Page 14 of The Playmaker
I gasp as his hands squeeze my ass, lifting my professional gray skirt around my waist.
He nips my bottom lip, pulling back as my fingers reach for his shorts, pushing them down.
I place one hand on his chest while the other strokes him through his briefs. His eyes darken, his breathing shallow. Then he's tearing at my thong.
"Fuck, yes!" I moan as his finger brushes my folds—just a tease, but enough to reveal how ready I am. I'm soaking.
I push his briefs down to grasp his naked length. Glorious. Firm, long, and impressively thick.
"Think you can take it," he teases, voice husky with desire.
"Every. Damn. Inch," I promise, squeezing with each word.
"Fuck, you're amazing." His finger works magic on my clit, swirling and flicking.
"I want to feel you inside me," I demand, reason abandoned.
His lips claim mine again as he lifts me onto the sink. He scrapes his teeth down my neck, then sucks at the sensitive skin.
"Line me up, little bench warmer," he growls.
I grasp him, rubbing his tip along my entrance, my legswrapped greedily around his waist. With excruciating slowness, I press his thick head inside.
Our eyes lock as he fills me completely. I've had sex before, but nothing has ever felt like this. His green eyes darken with desire as he breaks contact to watch where we're joined, sliding in and out, my body eagerly taking him again and again.
The intimacy surprises me, emotions soaring higher than I expected.
He leans in, forehead against mine, our breaths mingling. I moan as his thumb circles my clit with perfect pressure. My cheeks flush, inner walls quivering.
"Come for me, Avery. Come all over my cock."
"Yes," I cry, letting go, feeling my arousal coat him as he explodes deep inside me. Wild. Reckless. And with a man I don't even like!
Yet I wanted this. Needed it.
Eventually, we separate. I avoid his gaze as I smooth my skirt and he dresses.
"You good?" he asks, reaching for my cheek again.
I pull back. He's an athlete. I can't do this.
"Yes." My voice is breathless. "That was...just sex."
"Like that kiss was just a kiss?" he challenges.
"That was different?—"
"Public?" he finishes. "Is that the issue? You're fine with this as long as no one sees us together?"
I have no answer that doesn't make me a hypocrite.
My phone pings, saving me. I bend to retrieve it from my bag.
Strong hands grip my hips as his solid frame presses against my backside. I meet his green eyes in the mirror.
"I don't do 'just sex,' little bench warmer. And I don't do secret relationships either." He holds my gaze, gives my ass a playful smack, then walks out.
Holy hell. What just happened?
