Page 113 of Playing Dirty
His gaze flashes up to my eyes as he rips open a foil packet with his teeth, and I can’t hide my grin when I spot it.
“I taught you well,” I note.
“Not the time to get cocky.”
There’s a defiant glint in his eyes while he squirts the lube over his shaft before tucking the packet back in his jeans. He coats himself with a few slow tugs before smearing the excess liquid up and down my crease, then swirling it over my rim. A finger breaches me, followed by a second, and it drags another moan from me.
I’m about to tell him I don’t need to be prepped, but thankfully, he pulls his fingers free after only a few seconds, replacing them with the head of his cock.
“Sure about this?” he asks, and I quickly nod.
I’m brimming with anticipation as his hips press forward, the head of his cock pushing past the tight ring of muscle. It’s a welcome intrusion, feeling my body give way for him until he’s sliding home. One I know I’ll never get sick of, no matter how many times I experience it.
He’s fully seated inside me after only two thrusts, his pelvis pressing flush against my ass. His forehead drops to the spot between my shoulder blades, and he holds himself there for a few seconds before he starts to move.
“Shit, Mads. You always feel so fucking good. So tight.” He pulls back so only the head is still inside before sliding back in. It elicits a groan from us both before he rasps, “Every time I’m inside you, it just gets better. How is that possible?”
I have no clue, but I’m not gonna question it. I’m just gonna ride the high created from our bodies being joined, wishing like hell we could completely fuse into one.
What started out a slow and steady movement quickly builds in speed, his hips taking shallow, rapid thrusts. The teeth from his zipper bite into my ass cheek every time he impales me to the hilt, and I know there’sbound to be scrape marks there when we’re done.
Which, truthfully, only turns me on more.
“Tell me to stop if—”
“You’re not stopping,” I cut in, glancing over my shoulder. “Not until you come.”
There’s a flash of desire in his eyes before his hold on my hips tightens and he starts thrusting with more force.
“God, that sounds like a dream. Imagining my cum leaking out of you all game. None of your teammates knowing I railed you in this very spot only hours before taking the field. Fuck, just the idea…” He trails off with a groan, holding himself balls deep inside me before pulling back again. “You make me so fucking stupid, Mads. This is so, so stupid.”
He pistons his hips harder, burying himself deeper, on the last few words before quickening his pace again. But despite the comment, he doesn’t stop. Neither of us do. We can’t. We’re both held prisoner to this connection, this inexplicable desire only brought out by the other.
And truth be told, no part of me wants to break free.
My cock feels heavy between my legs, my hand stroking the length with vigor while he fucks me. I can already feel my orgasm building at the base of my spine, the combination of my hand and his cock driving me up the mountain toward release.
“Bend forward,” he commands in a harsh pant. “And give me your hands.”
My balls draw up at the decadent rasp in his order, and I release my cock to hold my hands out behind my back. His own leave my hips to shackle around my wrists, and when I lean forward, the new angle allows him to slide deeper inside me. It draws out a moan from the depths of my chest, coming out grated and full of need, as he continues to pound into me.
I’m leaking like a faucet now, especially when his cock makes a brushover my prostate. It feels phenomenal each time it happens, like little electrical jolts straight to my balls. But I need more.
More pleasure, more pain.
More of him.
Pressing back, I meet him thrust for thrust—fucking him as much as he is me. We move like that together, bringing each other closer and higher to the apex of bliss, neither of us wanting to jump off the edge alone.
“God. That’s it,” I groan. “Go harder. Give me more.”
My teeth sink into my lower lip as he increases his pace, hips snapping into mine at breakneck speeds. I love this side of him. Completely uninhibited, driving into me with reckless abandon.
Gone is the Theo worried about hurting me or being too rough. He’s become perfectly aware of just how much I can take—how much I love it when he pushes me to my limit, the same way I do with him.
He uses his hold as leverage, his hands tightening around my wrists before tugging on them a little more with every thrust. Pain lances through all the joints in my arms thanks to his punishing movements, but it does nothing to stop the desire coiling low in my stomach.
“Careful, baby,” I choke out in warning. “I still need those today.”
