Page 122 of Hate Me Like You Mean It
He let out a shaky breath, his grip on my legs becoming punishing. “Jesus Christ.”
I licked my lips, then dragged a finger over the tip of his shaft, gathering the dripping precum before it could go to waste. Then I stuck out my tongue and licked my finger clean.
My core pulsed at the taste of him. It was like an overly potent aphrodisiac.
He looked like he was going to pass out, and I hadn’t even gotten to the best part yet.
“Sometimes I wouldn’t even make it out of my uniform,” I murmured, going back for more. “Especially after watching one of your games. I’d just lock my door, stuff my face into a pillow, flip up my skirt, and… summon some stars.”
He shut his eyes with a soft curse, head collapsing back against the couch as a low growl fired up his chest.
“Do you still think she’s sluttier than me?” I asked. “Should I keep going?”
It took him a minute to gather enough brain cells and suck in enough oxygen to respond. “She still wins.”
“How? Why?”
His eyes were fire and ink when they met mine. “Because she wouldn’t have sat on my lap, telling me this story like a littlecocktease. She would’ve gotten on the bed, spread her legs, and shown me.”
A thrill swept through me, sending tremors down my limbs. “New game,” I decided, “Roleplay. Whoever’s imagination outsluts the other wins. ‘Tapping out’ makes the game stop. No actual fucking or getting yourself off until the one person has admitted defeat; otherwise, the game would never end.”
It was psychological warfare with only one objective: use your imagination to push the other person so close to the edge that they feel like they might die if they didn’t get off.
His grin was as excited as it was sinister. “What do we get if we win?”
I slipped my hands up his bare chest and leaned closer. “If you win, I’ll agree to the butler thing. If I win, you’ll admit I’m sluttier and make a list of everything you’ve ever done with her—ortoher. We’ll work through it, one by one, so you can see just how much better I am than her.”
His tongue darted out of his mouth as he gripped his length. “And if it’s a tie?”
“We do both.” Then I leaned in, nipping at the shell of his ear. “Do your worst, Crawford. Touch me in every inappropriate way you can think of.”
He bit. “Go to your room; do what you need to do. I’m giving you five minutes to be ready and on the bed.”
Excitement burst in my chest, and I actually giggled as I shoved off him and ran into my bedroom.
38
Dominic
I couldn’t believe my fucking luck.
Somehow, someway, I’d duped the girl of my dreams to play a game with me in which her sole objective was to prove to my undeserving, simping ass that she could “outslut” my imagination.
Alice Cloutier was on the other side of that door, getting ready to prove to me that she was, in fact, a massive slut.
I didn’t even give a fuck if I won this one.
In fact, I hoped to god I didn’t.
I had one objective, and one objective only: make it to the end of the game without passing out or going into cardiac arrest.
Checking my watch again, I palmed the leaking bulge straining my slacks and sucked in a long, deep breath. I didn’t know what role she had in mind for herself, but I’d figured it would be easier to adapt if I were fully dressed. Not to mention, I’d needed to keep my hands busy while I trudged through the longest five minutes of my life.
Beep beep beep beep.
My pulse jumped to my throat.
I reached for the textured, bronze door handle, tracing the design with my thumb, my blood humming with fiery anticipation. One last deep breath, and I stepped inside.
