Page 112 of Scoring the Player
“Girlfriend.” He punctuates the word with a searing kiss, then his free hand slides beneath my stomach and lifts me onto my knees and elbows.
With my hair still wrapped around one hand, he pulls me back onto his dick.
All the air is knocked from my lungs as he fills me so completely, and I know I’ll never be the same.
“Still with me?” he asks.
I can’t speak, so I nod. His grip on my hair brings a little pain with the motion. “Yes. You don’t have to worry. I’m good. Don’t hold back. I want the full Felix Walters experience.”
He leans down and bites my shoulder. “You mean the Dahlia Brady effect.”
“I just want you. Whatever that is.”
“Same, babe. Same.” He drops a kiss to the same spot where he bit me a second ago and then continues pushing in and out of me until my limbs are like jelly and I don’t think I can hold myself up.
One of his arms hooks around my stomach, holding me in place. His fingers glide down, and he rubs a slow circle over the sensitive bud.
“Felix,” I pant as I shatter beneath him. And the resounding groan he lets out as he follows makes my heart skip. This sexy, strong man is mine.
He pulls out slowly. The muscles in my core fight to keep him inside me, even as my arms give out and I fall face down onto the bed. He drops next to me and pulls me into him. I don’t know how I can be so tired and so ready to go again at the same time. My hair is knotted and sticking to my face and his chest.
“Ugh. My hair is everywhere.”
He chuckles as he smooths it out of my face. “Sit up for a second.”
“What?”
“Hand me the hair tie around your wrist and sit up. I have a solution.”
Visions of my hair wrapped around Felix’s hand moments ago flash through my mind, but his touch is soft when his fingers brush the long strands back out of my face again.
“O-kay,” I say slowly. I sit and give him the black elastic hair tie.
I feel his fingers work through my hair. My scalp tingles. Who knew that having a guy play with my hair was such a turn-on?
“That feels so good.” I close my eyes and feel my shoulders relax.
I lose track of time as he continues. Eventually, he kisses my neck and says, “All done.”
I run a hand along the back of my head, then swivel around to face him. “You braided my hair?”
He grins.
I get up off the bed and go over to the mirror. Not just a braid. A French braid. “How?” I ask. “Is this some sort of kink?”
His body shakes with silent laughter. “Not that I’m aware of.”
I look at him wide-eyed for an explanation.
“I have two sisters who really liked to do makeovers when we were younger,” he admits with a shrug, looking a little embarrassed. “Now you know my secret talent.”
“I’m impressed.”
“I can do a Dutch braid, too. And I think I remember how to do a fishtail braid, but it’s been a while so don’t hold me to that.”
“I can’t even braid my own hair.”
“Now you don’t need to.” He winks. “Want me to try another?”
