Page 42 of Played
I glare at him. Condescending jackass. “I top now.”
He smirks, tightening his grip on my neck. “Not with me, baby.”
There’s no time to tell him to go to hell because his mouth crashes against mine. He drags me closer and his tongue is in my mouth while his free hand is on my ass, and it all feels so fucking good that I go with it, melting into him and letting him kiss and touch me like he owns me.
How the helldid I wind up naked in bed with a man I’m supposed to hate hovering over me, his cock slick with lube because he’s about to fuck me. He works his finger inside me, opening me up, and I groan at the unfamiliar sensation.
His hot mouth rests against my ear. “How long has it been since you let someone fuck you, Mase?”
I hiss out a breath. “Eighteen years.”
“Jesus fuck,” he mutters, running his nose over the back of my neck. “Am I the only one?”
I don’t answer. Admitting that to him makes it sound like he was special, and although he was, neither of us need to be reminded of that.
He presses a soft kiss beneath my ear. “Am I?” His tone has lost all of that cocky arrogance, and maybe that’s what makes me tell him yes.
“Spread a little wider for me.” Full of impatience, he nudges my thighs apart with his knees before I have a chance to comply. And then his chest is flush against my back, pressing me into themattress while I tremble with anticipation. “Relax, baby. I know exactly how you like to be fucked.”
“The fuck—” My retort is cut off by a loud moan as he finds my prostrate and massages it with expert fingers.
“Yeah, you like that, baby. I remember.”
I remember too. And it’s too much and also not enough.
We shouldn’t do this.
But it’s only once. I can give into this one time. And then we’ll go back to being barely civil colleagues. “Fuck me, King.”
“Oh, baby. I love it when you beg for me.” He drops a kiss on my neck and pulls his fingers out of me. The crown of his thick cock nudges at my ass. Somewhere in the darkest recesses of my consciousness, the place where I keep all my memories of King, I remember how to breathe through the burning pleasure of that first push inside me. Recall how to relax my muscles so that he slides in without resistance.
“Fuck, Mase.” He rests his lips in the crook of my neck. “You feel good. So. Fucking. Good, baby.” He sinks all the way inside, and his hips slam against my ass.
His forearms are on either side of my head, pillars of muscle lined with thick veins. I drag in a harsh breath as the pleasurable sensations wash over me. He feels good too. As good as I remember. “Jesus fuck.” I grit out the words as he slides out and sinks back in.
He grunts in my ear and nails me to the bed, pushing me closer to the edge with every move he makes. My aching cock rubs against the duvet, grinding into the soft material with each thrust of his hips.
He sinks his teeth into the muscle at the nape of my neck. I’m going to come. Fucker is going to make me come like this, with his cock stuffed in my ass and his mouth on me. My entire body trembles. “That’s it, baby boy,” he groans. “You’re gonna come for me.”
“Fuck!” I bite down on my pillow as the orgasm slams into me with the force of a fifty-ton truck.
“Good boy.”
I should tell him to go to hell for calling me that, but I don’t care. I’m fucking boneless. Melting into the bed as he grinds his own release into me. When he’s done, he rests his head between my shoulder blades and catches his breath, skating his fingers along my ribcage. The same way he used to.
The moment is way too intimate. Way too familiar. Too much of what we absolutely cannot be. He must sense it as well because he grumbles something unintelligible before pulling out of me and jumping out of bed.
I roll onto my back while he gets rid of the condom. The familiarity is already gone, replaced by an awkward silence that neither of us appears to know how to break. It’s King who finally speaks. “I should go.”
That’s definitely for the best. I have no idea what we were thinking, letting ourselves get carried away like that. “Your clothes will be dry. I’ll go get them.”
He shakes his head. “No.”
His tone is harsh and clipped and I wince at my own stupidity. Should never have opened the goddamn door to him.
“I’ll go get them. And then…” He glances over his shoulder at me. “I’ll get out of your hair and let you get yourself cleaned up.”
His desire to leave so quickly stings more than I expected it would. As for me getting cleaned up, I’m not sure anything in this world could cleanse me of King. He doesn’t look at me again before he walks out of the room, and I try my best not to stare at his annoyingly fine ass as he does. I don’t get up to use the shower until I hear the elevator doors and I’m certain he’s gone. Was I hoping he’d come back? No, of course not.
