Page 34 of Playing Rucking Hard

“You are so fuck’n beautiful.” His eyes don’t leave mine as he gently lowers me until my head is on a pillow, but my feet remain on the floor. “The most beautiful, the most captivating, the most alluring woman I’ve ever met. I can’t get you out of my head.”

“Gee, and I thought you only want me for my mind.” I play with his hair as he kneels between my ankles, my legs spread as far as the tight dress allows. “While, I’m wondering how you’ll get me out of this dress?”

“You mean, asking isn’t enough?” He clasps my ankles and starts working his thumbs up my legs and under the dress in a way that sets my skin on fire. “I’ll need to find another way?”

“Let me count the ways,” I say with a flirt, scratching my nails along his jaw. “You could rip it from me, but the fabric will stretch before it tears.”

“Or I can inch it up slowly until you’re begging for me to remove it.” His arms have disappeared under my dress, and thumbs are playing so close to my center that I swear he must be able to feel me.

“Hmm, should I play with your hair, or your chest, or my tits?” I wonder aloud, loving the pained look that flashes across his face.

“Oh, Em, you’re killing me, here.” He extracts one arm and somehow lifts my ass to pull up the dress until it’s bunchedaround my waist. “Now, that’s more like it. Nothing between me and tonguing you to scream my name other than this.” He tugs at my lacey boy briefs. “My next challenge.”

“You break ’em, you replace them,” I warn with a cheeky grin. “And I expect a matching bra and panty set.”

“Challenge accepted.” With one arm underneath me and pulling my hips into place, Dylan presses down on my chest for me to lay back. “Just relax and let me enjoy you.”

As fingertips swirl around one breast, teasing and tantalizing me, Dylan slowly tongues his way up my legs. I can barely reach his head, and each time I grab onto his hair, he pulls away. “The only thing I want you to do is come,” he says with a growl. “Now, be a good girl and let yourself go.”

I can’t. I shouldn’t. But when he rubs his nose just above my clit, and I feel his warm breath on my wet core, it takes all my self-control not to squeeze him to death with my thighs.

“Oh, yeah.” I tug a pillow to my face to hide incomprehensible moans, only for Dylan to yank it away. “Please … oh, yes, please.” I moan as his tongue laps sideways before circling around where I need him the most.

“Please, Dyl, please,” I beg. “I want you so much. Please, just …”

“Like this?” With one hand under my ass, and thumb teasing the rear of my vagina, and his other hand under my dress with fingers pinching my left nipple, Dylan draws my clit into his mouth and sucks.

OMG. It’s as if he has all my nerves humming to the beat of his song. I can’t move. I don’t want to move. If I move, he might stop, and then I’ll go down for murder.

His mouth is divine. His hands know what to do. And my body? It’s just the canvas on which he paints.

The pressure builds from my toes, and I feel the need to come coursing through my veins. My need for him has only grownsince that first night, and if I allow him to make me come, he’ll win. I’ll be his … no other man will be enough …and I don’t care.

“Yes, Dyl, yes … just like that … yes,” I scream, not caring who hears as my orgasm pounds through me. My legs trap him in place, and I don’t care if he can breathe, or not—as long as his tongue stays in place and he rewards my right nipple for her patience.

If my orgasm hit like a freight train, coming down is soft and slow. I release Dylan who kisses around to my pussy, under my dress and up to my belly button, before smothering his face between my breasts. He shouldn’t be able to breathe under there, but I don’t have the energy to help.

He is … more. He is so extra … I have no words. He is just … Dylan.

“I want to dive inside your mind and find your secrets.” His soft lips to my neck have me quivering. OMG, this man.Thisman. Instead of demanding his release, he helped me out of my dress, shucked out of his clothes, and then pulled me into his chest for post-orgasm cuddles. Cuddles! My panties are torn and ruined, my bra cups are underneath my boobs, and the man wants cuddles and conversation.

“No secrets here,” I banter back only for him to roll on top to cage me.

“Don’t do that.” There are flashes of something in his light aqua eyes. Hurt? Warning? “Don’t lie to me. I know you have your secrets. I have mine. If we do this right, we’ll peel away secret by secret until the only thing left is us.”

“I …” I start before his lips cover mine, and instead of slow and gentle, it’s like he is punishing me for my lie. Lips tanglingtogether, I feel the twin urgency of his kiss and need to know my secrets.

“Fuck, you are more beautiful than I remember.” He cups one breast in each hand, rubbing and pressing together. “I want to fuck these, but not today. I want to slide inside your beautiful pussy and feel you come again, but this time around my cock.”

I don’t know what to look at or what to do. His chest is a work of art, strong, muscular, and with the intricate ink that could keep me entertained for days. But I’m mesmerized watching his eyes work over my body. So, rather than inspecting the perfection in front of me, I let my hands become my eyes.

Any man can kiss and caress, but the way Dylan wants me? It’s a full-body rush. Almost apologetically, he breaks away to retrieve a condom from his wallet. “These normally come with an assistant asking you to sign an NDA.”

“Then don’t give me something to talk about, give me something to scream about.”

He pauses, kneeling between my legs, his sheathed cock beautiful and hungry. “Why can’t I stay away from you?” he asks, almost to himself. “You have me pussy-whipped.” He cups my pussy, and inserts one finger, teasingly. “This pussy of yours has me whipped.”

“Be careful then, she might bite.”

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