Page 62 of Played
But that’s just it, isn’t it? I’ve been justexisting. Going to work, spending time with family and Noni, then returning to an empty home. Alone. I’m so tired ofalone. When I consider that, the choice isn’t so cut and dried.
I want to be the first person whose hands you put your body and trust into since your fiancé. Ineedto be that person. You gave me the first kiss, and I want the rest. I wantyou.
I want him too. With a hunger that’s unwise and probably unhealthy.
“D should be pull—”
“I don’t want to go,” I blurt out. Did I consciously intend to say that? No. Am I taking it back?
No.
He doesn’t immediately reply, and that beat of silence is just long enough for fingers of doubt to drum down my spine.
“If you’ve changed your—” I stutter, but his narrowed glare and words cut me off.
“Shut up.” He stalks forward, eating up the few feet separating us, not stopping until he’s all up in my space. His breath that smells and tastes of the beer he just drank brushes my face, and his dick once more nudges me. A whole-body shiver runs through me, and lust is right on its heels, flooding me, setting my wholebeingon fire. “Don’t even finishthat bullshit you’re about to say.” He mugs me, and moisture drips out of me at the sight of it. “What I am is mad as fuck right now.”
“Why?” I frown.
“Because you’re leaving me with only an hour and a half before I have to leave and pick my son up. That’s not nearly enough time to fuck your life up like I want to.”
He’s not bragging or lying. I haven’t even had the dick yet, and I know with complete certainty that sex with him will be life changing.
I hike a shoulder in a half shrug as disappointment pinches behind my rib cage. “We can wait until later. That’s not—”
Solomon interrupts me again, this time physically shutting me up with a long finger pressed to my lips.
“I’ve fucked you a hundred different ways in my heads since you stepped out of my car. Twisted this badass body up in as many positions. No way in hell I’m letting you walk out that door without me tasting and beating up this pussy.”
He punctuatesthis pussyby cupping me between my legs.
“Holy shit.”
My knees buckle, and a shocked cry escapes me. Oh my God, the pleasure—knife sharp, bright, and almost painful—spears me, and I’m no match for it. The heel of his palm presses against my clit, and the tips of his fingers unerringly locate the entrance to my sex, slightly pushing into it. My leggings are no protection against his touch or the pleasure threatening to choke me out. I can’t brace myself against it—don’t want to. Incredibly, the electric tingling behind my clit heralds the oncoming of an orgasm.
It’s been a long time, butdamn.
“So if that’s not what you want, say it now.”
Say? As in talk? My brain isn’t capable of forming complete sentences with his uncompromising grip on my pussy. Actually speaking? Yeah, not possible.
“Adina?”
He starts to pull his arm back and, panicked, I reach down between us and grab his wrist with both hands, holding him. Right. There.
“Yes.”
He cocks his head, his hooded gaze sensual, determined.
“Yes, what?”
Okay, so he’s really serious. Consent is sexy, no doubt, but the ironclad grip I have on his wrist should be answer enough. But since he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, I guess not.
My impatient huff emerges sounding more like a desperate whimper, but I can’t find it in me to care.
“Yes. Taste me. Slide up in me. Fuck. Me.” I pause, briefly closing my eyes. “Please.”
“Goddamn you, girl,” he mutters harshly, but the crush of his mouth on mine not a second later eliminates the harshness from those words.
