Page 61 of Biggest Player
Dex reaches forward, his big hands unfolding my arms and holding them out so he can look at me. “What the hell are you talking about? Look at these boobs. They’re amazing.”
I feel myself blushing despite the fact that I’m cold.
“Aw, gosh. I’m flattered you th-think so,” I stutter. It’s been ages since a grown man has blatantly gawked at my tits, T-shirt impeding his view or not.
“You’re the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, all soaked to the skin and dripping wet.”
I’ll never forget the way he saidand dripping wet ...
Dumbly, I nod.
Let him walk me backward until my ass bumps the cabinets.
His hands on my hips—I have no protest, only curiosity. What’s he going to do with me once he has me where he wants me?
Chapter 13
Dex
I have her where I want her.
The best part is, she’s already dripping wet.
Not for me, but still.
Wet is wet.
I put my mouth on the side of her neck, inhaling that perfume I like so much, its musky scent mingling with her damp skin, and when I put my lips there, she tilts her neck.
Margot is shorter than I am—who isn’t?
I have to bend a bit at the knees to accommodate her, or better yet, why don’t I lift her onto the counter to make things easier?
Damn good idea, Dex.
I do what I’ve been wanting to do since she sassed me in the restaurant—I kiss her on her pouty mouth, savoring the surprise and the hands that are now sliding up my spine.
Margot tastes delicious.
She doesn’t hold back either. No hesitation, no shy bone.
I move so I’m standing between her legs, pressing against her and the cabinet front, dick straining to say hello to her. He’s eager to play—as usual.
Ignoring the mess that is being made, we kiss—and damned if I don’t begin exploring the wet T-shirt clinging so seductively to Margot’s body, her boobs now in my palms.
Yes, both of them.
It’s electric, a kiss that makes me forget the chaos around us and the giant mess I made because I was trying to look cool.
Margot doesn’t seem to give a shit, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away, her fingers tangling in my mussed-up hair, her soft lips warm. It’s a contrast to the cold water dripping from my hair. Hers. The sink.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
It feels like we’re in our own bubble, untouchable and invincible, lost in each other, and I swear, I could eat her up.
