Page 101 of Playing Pretend

“I bet you would’ve loved taking my virginity,” I taunt. “All those kinks of yours would’ve had a field day with a young virgin.”

“It’s enough that I was the first guy to make you orgasm.” He releases my wrists to grab the front of my panties, savagely ripping the lace crotch. “I hope you weren’t fond of those. But I plan to buy you a whole wardrobe full of pretty little things as soon as we catch our breath.”

My nipples bead against my bra. “I could’ve taken them off.”

“I want to fuck you with them on.” He bites the condom packet, spits the foil to the coverings, then sheaths himself. “I’m unwrapping my gift slowly. One delectable layer at a time.”

He slides on top of me, laying his weight against mine and whispering in my ear, “I also know you’re nervous and don’t want to push my luck. I’ll see you naked soon enough.”

Every inch of me fills with gratitude.

He’s so good to me.

So intuitive.

“I love you, Rome.” My heart aches with the truth of those words. “I love you so much it hurts.” I wrap an arm around his neck and drag his lips to mine. “Please kiss me.”

“Fuck, I love when you beg.” His mouth finds mine, fast and obsessive.

I kiss him like he’s my salvation, giving him my heart and soul through the contact.

Our tongues dance in perfect rhythm, the teasing strokes turning into a rabid tangle while he grinds into me, his erection nestled against the torn lace of my panties.

“I want to feel you,” I whisper against his lips. “I’m ready.”

He meets my eyes, his weight resting on one arm. He doesn’t ask if I’m sure. Doesn’t question my sincerity. He merely looks at me, knowing me well enough to see my truth.

He keeps staring at me as he tilts his hips, the length of his shaft sliding along my sex. He does it again and again, each stroke pivoting his position until the head of his cock is nestled at my opening.

Anticipation has me by the ovaries. I’m deliriously wet. Excessively ready for him and he knows it. “Please.”

He groans at my plea and sinks home. Stretching me.

My muscles protest, his girth spreading me wider than I’m used to. But it’s good. So painfully, exquisitely perfect.

I rock into him, greedy for more, raising my legs to circle his hips.

“Jesus.” He clasps my thigh, holding it in place as he continues a slow, sweet rhythm. “You’re phenomenal.”

With his next glide home, I clamp my core tighter around him and dig my nails into his shoulders.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Are you trying to make this end prematurely?”

There’s nothing premature about an act that has been years in the making. I’m already close again. It’s crazy after the struggles I endured with other men, but Rome makes me hot without effort.

“I want to feel you come.” The words leave my mouth without thought, the shock of embarrassment taking two seconds to hit.

He moans and releases my thigh to grab my chin. “Say it again.”

I blush everywhere. Cheeks. Neck. Chest. The heat is all consuming, yet the pleasure outweighs it all as he rocks harder into me, faster, the look in his eyes feral.

“I…” I can’t form the words, not again.

“Say it, Piper.” He grinds into me, vicious thrusts that leave me panting. “Say those dirty words that make my cock fucking throb.”

I swallow, my throat drying, my entire body aching. “I want to feel you come.”

He growls, smashing his mouth to my neck. He fucks me harder as he devours the sensitive skin, kissing, sucking, biting while his hand lowers to caress my breast.

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