Page 45 of Playing with My Heart

“Guilty as charged,” came a voice from the doorway. Bryan stepped in, arms crossed, looking like the cat that got the cream. “But hey, love makes you do silly things, right?”

“Like bet on your friend’s love life?” Parker quipped, finally easing into the camaraderie.

“Exactly,” Kara shot back as she joined us.

“Alright, alright, we’ve given them a hard enough time for one day,” Justin said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get out of here and leave these two lovebirds alone.” He ushered everyone out the door then turned back, a wry smirk on his face. “But seriously, you guys need to be more discreet, or at least lock the door.”

“Point taken,” Parker said, still looking a little shell-shocked as they all left the office, their laughter echoing down the hall.

“Guess we’re not as sneaky as we thought,” I mused, watching Parker collect himself.

“Seems like it,” he agreed, but there was a sparkle in his eye that told me he wasn’t upset. “So, what now?”

I shrugged, feeling the weight of the day melt away with the humor of the situation. “Now, we go home and finish what they so rudely interrupted.”

“I like that plan.”

The drive home was full of flirtatious banter and sly touches, each red light a chance for our hands to find each other. It was electric, the way we could barely keep our eyes on the road, the way every glance held a promise, every smile hinted at the night ahead.

By the time we made it home and I unlocked the door, we were both ready to burst. I locked the door behind us, and before I could flick on the lights, Parker’s hands found my face, guiding me to meet his eager lips. The kiss was a heady mix of urgency and tenderness, our mouths moving together as if we were trying to communicate everything we’d been holding back all day. The familiar scent of his aftershave mingled with the faint musk of his skin filled my nostrils, stoking the fire inside me.

“Travis,” he murmured against my lips, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down my spine.

“Bedroom,” was all I managed to reply, my mind singularly focused.

We stumbled through the darkened space, a trail of hastily discarded clothes marking our path up the stairs. Each piece shed was a promise, a tease of what was to come, heightening the anticipation until it was almost unbearable.

In the dim glow from the bedside lamp, we stripped each other bare. Parker’s body was a landscape I was determined to explore inch by inch. His skin, smooth and warm under my touch, begged for attention. My fingers traced the contours of his muscles, reveling in the soft sighs and gasps that escaped him.

“God, you’re incredible,” I breathed, taking in the sight of him stretched out on my bed.

His eyes darkened with desire as I leaned down, capturing his mouth once more as I settled between his thighs. The taste of him—something uniquely Parker—was intoxicating, a taste I’d become addicted to. The feel of his stubble against my skin was a delightful contrast to the softness of his lips, urging me deeper into the kiss.

“Travis, please,” he whispered, breaking away just enough to speak. It was the sweetest kind of torture, hearing my name fall from his lips like a prayer.

“Relax, let me take care of you,” I said, my words punctuated with kisses along his jawline, down his neck, pausing to savor the rapid pulse beneath his skin.

I reached for the bedside drawer, retrieving the necessary supplies. My movements were deliberate, unhurried, as I coated my fingers, warming the slick substance before trailing a hand reaching between his legs to circle the ring of muscles teasingly.

Gently, I massaged around his entrance, allowing one finger to slip in, feeling him tense and then relax into the sensation. A second finger joined the first, scissoring slowly, stretching him with care and patience, knowing it had been a while for both of us. His breath hitched, and I watched a flush spread across his cheeks, the visual imprinting itself in my memory.

“I need more. I need you,” he urged, lifting his hips in silent invitation.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” I promised, sliding the condom on and positioning myself at his entrance. “Are you ready for me, Parker?” I asked, locking eyes with him.

“Yes,” he replied, and the trust in his gaze fueled my desire to make this perfect for him.

With slow, steady pressure, I pushed forward, giving him time to adjust to the fullness. “Travis—” The sound of his voice, raw and edged with pleasure and need, spurred me on.

As I began to move, each thrust was a study in control—giving and taking, pushing and pulling. Our bodies moved together in a rhythm as old as time, yet as new and thrilling as if we were the first to discover its secrets. The sounds of our lovemaking filled the room—the slap of skin against skin, the ragged breaths, the whispered endearments. The scent of sex and sweat hung heavy in the air, a tangible reminder of our union.

“Look at me,” I commanded softly, and he did, his eyes locking onto mine as we neared the precipice.

“Oh, God! I’m—” He didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t need to. I felt him unravel beneath me, his body clenching around mine in the most exquisite way, triggering my own release.

We collapsed together in a tangle of limbs, our breathing gradually slowing. As I pulled him close, I felt an emotion far deeper than lust settle in my chest. It was as if every playful glance, every shared laugh, had led to this moment—this profound connection that went beyond the physical.

“Stay with me tonight. Here, in my bed,” I whispered, nuzzling into his hair.

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