Page 62 of Playing to Win

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With my hair still wet from showering, I knock on Izzy’s door. “One sec,” she calls. I smell meat cooking, sensitized to it like a wild beast, and decide she must be making her own dinner tonight. I don’t have time to be disappointed before she is standing in front of me. Her hair is also wet, and she’s wearing a white shirt. Only a white shirt.

She looks from me to the guitar in my hand. “What’s that?”

“You asked to hear me play and you said you were bored.” She reaches out to take the six-string acoustic from me. “Ah-ah. That’s for me. First, I’m going to cure your boredom.” I step inside and set the guitar against the wall, wasting no time before picking her up and wrapping her naked legs around me.

She kicks the door closed, kissing me back as frantically as I’m kissing her. The urgency, the overwhelming need I felt last night, comes back to me. I walk us into the living room.

“Wait, wait. I’m cooking.”

My mouth locked on hers, I carry her into the kitchen. She turns off the gas under the frying pan. I start walking us away.

“No, no, the oven is on too.”

I pull back from her and raise a brow; she just giggles. I like that I can do that to her. She fiddles with the oven knobs and, finally, I get her to the sofa.

I bring her down in my lap, her legs straddling mine, and grip her hair, pulling her to me. As I slip my tongue into her mouth and feel her chest pressed to mine, I know Sarah was right. I just need to go with it.

I’m already hard before she starts rolling her hips against my crotch. I run my thumbs down her neck and she rocks her head back, giving me access to her soft skin.

“You seemed distant today,” she says, breathlessly. “I wasn’t sure this was in the cards.”

“I was thinking, that’s all.”

“Dangerous. What did you think about?”

“I decided we should think less and kiss more.” She smiles and presses her lips to mine for a lingering, torturous kiss.

I flip us so she’s sitting on the sofa and I kneel between her legs, bringing her feet to my shoulders. “I thought about tasting you again, a lot.”

She whimpers when I lick her clit, and she opens her legs wider.

“You look so fucking hot like this.” I unbutton her shirt to give myself access to her breasts. As I take the tip of one between my teeth, she makes quick work of freeing me from my jeans. I can’t even wait for her to remove them. I let her push them down as far as my thighs and drag her to the edge of the sofa. I cover up my member quickly, her eyes on me the entire time.

I push into her all at once and feel her like a plug to a socket, filling me with electricity. As she comes around me, quickly, violently, my own pleasure courses through my body. Every bit of strength, desire, and power inside me rushes to my dick. Hearing her pant my name is the final match to my fuel, and I explode.

She flops back into the sofa and brings me to her chest. I wrap my arms around her, wondering how I could have ever lived without this. Without ever knowing how intense sex could be. Not with anyone, not ever, has it felt so all-consuming.

If I were a religious man, I would curse God right now. Why send this incredible feeling to me in the form of an antagonizing, self-righteous, amazing woman?

We lie together until our breathing calms and my heart stops racing. For a fit guy, my recovery time after going a round with Izzy is pathetic.

She strokes her fingers through my hair and I think for a second I might never move, but I do need to get rid of this condom. I stand and bring her with me, carrying her like a monkey. She laughs as I struggle to walk while holding her and trying to keep my jeans from falling around my ankles. In the bathroom, I set her down on the vanity unit, discreetly trash the condom, and set the shower running.

As steam fills the room, we undress each other and I lead her into the shower by the hand. We wash each other, her hands like a warm blanket folding around me as she touches every inch of my skin.

“You never did tell me about this tattoo,” she says. I don’t have to open my eyes to know she’s talking about Alice in Wonderland.

It’s the opportune moment to tell her, or at least give her something. Mention Alice, drop in Cady. But I don’t because I haven’t got this all straight in my own head yet and right now, I just want to be uncomplicated Brooks who can simply enjoy this woman touching him.

“A guy called Crazy Joe from Brooklyn gave it to me. It was my first tattoo. Before I really thought about how they would all look together. He was an old veteran who went mad. When he died, he left me some money—not a lot—and said in his will that I was to open my own gym.”

“Wow, and that’s where it all started?”

“Yep. Why don’t you tell me about the tiny love heart I’ve noticed on your hip bone?”

“It’s pitiful really, isn’t it?” She looks down at the solid inked heart, which can’t be bigger than a thumbnail. “I wanted to defy my parents but didn’t really want a tattoo. I wanted to do just enough to tick them off but didn’t dare go further.”

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