Page 97 of Play Along

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Keep going.”

I take my time tracing every crevice on his stomach, smoothing his chest and curving around the back of his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

It starts slow, soft, and sweet. Our mouths take their time exploring one another as we hide under the sheets in his bedroom. He tenderly cups my face, holding me to him, but in no time at all, it heats, kisses turning long and deep. I hum in approval when his tongue touches mine, sweeping in and taking control.

His hands are gentle as they touch me, but his mouth... his mouth takes.

“I have fucking dreamed about this,” he pants against my lips. “About kissing you. About touching you. I don’t want it to stop.”

So I don’t let it.

Lifting my leg, I drape it over his hip and as I do, Isaiah pulls the sheets up to cover us completely.

A weird emotion clogs my throat at that. Because this... this feels safe to explore, while the lights are off, and we’re hidden under the covers. It feels safe to not be perfect, where no one else but him will see.

Hooking a hand around my ass, he tears his mouth away just in time to look down and watch the moment he pulls my hips into his. His erection is impossible to hide behind the cotton material of his sweats and even more apparent when it presses against my core.

A moan slips from my lips, my back arching when he grazes my clit.

“Fuck,” he draws out as he watches himself do it again.

I have never, not once, felt so comfortable touching someone the way I touch Isaiah. In fact, I never have touched someone the way I touch Isaiah.

“Keep going,” he encourages, fingers smoothing any flyaway hairs from my face, thumb gently dusting over my cheekbone.

I languidly trace every dip and curve of his chest and stomach as he patiently watches, holding himself back and giving me room to explore.

“Feels so good, Kenny.”

It’s the confidence I need to keep going, keep touching.

I study the way his eyes shut as my palms cover the expanse of his back. The way his nostrils flare with each exhale as I discover the ropes of his arms. The way his breath hitches as my fingertips trail back down to trace the V that dips into his sweats.

I have this aching need to touch him everywhere, this beautiful boy who used to drive me insane.

Pushing my hips, I roll my body into him and watch his Adam’s apple protrude with his deep swallow.

I lean over and press my lips to it.

“Jesus, Kenny, do that again and I’m going to come in my fucking sweatpants like some kind of pent-up teenager.”

I smile against his skin.

His entire body shivers against me, his breathing turning shallow as I trace a forefinger along the line of the V that dips down to his cock.

“Touch it,” he commands. “Fucking hell, Kennedy, please just touch it.”

Wow, this arrogant man sounds fantastic when he begs.

I do as he asks, dipping a hand under the waistband. My fingers trace over his warm skin, over his taut muscles and protruding veins, dusting over the hair there, before sliding down and grazing the soft skin of his erection.

Isaiah grits through his teeth, every muscle in his body firing as his fingers dig into my thigh that’s draped around him. “Please,” he begs. “Please wrap your hand around it.”

“You’re very polite when you want something.”

His chuckle is dark. “Oh baby, I told you already. I’m a good boy, especially when I want something.”

I circle his width with my hand, the pad of my thumb smoothing over his crown to gather a bead of moisture.

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