Page 66 of Play Dirty

That’s usually my least favorite thing—I always feel like maybe I’m doing it wrong, or that the person I’m with won’t like it. But I don’t believe that will be the case with Marty.

I lift up, so his cock is barely inside of me, and then drop back down. I do it a few more times, finding the rhythm that makes me clench and spasm in anticipation of what’s to come—I’m already close.

Marty flicks a finger across my clit, a quick back and forth that jolts me into hyper arousal, and I groan. This isn’t going to take long. I’ve been without a man for nearly nine months, and my body is practically demanding release.

“Let me look at you,” he rasps.

I lift my body, gazing down at him, and he takes over, thrusting up and in steadily. His eyes never leave mine and I’m completely mesmerized, watching the muscles in his abdomen tighten every time he moves. Deeper and harder, until I can’t breathe or think or do anything but let him.

I stiffen, gasping as my orgasm takes me by surprise, and his fingers dig into my hips.

“Fuck, Stevie!” His voice is a cross between a growl and a hiss, pumping into me hard and fast as he gets off.

“Oh shit—yes!” I clamp down around him, riding wave after wave of pleasure before I collapse against him.

His arms close around me and I sink into his warmth.

“Wow,” I whisper.

“Right?” He chuckles. “That didn’t suck.”

“Nope. We may have to do that again.”

“I whole-heartedly agree.” I’ve never felt so satisfied in the aftermath of sex before. And it has a lot more to do with the man beneath me than the epic orgasm I just had.

“I think—” I’m cut-off mid-sentence by a familiar voice.

“We’re ba-ack! Whatcha doin’, girlfriend!” Chey throws open the door to the bedroom and comes walking in.

Chapter21

Marty

It takesa second for it to register that someone has just walked in on us, but I’m quick to grab the blanket and yank it around us as best I can since we’re on top of the covers.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, guys!” Chey lets out a squeak, steps back out, and closes the door behind her. We can hear her laughter fade as she walks away, and Stevie snickers too.

“Leave it to Chey.”

“It’s like we are never, ever truly alone,” I mumble, though I’m chuckling too. I’m not overly shy, and with Stevie on top of me, her back to the door, there wasn’t a whole lot for Chey to see. Not that there’s any doubt about what we were doing since I’m still balls-deep inside of her.

“We’ll figure it out,” she says, starting to pull away and roll over.

I hate losing the closeness we’ve just shared—the intimacy—but she doesn’t go far. She simply curls into my side and rests her head in the crook of my shoulder.

“That what you want, Stevie?” I ask quietly. “For us to figure things out? I understand if it was a one-off. It’s kind of been building between us for a while now. But I know my life is hella complicated right now.”

I feel her stiffen a little. “Is that what you think?” she asks, her voice filled with confusion. “That this was some kind of…one-off?”

“It’s not what I think or what I want,” I say carefully, “but I understand a woman like you can have almost anyone. Why would you want to take on the chaos of my life? My custody battle is going to be heating up soon, and I have three kids, which means a lot less time together once my mom leaves.”

“I knew all that before we did this,” she says. “If it were an issue, we wouldn’t be here. What makes you think that?”

Until now, I haven’t allowed myself to believe this could be more than either something short-term or a friends-with-benefits thing.

“Let’s be honest,” I say, making sure to hold her close. “You’re one of the top models in the world—not to mention one of the most beautiful. You truly could have anyone, and I’m not much of a catch. I’m thirty-two, in the middle of a divorce, with three kids who may or may not be living with me starting in October.

“If my wife gets custody, I’m probably going to owe her a fuck-ton of money in alimony and child support, so even though I make good money, that will take a chunk out of it. If I get custody, I’m going to be a full-time dadanda full-time hockey player, which you know is more than a full-time job sometimes, which means I’ll have very little time for you. And if I’m honest, I’m sure I’m fifty-percent responsible for the demise of my marriage, so I don’t know how good of a boyfriend I would be.”

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