Page 52 of Well Played

I was marrying a man who was terrified of birds, thanks to a prank his sisters pulled on him when they were young. Most days it seemed ridiculous and provided me with endless entertainment watching him duck and run at any hint of bird activity. But even I had to admit that the crow on campus may have had it out for him.

Luckily, that concern was behind us now that we’d moved into a small apartment together.

“I don’t think it’s the same crow, though.”

Oscar hummed in disagreement.

Time for a distraction.

I turned in his arms, reaching up to pull his face down toward mine. He came willingly, but his eyes strained to stay on the bird.

“You can stress about your archnemesis, or you can get me naked, Caveman. What will it be?”

“Naked.” The answer was quick, but he still edged us out of the room before sweeping me up into his big arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist, throwing my head back to give him access as he ran his lips over my throat.

“Mmm, you taste so good.”

“Watch where you’re—Ah!” I squealed, laughter pealing out of me as Oscar walked us into the bedroom door frame and stumbled over his sneakers. With a ridiculous level of athleticism, he caught his balance without dropping me and crossed to our bed without further incident.

“Strip,” he grunted, whipping his shirt over his head and working the laces on his shorts.

“Wow, you put a ring on it and suddenly all the romance is gone.”

He paused, his face creasing in concern until he saw my teasing grin.

“I’ll have you know, I’m romantic as fuck.”

“Of course you are, boo. Now come over here and stick it to me.”

He hesitated for a moment, torn between jumping me and reaffirming his romantic abilities. The truth was that he was a huge romantic at heart. I loved the ways he showed me I mattered, and that the traumatized person I had been didn’t overshadow the healing person I’d grown into.

None of that meant that I wouldn’t play with him every chance I got.

I slipped my shirt over my head then wriggled out of my jeans, pausing as my eyes snagged on the beautiful ring that sat on my left hand. A beautiful, ethically sourced round ruby surrounded by diamond chips winked out at me from a yellow gold band. Oscar had chosen perfectly, and the pride on his face when he had presented it to me was a memory I’d cherish for years.

His warm hand wrapped around my ankle, shaking me from my thoughts as he tugged me down the bed.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his grin saying he knew exactly what had caught my attention. I sat up, comingface to face with his erection. It bobbed in appreciation of my scrutiny, and instead of answering, I leaned forward and ran my tongue over the head. A shiver ran through his large frame, and before he could stop me, I gripped his hips and sucked his length into my mouth.

“Mia.” His voice was rough with lust and possession that never seemed to abate, despite the time we’d spent together.

I loved the way he reacted to me. How he toed the line of dominant while always ensuring I felt in charge.

Sucking hard, I added a gentle scrape of teeth as I pulled back enough to see his green eyes darken. He raked his fingers through my hair, eyes intent on where my lips stretched around him, a soft stream of encouragement falling from his lips.

“You’re so beautiful, my Mia. You take me so well. Fuck, your mouth. I’m not going to last if you keep going like that.”

As his cock thickened in my mouth, he hooked me under my arms and threw me backward onto the mattress.

“I never come before you,” he growled, sliding my panties down my legs and settling on his belly. I pouted, losing the battle against a grin as he tried and failed to scowl back at me.

“But I want to make my fiancé feel good.”

His eyes slammed shut on a groan. It was a game I’d played with him since the proposal. The caveman part of him loved the idea of being my fiancé, and he seemed to get off on the reminder that I would be his wife soon.

“This will always make me feel good,” he said, lowering his head and dragging his tongue up my slit. I gasped, fisting his hair as I pulled my knees up, opening to his mouth.

“Yes.” He worked me like his favorite ice cream, finding every sensitive area until I was a panting mess. When I thought he’d let me finish, he gripped my thighs tightly to his ears and rolled.

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