Page 79 of Play Along

“Do what feels good,” I whisper into the dark space.

Kennedy runs her hand across my forearm that’s holding her, her palm finding the back of my hand before dipping her fingers in the space between mine, lacing our hands as I hold her to me.

“Mmm, I fucking love that.”

“Yeah?” she asks over her shoulder.

I slip my other arm over her waist as well, lips ghosting the shell of her ear as I dance with her. With a bit more confidence, Kennedy lifts her dangling hand from her side, mentally cataloging what she wants to do with it, but instead drops it right back to her thigh, stiff and uncomfortable.

“I’m in my head,” she admits.

I quickly glance around the room. I can’t see too much thanks to the crowd and the darkness, but I find an empty corner in the back.

“Come with me.” I keep our hands intertwined as I bring her to the dark corner.

There’s a barstool waiting, so I take a seat, pulling her to stand between my spread legs.

We’re almost eye to eye at this height, and I stare right at her when I tell her, “Touch me however you want to.”

Her brows cinch, her eyes almost taking on a glossy sheen, and I don’t know if it’s because she’s embarrassed or what.

No one is watching, everyone’s backs are turned to us as they listen to the live band play in front of them.

Kennedy studies me, researching and trying to figure out the best way to start.

“Don’t overthink, Ken.”

She lifts her hands, but instantly drops them to my knees with a smack.

My chest rumbles.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you, baby.” Moving her hair away from her face, I tuck it behind her ears. “I just find it funny that you’re so in your head right now, while I’m over here desperate for you to touch me and knowing there’s nothing you could do that I’m not going to like.”

Her brown eyes peek up at me through her lashes. “Really?”

“Promise. Think of this as part of our game.” Going first, I let my hands find her outer thighs, fingers working to pull her closer. “Play along.”

Kennedy steps into me, her palms dragging up my legs, thumbs gliding along the inside seam of my pants.

I’d like to say I’ve got this under control. That I’ve been touched by enough women to handle the fact that my wife’s thumbs are languidly tracing a path straight to my cock, but I’d be lying if I said I were anywhere near calm or collected right now.

“This okay?” she asks, her hands working their way to my upper thighs.

My voice is strained. “More than okay.”

She’s watching her hands as they move over my thighs and I swear to God I know she can see, even through the darkness, that I’m half hard and needy as fuck.

This. This is why I haven’t slept in the bed with her, because she’s innocently touching me and I’m over here getting a hard-on because of it.

As her hands move up my legs, my fingers dig into her hips, gripping onto her for dear life, and when she’s only two inches away from where my body needs her attention the most, she takes her hands away.

My lungs find a bit of oxygen again when she moves to my forearms, working the same path upward. She stops at the bend in my elbow. “Can you take this off?” she asks, referring to my jacket.

“You can take it off for me.”

She attempts to hide her smile by slipping her bottom lip between her teeth, and fuck if I don’t want to get it out of there and slip it between my own.

---