Page 109 of Play the Game

Of course not.

I’m likely to regret this the second he’s not on top of me with that look of obsessive desire in his eye, but God, what I wouldn’t give to know what it feels like to be his wife in the real sense of the word.

Call it curiosity.

Or self-sabotage.

Either way, I want to know what it feels like to give in to Emory Olson.

“I want to know what it feels like to be a wife.” I lick my lips.

Emory’s hot grin sends my stomach tumbling. I trip over my thoughts when he sits up and gazes down at me like I’m all he sees. His calloused hand trails down my bare arm, and he sends me a look that steals my breath. “You want to know what it feels like to bemywife, you mean.”

I try to swallow, but everything locks up. I nod, even though there’s a super-vulnerable part of me that keeps tying my nerves together.

“Then get on your knees, and let me show you what you do to me.”

The hunger I feel to please him is something I haveneverfelt before.

I have never had a man talk to me like this, and if they tried, I would have given them the finger.

But there’s a delicious pull in my stomach, and I think I surprise us both when I sit up slowly, swing my legs over the bed, and plant myself on the floor.

Emory inhales from up above.

His hand falls to my chin. “You keep fucking surprising me.” I open my mouth slightly when his thumb rubs over my bottom lip. My tongue jolts out, all on its own, and he curses under his breath before staring at the ceiling.

Tired of waiting for him, I slip my fingers under the waistband of his boxers and free his cock. His hand lands on my head, and he backs away before shooting me a dirty look. I raise an eyebrow, like I have something to prove, and grip him hard.

He hisses, and I grow excited.

Seeing Emory—as rugged as a man that he is—try to hold back is addicting.

I want to make him buckle at the knees like he does to me, even if he’s more willing to admit it than I am.

“Your wife is at your service,” I muse from below, wrapping my hand around his hard length.

His fingers tangle in my hair, and he glares at me. “Don’t say things like that to me, Biscotti.”

I can’t help it, I smile. I run my hand down his length and pull back, peering up at him. “Or what?”

With a look of pure passion on his face, he tugs on my hair, and my head goes backward. “Open.”

I drop my jaw, and as soon as he’s in my mouth, heat pours from in between my legs. Emory moves in and out of my mouth, and when I peer up at him from on my knees, he’s staring at me like he’s in a haze. I’ve never seen anything hotter than him losing control.

Watching him jerk himself off in the shower was one thing.

Feeling him fill my mouth paired with the tugging of my hair is on an entirely new level.

“You on your knees for me is the highlight of our marriage.Fucking hell.” His hips move faster and deeper, and I take every bit of what he’s giving me. “Quit looking at me like that.”

I don’t know what he’s talking about, but with the way he can barely get any words out, I think he likes the way I’m looking at him.

“You…” He pulls out for a second, and my lips feel wet and swollen. “You look so innocent, but you’re so into this, aren’t you?”

I nod.

Emory’s jaw is as sharp as a knife. A faint growl leaves his throat when he tugs on my chin. I open my mouth again, and when he’s inside, I taste the little bit of saltiness on the tip of his cock.

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