Play Along(65)

Isaiah lays back down, his back to the bed. With his palms bracketing my thighs, I brace my hands on his forearms.

The pressure in my lower belly builds fast and heady, ready to spill over. It’s so close, I’m so close. Which has me thinking, why have I never come so easily with someone before? What did I do wrong that I’m doing right this time? Why is it as simple as dry humping this frustratingly charming man?

Why am I in my head right now and why is my impending orgasm leaving me because of it?

A desperate whimper escapes me when the pressure begins to dissolve. I fight to keep it, but my muscles refuse, uncoiling themselves, my breathing evening out as the momentum fades.

“No,” Isaiah refuses. “Give me one. I need one from you. I need to see it.”

His thumb swipes over my panties, right over my clit.

He rubs softs circles there and my hips follow the pattern, the pressure slowly building its way back again.

“Yes,” I hiss through my teeth. “Help me.”

Isaiah slips a single index finger into my thong, right where it narrows, his knuckle grazing the skin just above where I need him touching me most. The moment I’m convinced he’s going to push the fabric out of the way, give himself easier access, he hooks his finger, looping the material and giving himself something to hold on to. Something to guide me.

He pulls my panties towards him, subsequently pulling me, the lace taut and causing delicious friction over my clit.

“Oh my God.” My head falls back from the sensation.

It feels fucking euphoric, having him under me, his finger so close in combination with the rough fabric on my overly sensitive skin.

He moves me, rocks me over his sweatpants, pushing and pulling me by his single finger hooked into my thong.

Like a fucking rein.

And I follow his direction willingly.

“You’re doing so good, baby, fucking yourself on me.” He can hardly get the words out through his ragged breaths. “Use me.”

And I do, I roll and writhe and grind over his length until the pressure boils, spilling over, and my entire body contracts in a blinding orgasm. My eyes are desperate to shut, the release almost unbearable, but I can’t close them. I can’t help but watch the man below me as he watches me, looking at me like he can’t believe he’s seeing me come.

He touches me through it, softly running his hands over my thighs, my stomach, my breasts. He’s soothing and patient as I come down, slumping my entire spent body on his chest.

He holds me. He fucking holds me post-orgasm.

I’ve literally never been held once in my life and now, while riding a high, I’ve got this man’s arms around me and holding me as if he couldn’t bear to let me leave.

And I have to remind myself it’s not the time to get emotional about it.

One day, someone else will see me this way too. I can only hope.

I tuck my face into the crook of his neck as he strokes my hair and wraps a heavy arm around my back, keeping me tight to him.

“You are . . .” He kisses my temple. “. . . the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and I will die a very happy man after getting to witness that.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever come like that.”

“Yeah? Just wait until I get to use my fingers or my mouth on you. Fuck, I’m going to come just thinking about it.”

I chuckle against him, rolling out of his arms and onto my back.

We’re both glistening with a bit of sweat, me from exertion and him from holding himself back. But we lie there, catching our breaths next to one another.

He extends his leg, sprawling out, and that’s when I see it. The wet spot on his pants I knew I was leaving in my wake, as well as his very hard, very present erection that hasn’t been taken care of yet.

His hand slips under his waistband, pumping and tugging, and I’m mesmerized by the way his hand moves, the way his forearm bulges.

“I’ve got to hit the bathroom real quick. Be right back. Don’t you dare leave, or I will find out where you live and drag you back to my bed.”

“I feel like you probably already know where I live.”

The naughty smirk he shoots me screams that he absolutely does.

“Stalker.”

“Miller had to drop something off at your apartment around Christmas and I may have begged to tag along so I could see you. She told me if I came I had to stay in the car though.”

I chuckle. “It was winter in Chicago and you still decided to go with her?”

“It was the off-season. I was desperate to see you.”

He says it as if it’s not the most obvious statement, before sitting up on the edge of the bed to go to the bathroom.

“Wait.” I grab his arm. “Finish here. I want to watch.”

His brow lifts as he looks at me over his shoulder. “Are you going to help me?”

I’m positive my cheeks are crimson red, but still I nod against the pillow.

Isaiah keeps his attention locked on me as he stands from the bed. Big and tall and proud, he runs a single hand through his hair before using the other to wipe across the spot I left on his pants then dipping his hand into his waistband and using it to coat himself.

Holy shit.

My mouth falls open in shock, while this man stands completely unashamed and unaffected by my reaction.