Page 42 of The Power Play

We are under the water, our bodies pressed against each other and I instinctually wrapped my arms around his neck, as he pulled me against him with the grip he has on my waist. We stay under, just feeling the closeness of each other in the silenceof the water. When we come up for air we are still pressed together.

I wrap my legs around his waist to see what he will do, and his breath catches, but he continues to hold me there.

“You didn’t tell me what your favorite color is,” his voice is strained, and I can tell he’s trying to distract from the hardness I can feel pressing against me.

“Red,” I answer easily.

His fingertips press into my skin. “You do always look fucking amazing in red.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the reason it’s my favorite.”

“What is?”

I smirk, “Because red is always associated with the Devil, and I was told a long time ago to stay away from anything that could be linked to him. So, naturally it’s my favorite.”

“Do you believe in the Devil? Or Hell or any of that stuff?”

Shrugging, I press myself even tighter against him, distracting both of us, because the last thing I want to talk about is any sort of belief system. Especially when I have a sexy muscular hockey player with a big dick that I’m literally wrapped around.

His eyes drop down to my lips and I take the opportunity, avoiding the conversation and lean forward slightly, closing the short distance between our mouths. He does the same, pressing his lips firmly against mine.

I flick my tongue against his lips, and he takes advantage of what I’m asking for, massaging his tongue against mine. I rollmy hips against his, feeling his erection against my core, letting out a small whimper against his mouth as I do it again. Charlie’s hands are firm holding me against him. I can feel the internal battle he’s currently facing; both wanting more and holding back.

Taking one of his hands from my waist, I slide it around my stomach and tease the waistband of my swimsuit with his fingers.

“Touch me,” I say against his lips. I know he wants to, but was struggling to initiate any further, like he wasn’t sure how. I almost question if he lied and heisin fact a virgin. But with the way he ate me out before, clearly that’s not the case.

He slides his hand further, just barely grazing me and letting out a groan into our kiss. I’m obviously wet, but not just from the water surrounding us and I know he can feel it. His fingers brush against my clit and I push my hips into him wanting more pressure.

I nip at his bottom lip at the same moment he pushes one finger inside me. I gasp, rocking my hips to get friction against my clit.

“God, you feel good,” he breathes, “so warm and tight.”

I want to tell him I’d feel better around his cock but am smart enough to realize that might send him running away. And I want this, just like this. Except I want to touch him too.

“Give me more,” I instruct, as he pumps his finger once, twice before adding a second one.

I moan, latching onto his mouth again, stroking my tongue roughly against his. He works me with his hand, fingersdragging in and out, while his palm rubs against my clit, and I buck against him wanting more.

My patience is wearing thin as I reach between us into his shorts and fist my hand around the rock-hard length. He grunts at the contact and shoves his hand harder against me as if on instinct.

“This okay?” I ask, but the way his hips are already thrusting forward, pushing himself further into my hand I feel like I have my answer.

“Yeah,” he moans. “More than okay.”

Ideally, I would like to untie my suit, and push down his so I can have his amazing cock inside me instead of his fingers. Squeezing my hand around him, I decide to try and drive him just as mad as me.

His fingers are working inside of me, rubbing and curling while he fucks into my hand and our mouths stay locked with all tongues and teeth. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything like this without it leading to more. Though, I would like to, it’s oddly hot to be so worked up, so close by only our hands on each other.

When I start to feel the distinct feeling of an orgasm beginning it almost shocks me. I’ve never come from just a guy’s hands. My own, sure. While some tongue and a mouth are involved, yes. But guys tend to not know what they are doing purely with their fingers and then usually move on to something else anyway.

Charlie has seemed to master my body and is moving in and out with the perfect rhythm while the heel of his palm rubs with the exact pressure I need. When he pushes his fingers in deep, curling them and rubbing right where my G-spot is, I practicallylose it. My hand wrapped so tightly around him it must be somewhat painful, but he doesn’t say anything and doesn’t let up.

“Right there, oh fuck,” I cry as he continues to do exactly what I need and doesn’t try to speed up or slow down like a moron.

“So fucking pretty,” his voice is low, I almost miss that he said anything at all.

I’m clinging to him, still working my hand on him, but have lost my own rhythm as the release barrels toward me. Bucking my hips against him, I explode in a myriad of cries and whimpers as he continues to rub me until I come down.

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