Page 32 of Force Play

Her mocha eyes looking up at me when she fell to her knees and took me into her mouth for the first time. The disappointment on her face when I pulled her off, and how it morphed into a grin when I hauled her up off the floor and told her to crawl across the bed. How that smile stretched when I told Indie I had big plans for her and they didn’t involve me coming down her throat—at least not right then.

My fist works faster, matching the need I feel for the woman in my mind.

Each memory is better than the last, but nothing sends me over the edge as fast as the memory of the way she melted underneath me, pliant and soft the first time I sank into her. I can still taste how salty her skin was when I kissed her shoulder as she cried out for me.

My thighs shake and my groan echoes through the empty room. Like always, it’s mixed with her name as hot spurts of cum land on my stomach.

And just like every time it feels empty when I open my eyes and she’s not there; coming to a memory of her is a shadow of the moments we shared in between the sex. Her sharp tongue, whispered stories about our childhoods, her dreams, the unhinged laughter she treated me to when we were watching videos of people getting hurt.

“Holy shit. I know I told you this was one and done, but what I really meant was one night. Or was that all you got?” Pushing her hair off her face, she rolls off me.

And then, like the devil she is, she chooses the exact moment I’m taking care of the condom to slip out of bed. Tying it off, I quickly reach out trying to snag her, but the only thing there is air. All I’m left with is her fading chuckles and the smell of her still floating in the room as she disappears into the bathroom.

“You weren’t so snarky when you were coming all over my cock just a minute ago!” I shout towards the cracked bathroom door. Then, because I can’t help myself, I pant, slapping my hand against the wall and chanting my own name, mimicking her smoky voice the best I can. Which, admittedly, is not well, because her little moans and grunts of ecstasy matched the poetic melody of the world’s sexiest symphony, and I just sound like a terrible porn soundtrack.

Laughter bounces off the bathroom walls, letting me know I sound just as ridiculous to her ears.

“Just for the snark, you’re going to take my cock all night long. And I’m going to make sure every time is unforgettable.”

“Is that so?” The water running at the sink stops, and she steps back into the room, all my favorite parts of her right there, on display, in the moonlight.

“You’ll be doomed to a lifetime of remembering how good I felt deep inside you, knowing your stubborn ass can’t have it again because it was only one night. But first, I just need a few minutes to recover.”

“A few?” she squeaks, but it doesn’t stop me from lunging for her again. This time I’m faster and I catch her, pulling her back to me before she can run again.

“The MLPA requires I take a fifteen minute break between rounds, per our labor contract.” I haul her against me by the waist as she squirms. “So tell me something while we wait. What’s your guilty pleasure—other than my dick?”

“What do you mean?”

“When Indie Marie—”

“Not my middle name.” Warm laughter tumbles out of her freely. Each time she makes that sound, my chest puffs up a little more.

“As I was saying, when Indie Jones needs to turn off her brain and relax, what does she do?”

“Wrong again.” When she lifts her head from my chest, there’s a gleam in her eye. “Don’t judge me. It’s kind of evil.”

“I would expect nothing less.” My teeth nip at her earlobe, making her squirm against me. “Tell me.”

“Videos of people falling, tripping, colliding with things. If I’m feeling extra spicy, the ones with ball shots really brighten up my day.” She reaches for my phone on the nightstand and hands it to me to unlock.

I pull up YouTube and she vibrates against my chest laughing at the home page which is filled with funny pet videos.

“Talk about predictable.” The backs of her fingers run up my jawline before she pats my cheek.

Plucking the phone from my fingers, she taps at the screen. When she turns it back to me, I shake my head as the catcher on the screen takes a foul ball right to his crotch. “That’s not going to shorten my refractory period.”

Her unhinged laughter at the player’s misfortune turns raspy when she runs her hand down my stomach. “Hmm. What about this?”

“Yeah, that’ll do it. But you only get him if you can watch a video of a dog eating watermelon without laughing.”

She cups me, a shit-eating grin on her face. “So you’re telling me that if I laugh, you won’t let me wrap my lips around you and taste you? I’ve been dying to get my mouth on you all night.”

“You drive a hard bargain, but fine, my body is yours to use as you please. We don’t even have to watch this.” I drop the phone to the bed and roll her onto her back. “That was close enough to fifteen minutes.”

Like I said, empty.

Physically, Indie and I are compatible as hell. Hands down the best sex of my life. But sex alone has never kept my attention, which is why I’ve been mostly single since college. Only having a few brief relationships as an adult, I’ve been biding my time for the person who would come along and make me want to chase the kind of devotion my parents have. Someone I could see being my best friend and challenging me every single day—not letting me get bored or complacent.

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