Page 77 of Played
His words—words I’m not 100 percent sure he meant to utter—and the steady, merciless thrusts of his fingers propel me faster and harder to a release that has tiny wings of anxiety fluttering against my stomach. But when he strokes inside one more time, his palm grinding against my clit and his fingertips rubbing over a place sometimes even my vibrator has a time reaching, I shatter. I come so hard and long, I sag against his chest, clutching at him, my breath hot, serrated puffs over my throat.
“Goddamn, that was hot as fuck.You’rehot as fuck and so damn beautiful, I’ll never get tired of seeing you come for me.” As he praises me, he rips at his pants, jerking them open and freeing his dick. Then hikes me in the air, urging my still-shaking legs around his waist, and walks across the bathroom, not stopping until my back hits the wall. “Now my turn. Open up for me and take your man, Dina.”
Take your man.
My already labored breath snags in my throat at that guttural command. Even as he works his dick inside me, I’m still reeling.
Does he mean it? Did he mean to say that?
My heart does this traitorous and hopeful leap, and only when he buries his dick fully inside me, sparking off that too-full, too-much-pressure sensation do I drag myself out of my head ... and into my pussy.
“I’ve missed this. Fuck, I’ve missed this. This pussy. This heat. This good, wet shit,” he mutters against the base of my throat where his lips are pressed.
I don’t need to ask whatthisis, as his hands and weight prop me up and he withdraws, then surges forward, circling and grinding his hips so the base of his cock caresses my clit. My arms wind around his head, fingernails scraping his scalp, tunneling through his hair, grabbing onto any part of him I can as he turns me out.
My pussy is stretched, branded, and my mouth opens against his temple. But not to complain. No, I whisper nonsensical shit in his ear. Telling him how good he feels. How he owns this pussy. How this pussy curves to just his dick. And by the pounding my flesh takes as he slams up into me over and over, I know he hears me. And it affects him.
Long, hard thrusts rock though me, and I open myself as wide as I can in this position, taking each drive, each stroke. The symphony of sex echoes off the walls of the bathroom, and I never want this to end. But as his wide, bulbous tip continually hits a spot high up inside me, I hold on tighter. I’m not going to last much longer.
“Solomon.” I gasp, feeling a pressure low in my belly, low in my sex. “I ... I ...”
Can’t finish a sentence or take a breath, that’s what. And I don’t ever have to in life, just as long as he keeps fucking me. God, I don’t want him to stop.
“Get there, Dina,” he snarls, his hips snapping against me, his dick filling me over and over. “Get there, goddammit.”
On a keening wail, I throw my head back, and I erupt. All over him. Over us. He grips my shuddering body tighter, his fingers digging into the flesh of my ass as he holds me still and pounds away, chasing his own nut, throwing me higher into my own.
The next scream clawing from me is soundless, my lips parting, but the sound is trapped in my tight throat. His grunts and low growl fill the space along with slapping skin as he jerks inside me, once, twice, then bathes my walls with his cum.
For long, long moments we cling to one another, like shipwreck victims. Maybe we are. Tossed and broken by lust and ...
I burrow my face in the nook between his shoulder and neck, unwilling to even mentally finish that thought. I can’t. Though, God, I want to. Am terrified to.
“Let’s go home,” he rasps, and I nod.
Home.
I won’t ask where that is. If he means my place or his.
All that matters is I’m going to follow.
Chapter Fifteen
SOLOMON
I open the door to Nate’s office and step in, my gaze going to his administrative assistant. The elegant older woman has been with Nate as long as I’ve been a member of the team. She smiles, her dark eyes welcoming behind her glasses.
“Hey, Solomon. How’re you doing today?”
“Good, Maev. Is Nate busy? He sent a message for me to come by and see him.”
“No, you can go right in.”
“Thanks.”
Nodding at her, I stride past her desk and up to the large double doors bearing Nate’s name in gold lettering. After rapping on the gleaming wood, I wait until his voice rings out. I turn the brass knob, open the door, and enter his spacious office.
It’s been a minute since I’ve been up here; I see my father-in-law all the time when I’m dropping Khalil off at his home or picking him up. Or when they invite me over for family dinners. Which is why when the same woman who came to find me weeks ago with a message about Adina approached me again with a summons to Nate’s office, I was curious and a little confused. Still am. Whatever he has to tell me must be important if he can’t wait until later, when he’s home.
