Page 40 of The Player

“You know you sound so caring, Frankie, and yet inside, you’re still laughing at me.”

“Well, it’ll teach you not to take the piss out of me with the high bed. What on earth happened?”

“It’s your fault. You spoke to me, and I turned. In my bed, there’d be space. Not so much with this fucker.”

I snort and manfully stop myself. “And have you hurt yourself?”

My voice wavers, and he shakes his head. “Never consider a career in the nursing profession.Never.”

“I’ve got the hands of a surgeon.”

“And the sense of humour of a five-year-old. It’s a lethal combination.”

That sets me off again, and when I stop this time, I find myself hovering far too close to him. My hand is down beside his head, my fingers brushing his hair. My laughter dies, and before I can think better of it, my fingers move, twining in his hair and feeling the softness slip over my skin.

I still when I find him watching me, his eyes dark in the moonlight.

“Con,” I whisper and gasp as he raises his hands. For a long moment, he stares at me as if contemplating one of the great mysteries of the world, and then, grabbing my face gently, he brings me into him and takes my lips with a soft groan.

For a second, we rest against each other, both stunned by the evening’s development, and then the feel of his lips against mine overrides all the voices screaming caution at me, and I open my mouth, sending my tongue out to tangle with his.

He tastes of mint, and his lips are soft and pillowy, and the kiss seems to spark from there as we go from zero to a hundred in seconds, twisting and turning to get closer while our mouths eat at each other.

He moans in the back of his throat, one hand holding my skull between his big hands and keeping my lips against his. Time seems to slow down as we kiss until my lips feel sore, and my dick is throbbing hard. Con moans and grabs my arse, urging me to straddle him. I lift and obey him. I only have my briefs on,and they’re barely managing to contain my cock, and I groan as my dick rubs against the hard length in his boxers.

He sucks on my tongue gently, and I push down against him. The pressure feels right, but it’s not enough, so I pull back. “Take them off,” I say wildly as he thumbs the band of my underwear. He groans, staring at me through slitted eyes, and then his fingers move, caressing my skin as he pushes the briefs below my arse. I sit up into a crouch and tear them off, throwing them over my shoulder.

“You too,” I pant, fisting my cock in a tight grip to avoid going off like a rocket as he pushes his boxers down. I can’t help staring at the body he reveals. He has a tight stomach that leads down to a V line. Brown hair runs from his belly button downwards like an arrow pointing to his cock. I gulp. His huge cock.

“Jesus,” I whisper, and he gives a choked chuckle.

“Don’t stare.”

“I can’t help it, Connie. That’s fucking massive. It’s theTitanicof cocks.”

“Didn’t that sink?”

“It’s never going to happen to you with that buoyancy aid between your legs.”

I stare down at it and slide my finger along the silky skin. The skin is stretched tight over his cock, with a prominent vein standing out darkly.

I tighten my grip on my cock, and he stares at my hand. “Touch yourself,” he says. “I want to see.”

For a wild second, I want to do it, but then I hesitate, feeling suddenly and inexplicably shy. A flush stains my cheeks, and I bite my lip.“Con?” I say, suddenly uncertain, and he sits up, his stomach muscles tightening in a very distracting way.

“No,” he says, kissing the side of my mouth. “Don’t start thinking, Frankie.” He kisses the side of my mouth again, andthen again. Teasing kisses that come close but never connect with my waiting mouth, and all the while, his big hand clutches my skull tenderly, his fingers caught in the waves of my hair. I feel the tension ease out of me, and I chase his mouth almost drunkenly, my eyes drifting closed.

“Con,” I say, barely able to recognise the dazed sound of my own voice.

“Yes,” he says and kisses me properly, his tongue tangling with mine, and within seconds, I’m lost again, all my senses narrowing to the feel of him naked against me. My Con, who smells of soap and has his big hands on me, caressing my skin while he eats at my mouth with urgent little sounds.

Before I know it, I’ve pushed him to his back and climbed onto him, straddling him. My cock rubs against his, and I cry out, thrusting my hips to get the pressure again and again.

“Like this,” he whispers and raises his hand to me. Immediately guessing what he wants, I lick his palm and fingers, getting them sloppily wet before taking one finger into my mouth and sucking on it lazily. He puts another finger against my lips, stretching the lines of my mouth, and shudders wildly when I take that in too, taking them to the back of my throat with ease and getting them slippery and wet.

He pulls them out of my mouth with a wet plop, and I cry out as he encircles our cocks in his hand. I add my own on top of it, bridging the gap and squeezing his fingers. Beginning to cant my hips, I shuttle my dick through the tight grip. I can smell the tang of precome in the air and feel it moistening our shafts and making the slide incredible. I groan, and leaving him to hold our dicks, I rest my hands on his huge shoulders, digging in my fingernails and rubbing against him in a vigorous motion like the tide.

“Kiss me,” he pleads, and I bend to take his mouth. My hair falls around us, hiding us behind a silky black curtain, and helets go of our cocks to clutch my head close to him, his fingers tugging on the strands. I press my head into his hands and rub against him, the motion lubricated by precome and sweat. I rear back and watch him as I writhe, digging my fingers into his big chest and brushing his nipple.

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