Play Along(64)

His silent chuckle rumbles against me as he does it again, this time closing his mouth over the peak.

Fuck.

“These need to go.” He snaps the elastic material against my skin before slipping a hand under the waistband, curving over my ass, squeezing me in his palm.

My body freezes with a moment of hesitation.

He rolls me onto my back, licking and kissing a path down my stomach. “Tell me to stop, Ken.”

“No.”

He grins against me as he pulls my leggings down in a motion so fluid that it impresses even me. Sitting back on his haunches, he clears them from my ankles and tosses them to the floor.

“Same color.” His attention immediately snags on my matching thong, stroking a thumb over the elastic band.

Yes. Yes, it is.

And now it’s as clear to him as it is to me that I had a plan when I came over.

Did I want to end up here when I knocked on his door tonight? Yes.

Was I perfectly okay if we kept our clothes on and ate spaghetti on his couch if it meant I just got to hang out with him? Also, yes.

Which feels like a problem.

One I can’t think about or diagnose because I’m currently distracted by the giant baseball player laying hot kisses along my stomach as he crawls back up my body, his erection thick and hard against the inside of my thigh.

“You still okay?”

It’s sweet, it is. It’s all so fucking sweet, but even though Isaiah is being so good, so patient with me, part of the reason I knew he was the right man for this job was his experience. I don’t need him to treat me like a fragile bird who might break. I need him to treat me like a woman he can’t get enough of.

I gently run my palm down his face. “We should stop being so fucking polite, don’t you think?”

“Well, it’s either that or me ruining you for all other men, so it’s your choice, wifey.”

“Is that so?” I chuckle.

“You’re the one who wants to date after this. I’m trying to make that possible for you to do so.”

“That sounds like some awfully high expectations you’re putting on yourself.”

His laugh is a little bit evil when he flips us, leaving me straddling him in only my bralette and thong. He pulls at my hair tie to let my hair drop down my back.

“You wanna play, Kenny? Let’s fucking play.”

He smooths his hands over my thighs, gripping my hips and gliding me to rock over his erection.

“Mmm,” I moan. “Do that again.”

“You do it.” He crosses his arms behind his head, an arrogant smile on his lips. “Fuck yourself on me, Ken. Show me what you can do.”

My skin flushes with heat and prickles with anxiety. He’s supposed to be the one in control, showing me, teaching me.

But my body’s natural inclination is to roll my hips and find friction, so I do just that, rolling my entire core over the length of his cock, and it feels fucking incredible.

I drop my hands to anchor on his chest, slowly writhing on him. His sweatpants are light enough that I know, I know he’s going to be able to see just how wet I am. He’s going to be able to see just how much I don’t hate him.

But I don’t care because everything feels so good with him.

So easy. So comfortable.

“God, look at you. So fucking beautiful, rubbing your pussy all over me. Are you going to come like this, Kenny?”

“I think so,” I choke out, rhythmically sliding my clit over the head of his erection.

“Yes, you are. It feels so fucking good. You’re making me so fucking hard. Don’t stop until you come. I need to see it.”

I can see his arm muscles tightening, fighting to stay behind his head. But I don’t want them back there. I want them all over me.

“Isaiah?” My fingernails dig into his pecs. “Will you help me finish?”

His swollen cock pulses beneath me, his eyes closing, as if he needs to try to control himself.

“When have I ever been able to say no to you?”

It’s the same question he asked the morning after we said some drunken vows. This time with a little less bite and a whole lot more struggle through hard-earned breaths.

His hands find my waist before curling around my back, smoothly running up and down the length of my spine. “I . . .” He shakes his head. “I cannot believe you’re here. I feel so fucking lucky.” He palms my breasts, thumbs tracing circles over my peaked nipples, under the lace of my bralette. “And these . . . these are fucking perfect.”

My boobs? No, they’re not. Far from perfect, in fact. Fairly small and uneven, but goddamn do they look perfect in his hands.

Isaiah sits up with me in his lap, bringing his mouth to mine for a quick kiss. Then he whispers in my ear while his hands slide around to my ass, pushing and pulling, guiding me to rock over him.

“I have never ever been more turned on than I am by you, Kennedy Kay. By this little matching set you wore for me. By your fucking hair bouncing down your back every time you writhe on my cock, and I have never, never been more turned on than I am right now, knowing you’re going to come all over me, and I haven’t even had the pleasure of properly touching you yet.”

He drags his hands down my outer thighs.

He whispers more encouragement as we both look down to watch me move over him. “That’s it. You’re doing so good for me, Kenny. God, that feels fucking amazing.”