Page 7 of Play With Me
I shove him, and he stumbles back, another laugh exiting his mouth.
“Don’t fucking laugh,” I growl, progressing forward, knocking into him again, but he just jumps out of the way, his lithe, muscular body eluding me.
“Try it again,” he eggs me on with a laugh as he dodges to the right, tripping me with his foot.
I stumble forward, and before I know it, he’s wrapped around my back. With a grunt and a yank, I’m falling backward on the bed, right against him. His legs are twined around mine, his left forearm around my neck, his hand tangled in my hair.
I’m arched back and immobile as he holds onto me.
Fuck, I knew this would happen, knew he’d get the better of me, but I did it anyway.
“Gotcha,” he says. “But you wanted this to happen, didn’t you? You wanted a reason to come back. To see if I’d get you off again.”
“Hell no.”
He bites down on my ear roughly, and I jerk up, only succeeding in allowing him to tighten his hold on me. My fingernails dig into his forearm, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest.
“You fighting only makes it harder to let you go.”
I grumble with frustration, and he laughs darkly. He’s fucking evil. I’m sure of it.
“You want it again?” he asks as I attempt to pull his arm from my neck. “Say please, and I’ll do it.”
“I’m not saying please,” I grit out.
“You just did.”
His hand leaves my hair and drags down my chest, tweaking my nipples through my shirt as he goes. Sensation travels through me, and I find myself shivering.
“Never been with a guy before, but I wonder if maybe I’ve been missing out. It’s fun being a little rough, not always having to worry about being soft and gentle.”
He twists harder, and I grunt, bucking in his hold, but his legs just spread mine wider, my shorts riding up my thighs.
“Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispers, and once again, I attempt to do just that, but those words get stuck in my throat.
“You can’t do it. You fucking want it.”
His hand slides past the waistband of my shorts, and my stomach contracts as I feel his fingers wrap around my dick.
“Nhhg,” I hiss, and he chuckles darkly as he slides his hand from base to tip, letting his thumb brush against the slit.
“You’re gonna leave here with your boxers full of cum. Just like you did last night. It’s turning into a bit of a habit, don’t you think?”
He strokes me again, and I hold on to him tighter.
“You like it, don’t you? Me touching you?”
“I hate it,” I hiss, and he huffs a laugh as he strokes me again. Tighter. Rougher.
“I hate it too. Hate that you showed up here without an invitation and stuck your dick in my hand.”
“I didn’t do that,” I counter, and then groan when he twists his wrist slightly.
“You might as well have. You were begging for it. With your eyes. With your mouth. And with your cock.”
He strokes me faster, and a moan I’ve been swallowing back erupts from my mouth, making me blush, my entire body turning hot.
I struggle against him, but he holds on tighter, making me wheeze, making my dick leak.
