Page 58 of Anti Player

“I’m not trying to.” He grins mischievously. “Brett is with Asher. Come with me, please?” His pleading tone sets something off inside me.

I follow him to his apartment or more like he is holding my hand, leading the way. I’m not thinking of consequences.

We walk into his apartment. The lights are off. Kaleb spins around and pins me to the door. He kisses me breathless. I loop my arms around his neck and he lifts me off the floor as he wraps my legs around his waist.

“Kaleb,” I squeal.

“I’m impatient,” he responds.

He walks me to his room and places me down on his bed. He reaches over and turns on the lamp on his nightstand.

His room is masculine, and his bed is huge and plush. “This is very different from your room back home.”

“I know,” he says.

The walls are charcoal, and he has an off-white upholstered king-size bed in the middle with black and charcoal throw pillows. His nightstands are black, and his floors are oak with a light gray area rug.

“You really hate it there,” I say of our hometown.

“I don’t hate Cliftwood. I have nothing to go home to,” he says.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” I say to him.

“Thank you. You’re the first girl I’ve ever brought to my bed.”

I pause and look at him. “Why?”

He chuckles. “Because there was no way I was letting puck bunnies know where I live. Not after I’ve seen the shenanigans Brett has faced.”

I lift my hand. “I don’t want to hear about my brother.” I cringe.

“Sorry.” He winces. “Now where were we?”

I lean back on the bed and move up to the pillows. “I think we were kissing.”

“I have a better idea,” he says.

“Oh yeah?”

“Take off your clothes. . .slowly.” I like where he’s going with this.

I slowly lift my tank top off over my head. “Is there any order I should be stripping for you?”

He licks his lips. “Now the shorts.”

I get up on my knees and remove the shorts. I get on all fours. My panties are a thong. And I turn my head to look back at him. “What’s next?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he strips his clothes off superfast, discarding them to the floor and gets on the bed. He gives my ass a smack and then rubs it and squeezes my butt cheek. I moan.

“Oh, you like that, do you?” he asks, his voice taunting.

I nod.

He smacks my ass again with the same motion of smack, caress, squeeze.

“Are you wet for me?” he asks.

“Why don’t you check?” I reply, still on all fours.

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