Page 250 of Rock Me All Night
He slides the controller into my hands. "Try it."
"I'll be terrible."
"It's easy." He drags his fingertips over my shoulder, stopping at the straps of my tank top. "And I need my hands back."
It's warm in here. It didn't feel this warm two minutes ago, but all of a sudden it's way too hot to be wearing clothing.
"It's a fun game," he says. "And the villain looks just like Aidan, our manager. He has a suit and a ponytail and this pompous fake accent. Actually, the villain is lot more pleasant than Aidan."
"That's very special."
He pulls the strap of my tank top down my shoulder. "You're a Lombax with a robot best friend." His hand goes to the controller and he presses a few buttons. "Triangle to switch guns. O to shoot. X to jump. Kill the bad guys. You know they're bad because they're big and ugly."
His hand goes back to my waist. He plays with the bottom of my tank top, pushing it up my stomach. His lips flutter against my neck.
"Drew," I breathe. "I'm not going to have any concentration available to play this game."
He slides his hand under my tank top. "Why is that?"
"Gee, I wonder why." Concentration is a distant memory. My body is kicking my brain out of the driver's seat, and it's going to be one hell of a ride.
Drew laughs. He presses his lips against my neck. It's a soft kiss and it sends a shock wave straight to my core.
"You'll appreciate it later." He slides my tank top up my stomach and over my chest and head.
It falls in a heap on the floor.
Drew drags his fingertips over my arms. He pulls my hands from the controller and tosses it onto the floor. It skids until it hits my tank top. Quite the combination—video games and Drew. But, then, anything and Drew is an excellent combination.
I close my eyes and exhale deeply. My body relaxes into his. He lifts my ass and pulls my pajama pants to my knees. They fall to my feet. Another heap on the floor.
His fingertips trace the edge of my panties.
"I like these new rules." His voice is thick with desire.
I rub my ass against him. "What rules?"
He drags his fingertip over my sex, pressing the fabric of my panties against me. "Touching you whenever I want." His thumb is pressed against my clit. "Wherever I want." He drags his other hand up my waist and over my chest. "However I want."
Uh-huh. I have the faintest sense that this is important, but it's awfully hard to think with his hands on my body.
I force myself to concentrate on his words. "Is that right?" I ask.
"Yes, it is." He tugs at my panties.
"And what if we're at the bank? Are you going to start fingering me in line?"
He pulls my panties to my knees. His teeth scrape against my neck. "Why would we be at the bank?"
"The store, the beach, whatever."
His fingertips slide over my inner thighs. There's not a hint of self-consciousness left in my body. I want these rules. I want Drew touching me anywhere, everywhere, any way he wants.
"If that's what I want." His thumb rubs against my clit. "Then, yeah. In line at the bank, at the beach, in a club, in my car. Anywhere."
Pleasure builds inside me. He's making a convincing argument. I've spent a long time not being touched and now Drew wants to touch me anywhere, everywhere, all the time.
It would be criminal not to agree.
