, as he made small, teasing thrusts that still felt beautiful. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not even close.”

“Good.”

I kissed his jaw, his throat. I kissed everywhere I could reach by arching which wasn’t much considering the weight on me.

Holy shit. I’d just had the most incredible sex with a man and I didn’t even know what he looked like. Talk about perverse.

“I’m going to pull out. Stay where you are. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” I muttered. Moving seemed awfully difficult anyway. I whimpered at the loss of him, the tender way he kissed down my belly, my thighs, to my ankles as he climbed off the bed. He was only gone for a moment, to dispose of the condom I imagined. A drawer opened and closed and I knew what that meant, but I still jumped when the warm cloth was pressed against my center. He cleaned me, wiped at my thighs and my center and then he was back in the bed, next to me, running his hand up my stomach, between my breasts, he tilted my head toward him and his lips met mine.

“You were really fantastic.”

“Thank you. You too.”

“I don’t usually do repeats,” he said and at the mention of it…what this was…something in my stomach sank. It might have been my heart. “I want to see you again. Soon.”

“Okay.” Did I sound cool? Too eager? I hoped for cool and nonchalant. Based on his chuckle, I doubted I did either.

“I’ll set it up with Tristan then.” He was whispering as if what we’d done was special. It’d been intimate and rough, but special?

To me, yes. Submitting was always gratifying. A stress relief. Hard and intense sex eased my mind and helped me relax.

But I could never remember a time where it’d feltspecial. At least, not during the first time. Which also meant this guy was dangerous.

I lifted my hand and brushed his cheek. He stilled for a moment and relaxed as I familiarized myself with the feel of him. Strong jaw, coarse but short hair. Good cheekbones. Much like everything else about him, his face felt hard and firm, as if he didn’t smile much or maybe wasn’t all that happy.

He wasn’t my puzzle to solve though.

“I’ll make sure Tristan knows I’m up for more time with you,” I said, choking down the words I really wanted to say.

Please…let me see you.

“Okay then.” He kissed my nose and moved, but it felt like it took forever, almost like he didn’t want to leave. “You really were great, Beth. I’m looking forward to next time.”

“Me too.”

“Stay here until the door closes, okay?”

What was I doing? Another round with a guy I couldn’t see who would certainly keep that between us again?

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