Page 112 of Play Fake
“Seems like something,” he mutters, before he brings his finger up to his mouth. He licks it and gives me a wicked little grin. “Something definitely worth writing a song about.”
“Waylon,” I whisper, my cheeks heating as I stare at the rug on the floor.
“Yeah?”
“You’re killing me.”
“I can fix it,” his voice is rougher now.
“We can turn it off?” I ask hopefully.
“Not yet. First, you’re gonna take those panties off and go sit on the bed.”
“What?”
He walks me several steps back until the backs of my legs hit the edge of the mattress.
“Panties off.” He repeats, his eyes heavy with unmet want.
“Shirt off,” I answer, raising my brow in challenge.
His fingers immediately go to the buttons on his shirt, and he pulls them open one by one until he reaches the bottom. He untucks it and slowly removes the shirt letting it drop to the floor. My tongue runs over my lower lip as I stare at all the skin in front of me. The expanse of tight muscle and tattoos makes me want to lean forward and lick him. Zero self-control with him. I can even understandhergetting aggressive. This man’s body was liable to make any woman aggressive.
He utters a small sound in his throat and my eyes snap back up to his, where I see the expectant look on his face.Right.I reach under my dress and hook my fingers in the lace band, sliding them down my legs and off to the side.
“Good.” His hand slides to the nape of my neck, tugging gently on my hair as he kisses me again.
“Now lay back on the bed and pull your dress up for me,” he breathes the words against my lips after he releases the kiss.
I do as I’m told despite a gut reaction to protest at being put on display because I’ll do anything this man wants right now.
I pull the hem of my dress up slowly, trying to steel my confidence. The room is dark, but there’s still enough light I’ll be completely exposed to him, and his eyes are tracking my every movement. I finally pull it up to my waist, letting my head fall back on the quilt as I look up at him, hoping he’ll take me quick because my body feels so heavy with want for him, I don’t know how much I can take.
He steps between my legs, using his knee to gently nudge mine further apart and then he just stares, his eyes traveling over the length of me, once, twice and then landing between my legs when my nerves kick in.
“Waylon?” I ask, the unease traveling through my tone.
“Hmm,” comes a throaty reply. “Just every time I look at you. I remember how fucking lucky I am. I imagined this so many times and it’s so much fucking better than what I thought it could be. I’ve wanted you so fucking much for so fucking long, Mac.”
I don’t know what to say, so I just give a little smile and lean up on my elbows again, nodding to his pants, “Then get those off and come down here.”
He shakes his head and backs away from me, turning the volume up on the music before he returns and drops down to his knees. I press further up, questioning him silently.
“What—“ I start to ask when he doesn’t answer, but his lips are on the tender skin of my inner thigh, stealing my breath away again. Every spark he ignites a direct hit.
The instrumentals of the song start again, and he smiles against my skin, his eyes traveling back to mine. They’re lit up, looking almost silver in the pale light of the room, and the smirk he gives me sends a shiver up my spine.
“I want you to listen to it. Every single word, while you watch me, see how many times I can make you come against my tongue.”
Then his mouth is on me, giving me a tentative lick that sets every nerve ending on fire so fast I think I might shatter with the next touch. I close my eyes and take a breath, trying to regain my composure.
He is too much for me. Too unreal and every second with him, I think it’s a matter of moments before I wake up from whatever dream I’m having.
He places another whisper-light kiss against me, and I can’t hold back the small moan in my throat. My fingers wrap around the hem of my dress, balling it up in my palm.
“Watch or I’ll stop,” a rough instruction against my skin, before he gives another long stroke of his tongue. I sit up as I’m told and open my eyes because the last thing I want is for him to let me go.
“Good.” He gives me another soft kiss as a reward, and then he slides an arm under each of my thighs, his hands gripping my hips and pulling me down toward him. The muscles on his shoulders and biceps flex with the motion. I do not know what good deed I did to earn Waylon on his knees in front of me like this, but I make a mental note to figure it out so I can repeat it as many times as possible.
