Page 52 of The Player in New Zealand
“She just proved my point,” I said as the elevator opened into the hallway. “She thinks you’re a hottie too.”
I stopped in front of our hotel room door, the first one on the right. Instead of pulling out the card and unlocking the door, Tane stepped closer to me, crowding me into the doorframe, an echo of the night before. “She doesn’t push my buttons like you do,” he said, voice low and eyes hooded.
“I can push buttons,” I agreed, whispering the words against his lips as they brushed over mine.
Tane’s mouth slanted and I opened to him, allowing his tongue in on a gasp. I let my bag drop to the floor as his big arms came around me, pressing me into his body and lifting me up to his level. Tane’s kisses were perfect, just the right amount of tongue for us to tangle, but backing off in time for me to get ragged inhales when I needed them. He nipped my lip, then dropped his hands down to my ass and gave a good squeeze, hiking me up around his waist.
“Let’s get inside,” he said, pulling back to fumble with the key card. “And then you can show me how to push your buttons.”
I laughed as the door opened and I clung to him while he kicked our bags inside the door. He grunted when I nibbled his lip a little harder and we tumbled down onto the bed, Tane catching himself on his palms while I flopped off him.
We toed off our shoes, crawling up to the headboard, and I tugged the hotel comforter down underneath me and kicked it farther off the bed. Tane let it fall to the floor.
“So you don’t like using hands,” he said between kisses, letting his fingers graze up the inside of my shirt.
“I do like hands,” I amended. “They just don’t get me off.”
Tane tugged me up to sitting, straddling him, so he could pull my T-shirt off. He paused, his eyes roaming my skin. The majority of my tattoos could be covered by shirts; the half sleeve on my right arm peeked out from under short sleeves and, of course, there was the icosahedron on the back of my neck. But the half sleeve grew roots on my chest—literally. Vines and roots in a woodblock print twined out from my arm onto my chest and back.
I followed Tane’s gaze down to my first tattoo, a tribal band that curved over my ribs. I had gotten it at seventeen, thinking it was so cool. It wasn’t long before I was cringing looking at it. It hadn’t been good to start, and it hadn’t aged well. But now, after having seen Tane’s—and everyone else’s—intricate and detailed tattoos, I really wished I didn’t have it.
I stretched to the side, looking down at the dark blocks that stood out against my pale skin. “It’s a shitty tattoo, isn’t it?” I tried to laugh, but my attempt fell flat.
“It’s simple,” Tane said diplomatically. “But I like seeing it on your skin.” He ran a thumb along the outline, trailing up from my side to just below my breast, and I shivered. That thumb then skimmed between my breasts, over the thin strip of material of my bra in the middle and up to where one of the vines dipped onto my breastbone.
Then he brought his head down, kissing that same spot and trailing the tip of his tongue up the vine. On either side of his body, my thighs squeezed.
“Do you like being eaten?” he asked, his hot breath skating over my shoulder.
“Oh fuck” was the only answer I gave, and he pushed back onto his knees between my legs while he unbuttoned my jeans and hooked them and my underwear together and tugged them off. A rough hand wrapped around my ankle and pulled me down the bed. I looked up just in time to see Tane’s mouth open, his tongue flat and applied directly between my legs.
I bucked my hips off the bed, but Tane pinned me with one of his beefy arms and devoted himself to licking and sucking me. Minutes later I tensed up, my mouth opening in a silent gasp as I came on his tongue.
I closed my eyes as Tane disappeared. A condom wrapper crinkled, and when I opened my eyes again, he was back. “Legs up now?” he asked.
“We might need a towel,” I said, eying his sheathed cock. It fit his body nicely, a little curve and a thick head. “And a little warm-up first.”
Tane disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a towel that he folded up and slid under my hips. Then he was on his knees, guiding himself toward me. I spread my legs farther, opening up for his hips and thighs.
There was pressure and give, and then he was inside me. He was slow and careful, watching my face and gently rocking until my ass was nestled into the cradle of his hips. Then he looked down, dark eyes wide and hot.
I looked down too, following the trail of tattoos and flesh to where we met. Tane pulled completely out and back in. Then again. I felt my wetness spreading, each thrust getting slicker than the last.
“Okay, now you can put my legs up.”
He gave me a wicked grin and shifted back, hooking his arms under my legs. I shifted too, settling my ankles onto his shoulders. His hands came to my hip bones, gripping me and giving him leverage.
“Like this?”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding.
He leaned forward, making eye contact. “You told me you wanted it hard. ‘Bent in half and fucked hard’ you said.”
I nodded, my breath coming out in a whisper, the anticipation so high and tight inside me.
Without warning, Tane pulled out and slammed back in. The pleasure made my eyes lose focus and I cried out when he did it again and again and again. He leaned into me, stretching my legs and hitting me deeper. “Oh God, right there,” I babbled.
Two strokes later I came, my eyelids, my knees, my thighs, myovariesclenching together. Tane stilled and, despite not being able to see him, I felt his attention, the press of his lips on my calf.
