Page 126 of Playing Dirty
And, God, just the thought of him fucking me the way I do him—hard and ruthlessly—has me ready to beg for it.
“Mads, I want more,” I pant, and when I glance back, I find his gaze already waiting for mine.
“Then take what you want, baby. I’m all yours.”
My teeth sink into my cheek as I start moving faster, letting instinct and need drive me. But it’s not enough. Even with Madden’s hips lifting in the tiniest of thrusts every time I drop lower on his length, I still want more. And it’s starting to fray my patience.
“I’m not some fragile thing you’re gonna break,” I tell him, echoing a sentiment he once told me.
Something inside him snaps, as if that’s all he needed to hear before unleashing the side of him I’ve been waiting for: the unabashed and greedy one.
He starts thrusting up into me each time I lower onto him, meeting me halfway, fucking me as much as I’m riding him. There’s nothing gentle about it now; it’s pure lust and desire fueling both our movements.
He sits up, one hand gripping my waist harder while the other slides around my chest until it rests at the base of my throat. It’s the sexiest, most possessive move in his arsenal, and I turn to putty for it every goddamn time. But especially when it’s paired with the filthy praises falling from his lips.
Fuck yes, baby.
So fucking perfect.
So fuckingmine.
The last one nearly has me coming undone, because I’ve never believed anything to be more true. Every piece of me—mind, body, and soul—belongs to Madden Hastings.
And fuck, if he doesn’t belong to me too.
Soft pants and sighs fill the air around us, creating a chorus with the slick sound of our bodies crashing into one another. Every time the head swipes over my prostate, I have to turn my face into my bicep and clamp my teeth down on my shirt to refrain from moaning like a porn star.
“I’m close, Mads.”
He hums. “Then come for me. Let me feel you clamp around my cock.”
His grip flexes at the base of my throat, arm tightening over my chest as his thrusts become punishingly vigorous. He snaps his hips up into me like he’s trying to split me in half from the inside out, and it’s the most torturous kind of pleasure, drawing moans and whimpers from the back of my throat while I struggle to stay quiet.
My hand is moving over my length at hyperspeed now, my eyes squeezed shut as I feel every part of my body being lit ablaze. Every nerve ending is buzzing with electricity, especially the one he keeps swiping overwith the head of his cock. Over and over and over again, he pegs that little pleasure button until I can’t hold on any longer.
My climax slams into me like a sledgehammer, and Madden’s hand covers my mouth just in time to stop me from shouting out. I bear down on his cock, cum shooting from my own, coating my fingers and spilling onto the carpet beneath my feet. He doesn’t stop, though, thrusting into me with reckless abandon until I’m wrung dry and slumping against him, unable to keep my weight up any longer.
His hand falls away from my mouth, returning to my hips as he chases his own release, using my body for his pleasure. And all the while, my fingertips trace a languid path to his neck before turning my head to find his lips.
We move together like that; a volatile explosion and innocent caresses all in one. A collision of two things that don’t belong together yet somehow fit perfectly. As if they were the only piece capable of filling the space the other was missing.
It’s the only way I can describe this all-consuming desire searing me to the bone—turning me to a pile of ash on the spot. It goes as far as burning the rest of the world away until all that’s left is me, and him, and this, and us.
And as he comes, flooding me with his release and claiming me for the first time, I want nothing more than to bask in the flames.
The two of us clean up my mess as best we can after redressing and straightening our clothes in record time. My pulse thrums beneath my skin, beating a mile a minute as I still come down from the high, both of the orgasm, but also the thrill of what we just did.
“You forgot something,” Madden says, cutting through my blissed-out state.
I frown, scanning the ground for anything I might’ve dropped while we were busy screwing around like two sex-crazed idiots. But then I look up to find Madden leaning against the wall next to the Blackmore pennant, pinching the edge of the fabric between his thumb and index finger.
Earlier, he’d told me it was mine, and while I took it at face value in the moment, something still feels off about it now. Not that I think he’s lying; I can tell by his expression right now, he meant it.
It just doesn’t feel right to accept it.
“But what about the rules?” I ask slowly, hoping it might be enough for him to rescind his offer.
Because I’m not just talking about the Penny Play rules, but the ruleswemade. The one where we said we weren’t getting involved, because it wasn’t worth risking what’s happening between us. The line we put in place that…I’m already guilty of obliterating.
