Page 17 of King of Players

Of all the men revolving in my universe, did Chadwick Niles have to be the one to have that effect on me?

It hardly seemed fair.

In disbelief, I watched him undo the first three buttons of his shirt, parting the edges as if to reveal his chest hairs to me. He was beginning to act like one of those models during a shoot; moving slowly for the camera to capture whatever pose it liked. It could have all been in my head, since he finally shifted in his seat, took a sip of wine and said, “You’re not still trying to figure me out, are you?”

“To be honest…” I said slowly, as if in a dream. “I’m trying to figure out something about myself right now.”

He slowly stood up, gesturing toward the door. “Do—Do you want me to leave?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Do whatever you want.”

“That’s not very hospitable of you,” I heard him say. Opening my eyes, I realized that he was back to where he stood just moments ago. Except this time, he wasn’t reaching for the bottle. His hand grabbed the glass in mine, softly pulling it away. “No, no,” he whispered. “Close your eyes.”

Could I hate myself for doing as he asked, yet enjoy losing control at the same time? His breath on my lips felt hot and suffocating. I wanted to withdraw; to shout at him for acting so inappropriately. But then I felt his lips on mine and forgot what I was angry about. His mouth tasted of something that had nothing to do with the wine. It was somehow sweeter, which got me thinking about the power of suggestion.

But what suggestion, when my mind had switched itself off completely? And what power when all I could do was slide my hands under his arms, placing my palms on the sides of his back, and pulling him closer. I didn’t exert any effort, since the slightest tug of my hands was enough invitation for the enthusiastic Chad.

Climbing onto the cushion, he pushed me backward, and I happily scooted, without breaking our kiss. It wasn’t long before I was flat on my back, welcoming his weight atop me.

While our mouths engaged in what must have been the longest kiss I’d ever had, I felt his hands in my hair. My mind sent out a desperate question, ‘Did I consent to this?’ and the answer was an unyielding ‘Yes’.

In that moment, I thought he had read my thoughts, because he lifted up his head and looked at my face. A moment later, he smiled and said, “Exactly how many bobby pins are in there?”

That was when I realized that his fingers had been working to undo my hair. “Enough to make you work for it, I guess,” I whispered.

Bringing a bobby pin between us, he placed the tip of it on my lower lip and pressed downward, using it to pull down and give way to my mouth. He then put away his hand and with it, the pin disappeared. As he lowered his mouth onto mine once again, I felt his fingers raking their way back into my hair, reaching my scalp this time. Massaging, pressing, and kneading, until I closed my eyes.

I didn’t know how someone like Chad got me this relaxed, or if I was already overdue for a moment of vulnerability when he came into my home. My tangled thoughts tried to work their way through the chaos in my mind, stroking hard against the overpowering waves of pleasure as everything his hands did was magic.

With the last remaining shreds of reason, I tried to think back to the last time I had orgasmed. Not only did I fail miserably, but the thought left me prey to self-doubt, questioning whether I should have been doing this at all.

It didn’t help that Chad’s lips were now crawling down between my breasts. When had he pulled down the dress over my shoulders, and when had he undone my bra?

Reluctantly, I placed my hand over his head, feeling it glide smoothly over the stubble of his soft hair. I sensed the sucking motions of his lips against my skin and moaned, pushing up my torso as if in an attempt to push him away.

“You like that, don’t you?” he murmured into my stomach before sliding south.

I panicked, and with both hands, grabbed his cheeks, forcing him to look up at me. “Don’t,” was the word I mustered.

“Don’t…” His hand snaked downward, settling between my thighs. “You sure?”

I moaned as he pressed, “Chad. Stop it.”

“We need to find a better safe-word than ‘stop it’, because Kaira…” his voice grew hoarser before I felt his lips on the inner side of my thigh, hissing, “You’re still giving me mixed signals.”

A sharp ‘Oh’ escaped my lips when he sucked hard on the sensitive flesh, sending shivers up my spine, rendering my back arched and my head tossed back against the mattress. “Chadwick!”

“Yes?” Hot breath against me mixed with the wetness that he had caused. I felt his lips, his tongue, and everything he so expertly did with them.

My body grew weaker, and my muscles started to shake. How could I get my hands to follow orders that my very core refused to acknowledge? How was I to push him away when every cell in my being craved so badly what he was bringing? The crescendo building up in the lower half of me sent pleasurable sensations upward, prompting my tongue to utter things I had never imagined myself saying. Things like, “Oh my God, yeah… don’t stop,” and “Jesus fucking Christ, Chad! Yes!”

‘Yes?’

Really?

Wasn’t that the lowest form of pornographic audio known to man? Couldn’t I have been a little bit more sophisticated at voicing pleasure? When was the last time I said things like that to a man?

Well, when was the last time sex with a man didn’t feel like a grounding chore?

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