Page 47 of Played
I love sex ... from the pleasure and the connection to the weight of a man on top of me. I loved the quiet moments afterward, where the sweat is drying and our hearts are calming as we’re tangled up in each other.
I’m picturing that shit in my head, and it’s not abstract or impressionist art. It’s detailed, photographically clear, and anatomically correct.
“I can promise you this, li’l mama.” I lift a hand, curl it around the front of her throat, my thumb grazing the bottom of her jawbone. She doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t move. Nah, that’s not right. It’s slight, subtle, but she arches into my palm and, narrowing my eyes on her, I act on instinct and tighten my grip. Still no sound—no protest, no gasp.But she fists my sweater at my waist and those long, thick lashes flutter. Goddamn. Lust roars through me louder than that horn on the fire truck. I bite my bottom lip as my dick throbs, demanding to feel this woman in every which way she’d let it. And shit, I can think of a fuck-ton of ways. “When I’m around you, the last thing I feel isnothing.”
Taking a further risk, I press my luck and press my body against the curvy length of hers. She tips her head back, and I take a beat, scrutinizing that face. That stunning and absolutely beautiful face.
The sudden need to see it twisted in orgasm slams into me. To see it flushed with pleasure. To see it covered in my nut.
Fuck, the filthy things I want to do to her. The dirty things I want her to acquiesce to letting me do to her.
Instead of backing away—because the smart thing would be to back all the way up—I inch closer, press harder against her. My dick pokes her soft belly this time, not her back. Those full, firm breasts pillow against my chest, and those thick thighs brush mine. She’s nearly a foot shorter than my six feet, four inches, and our height difference hasn’t been more apparent as I bow my head over hers and sink my teeth into her plump lower lip. That muthafucka is like the damn Bat-Signal, urging me to come and take it, suck on it, slide my dick over it.
It’s scary how much I want to tear li’l mama up.
Her rushed pants of breath bathe my lips as I swipe my tongue over the flesh still captured between my teeth. I release her only to treat her top to the same treatment. A groan rips up and out of me. That flavor—that hit of smoky whiskey and heavy sweet cream—hits my tongue, and a hunger pang twists my stomach so tight I damn near flinch from that need, that pain. When you sometimes go to bed with a growling stomach when growing up, you vow to never be hungry again. Now is no different. I’m starving, and she’s that second helping I was once denied. No way in hell I’m stepping away from her unsatisfied.
Common sense tries to infiltrate this crimson-tinted haze wrapped around my brain. Tries to warn me that hemming her up by the neck and fucking her mouth in front of the fire station when her brother,who already can’t stand me, is just yards away isn’t a good look. Tries to remind me that this kiss will be much harder to walk away from than the first.
Yeah, I don’t give a fuck about none of that.
Cocking my head, I give her top lip one last lick, then slip into her mouth, reacquainting myself with the taste, texture, essence of her. I wasn’t lying about the potency of her flavor. My head is swimming at the first tangle of our tongues. And when I suck on it, each pull echoes in my dick. I grind my pounding, hard-as-steel length against her belly, and though I grunt at the pressure, it’s not enough. Only lifting her, shoving her back against that fire truck feet away, ripping away these ugly uniform pants and beating up this pussy will be enough. And I wouldn’t bet my autographed Grant Fuhr hockey stick on that.
My hand tightens just a little bit around her throat, and her groan vibrates against my palm. That, too, I feel up and down my dick. Shit, she’s a menace. The worst thing she could’ve done was let me know she’s not running from me. Stroking the roof of her mouth, I praise her with a squeeze of her hip.
I lift my head, but rising on her toes, she follows me. This time, she bites me, leaving behind a sting at the corner of my mouth. The tiny flare of pain has me returning to her for another hard, wild kiss of tongue, teeth, and groans.
“Ahem.”
Fuck.
What common sense couldn’t do, the light clearing of a throat accomplishes. That sound penetrates most of the lust clouding my brain, and I jerk my head up. The afternoon breeze brushes over my face, bringing swift attention to my wet, swollen mouth.
My initial, primal reaction is to drop my hands away from Adina and shove as much distance as possible between us. I even stiffen in preparation of doing just that. But at the last moment, I remember how I fucked up the first time we kissed. How, in my panic, I hurt her. Only that keeps me in place. I drop my hands from her body but onlyafter giving her throat and hip one last squeeze. And when I step away, it’s to the side of her, my shoulder grazing hers.
She shivers, and it ripples through me. A fierce, ill-placed gratification courses through me. That shudder wasn’t because of the wind; that was pure me.
“Hi, Daddy.” Wide-eyed, Khalil looks from me to Adina and back to me like he’s watching one of his video games. “Why’re you kissing Ms. Dina? I thought you said she wasn’t your girlfriend.”
“Oh, this oughtta be good,” Jared muttered, humor lighting his eyes.
“She’s not, li’l man,” I say, not looking at Adina. “I was just telling her bye.”
His face scrunches. “You don’t tell Grandad or Grammy bye like that. You just hug them or do this.” He jerks his chin up in a fair imitation of me.
Jared breaks into a coughing fit, but he can’t hide his grin behind the fist raised to his mouth. Beside me, Adina softly snickers. I notice she doesn’t try to help me out, though.
“You ready to hit the museum?” I ask, not answering his question. Because again, my answer isn’t age appropriate.
“Yeah!” He pumps a fist, successfully distracted. Thank fuck. “Bye, Mr. Jared! I’ll see you at the game! Daddy”—he swings his attention back to me, grinning big—“Mr. Jared is coming to your next game, an’ he’s bringing Ms. Dina with him. Isn’t that cool?”
“I think that’s pretty cool that she’s going to a game,” I murmur, glancing at her.
“Um,” she hedges.
I chuckle, and yeah, it’s at her expense. And hell no, I’m not stepping in to bail her out. Payback really is a mufucka. And sometimes it’s fast as one too.
“Don’t worry about using your extra ticket, Jared,” I say to the other man. “I’ll leave two more at will call.”
