Page 42 of Play for Keeps

“Here? Is this where you want me?”

His breath was hot and damp. The words spoken in a feverish hush made her toes curl. “Exactly.”

He ran the tip of his nose teasingly along her sex, then gave her clit a nudge that nearly made her sit bolt upright. She felt the curve of his smile against her heated flesh. Heard his pleasure in the sultry timbre of his voice. “And what did you want me to do while I’m hanging out down here?”

“Lick,” she answered at once. He complied but with only a solitary swipe of his hot tongue. One that didn’t go nearly far enough, or deep enough, to do anything but add fuel to the fire. “Suck.”

She barely uttered the command out before his mouth closed on her clit. The first pull yanked a gasp right out of her. The second stole her breath entirely. They had no need for words, which was a good thing, because Millie wasn’t certain she could form them. His mouth was hot, his appetite for her voracious. If the delicious sensations of his slick, wet flesh sliding over hers weren’t enough to send her sailing, the enthusiasm with which he applied himself might have been.

The storm gathered inside of her once more, her climax building with shocking speed. She was a one-and-done kind of girl. Usually, she found second orgasms overrated when one weighed effort exerted in the balance. This seemed to be barreling down on her like a bullet train.

“Oh!” Her cheeks burned, and her muscles coiled. She lifted her hips higher. All the better to meet the thrusts of the fingers he’d slipped into her.

And then she broke.

Waves of heat pulsed through her. Yes, they were gentler than the minor explosions he evoked before but no less intense. Each fresh wash of pleasure rippled through her whole body. This wasn’t a tsunami or even the kind of arcing crests people in 1950s beach movies boast of riding. Every stroke of his tongue unleashed another round of shudders. At the last, she lay quaking beneath him, her skin so tight she felt like she might burst straight out of her own birthday suit. If only she had the energy for bursting.

Before she could draw a deep breath, he was looming over her. Crowding her. Giving her the thrilling weight of his body pressing her into the cushion. Staring deep into her eyes, he hooked his arm under her knee, settled himself into the cradle of her hips, and thrust home in one stroke.

She gasped again. This time, the pleasure was tinged with shock—and a healthy dose of femininerawr. She raked her nails up his back, signaling her approval of his actions and hoping to spur him to greater heights. Then she drew back enough to watch the show. After all, who didn’t like a man who knew when to take charge?

“Did you think about this?” She tried to make her voice low and taunting, but to her own ears, she sounded more like an oxygen-impaired bullfrog. Determined to goad him a little, she cleared her throat and tried again. “Fucking me here…on this pretty red couch?” She raised one arm above her head and stroked the fine nap of the fabric. “Did Mari pick this out?”

He grunted, and his jaw tightened. The question seemed to throw him off for a beat, but he quickly recovered. “Yeah, she did.”

Moving with the languid laziness of a bumblebee drunk on nectar, Millie lifted her hand and cupped his face. She ran her thumb over the high arcing crest of his cheekbone, down to the rough of his incoming beard. “Funny how a woman can have such questionable taste in men and such good taste in decorating.” Ty’s only response was a sharp increase in tempo. “What? You don’t wanna talk about your ex-wife while you’re fucking me on her sofa?”

“Filthy mouth.” He ground the words out from between clenched teeth, but his lips were curved up at the corners.

Her answering smile stretched wide as she slipped into the groove. Literally and figuratively. The angle of Ty’s thrusts set her body tingling again, but she dismissed the notion of going for the three-peat. Twice was very nice, and she wasn’t feeling overly greedy. Just smug. “Like that, don’t you? You like my dirty mouth.”

“Keep going.”

Running her thumb over his jaw, she narrowed her eyes in challenge. “What if I don’t?”

Ty shifted his weight, the hard ridge of his hip bone biting into hers as he grappled for the arm of the couch. The next flex of his hips made her vision blur ever so slightly, but she couldn’t be bothered thinking about possible blindness now. Not when this new position granted her new access to his chest and the defined contours of his abs.

“This is a crime, you know,” she murmured.

He paused midthrust, every muscle in his body going rigid. “What?”

“A man your age looking like this.” She softened her chide by sliding her palm over the subtle bands of muscle. “No wonder all the teenyboppers want you to do them.”

He gripped one side of her ass and spread her even farther as he lifted her bodily off the couch to meet his next thrust. “I’m not interested in girls.”

She blinked, then let a sly smile come. “Wow. One night with me, and he becomes a switch-hitter.”

“Women,” he managed to grunt, his lip curling in a snarl. His gaze locked on her. He gulped visibly, then corrected himself. “Woman. One woman.”

Gratified to discover she’d robbed him of his ability to string words together, she reached down, grabbed the taut globes of his finely sculpted ass, pulled him deep inside her, and held him close. His breath caught. His arms trembled with exertion. Until she ran her hand over one bulging bicep, it hadn’t occurred to her that he still held the lion’s share of his weight off her. And she wanted that weight. All of it. All of him.

“Come,” she ordered, staring straight into his eyes.

“Huh.”

The grunt was a question, a refusal, and a fervent prayer all wrapped up in a single syllable. Her smile softened as she basked in the glow of the need lighting those amber eyes. She wet her lips, then repeated her request. “I want you to come. Don’t hold back, Ty. Stop fighting.”

“But…”

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