Shutout (Rules of the Game, #2)(76)
“Your pussy is so pretty, baby.” He strokes me again. “All pink and wet.”
One broad palm settles on my lower back, holding me firmly in place as his other hand works between my legs, skillfully teasing until I’m trembling against him. He brings me close to orgasm over and over again, but he won’t let me come. It’s a carefully executed pattern of building and sudden withdrawal that leaves me more frustrated with each repetition. If he keeps this up, they’re going to hear me upstairs no matter how loud the video games are.
He reduces me to a quaking mess as I claw at the sheets and arch my back, frantic with need. Cold air skirts my skin as he stops touching me entirely, which is the opposite of what I’m trying to achieve.
“Ty.” I whine, wriggling shamelessly.
“Tell me how much you want my cock.”
Without hesitating, I say, “I want your cock.”
Two fingers plunge inside me, and I gasp at the sudden fullness as he thrusts them deeper. My nerves light up, core clenching. If he can just keep doing that a little longer…
“Ah.” He tsks. “You do want it.”
When he pulls away, I nearly grab his hand and force it back. Then I hear the clang of his belt, the ripping of foil, and he’s behind me. Strong fingers span my waist and dig into my hips, roughly yanking them higher. My breath catches as he thrusts inside, shoving me into the mattress with his hand twined in my hair.
I cry out, muffled by the bedding. At this angle, he’s even deeper than usual, impossibly hard and thick as he stretches me. Each thrust steals the air from my lungs, probably because it feels like he’s almost hitting them.
“Fuck, Ser. I wish you could see how good you look right now.”
He finds my clit, expertly stroking as his hips push forward into me again. In no time, I unravel around him, my walls clenching as I bury my pleas in his pillow. My knees shake as the last of the pleasure fades out, and I sag against the bed to keep myself upright.
Rather than let me recover, he keeps going, and another orgasm starts to build in my center almost immediately. Placing my wrists behind my back, I offer them to him in a show of unspoken submission. He lets out a low, feral growl of approval and pins them together with one hand. His other hand wraps around my shoulder, pinning me down against the bed, and his movements pick up speed, hitting deeper.
The sound of our bodies slapping together fills the room, interspersed with grunts and groans, moans and whimpers. Unlike last night, which was soft and slow, he’s fucking me—hard.
“Good job,” he praises, sinking deeper. “You take my dick so well.”
Pleasure seizes hold of my body and my legs tremble, my voice failing. I can’t respond. All I can do is hold on for dear life while he owns me at a punishing pace, unleashing a string of praise alternating with dirty talk that would make even me blush under other circumstances.
As the delicious tension in my core winds even tighter, I feel myself approach the point of no return. He releases my hands and seizes me by the waist, pulling me into him. I fist the bedding, my calves quivering. It’s even more overwhelming than the first time. It’s good, almost too good, and I never want it to end.
“Ty.” Air fills my lungs with a sharp gasp, my hips jolting. “Oh, god. I’m coming. Come with me, please.”
That earns me another spank that echoes through the air, this one hard enough to sting. He groans my name, slamming into me one more time. His body lurches forward, and his heavy frame covers mine, pushing me into the mattress as we both come undone.
“Fuck.” Breathing heavily, he collapses over me. He husks a laugh, burying his face in my neck. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Maybe.” As the last ebbs of my orgasm fade away, giddiness overtakes me, and I burst into a fit of laughter. I can only assume it’s a peculiar side effect of orgasming so hard that I nearly blacked out. Factoring in my legs like jelly, he’s reduced me to a giggly, jiggly pile of goo.
Gentle kisses land along my shoulder, traveling up the curve of my neck. He nuzzles my cheek. “How are you doing? Talk to me, Tink.”
Another burst of laughter escapes my lips, partially muted by the pillow beneath me. I don’t even know why I’m laughing. I’ve heard of people crying after sex—something about disinhibition within certain parts of the brain—but never giggling uncontrollably. For some reason, I can’t stop.
“I’m sorry.” I lift my head, my eyes filling with tears. “I think you broke my brain.”
“Damn right I did.”
We untangle ourselves and he helps clean me up, his touch suddenly tender and careful and sweet. You’d never guess he was uttering filthy, nearly unspeakable things to me only moments ago.
Pulling me to him on his bed, he kisses my temple and runs his fingers through my hair from root to end. I nestle into his chest, happy and tired, willfully ignoring the outside world.
After a few more minutes, I whisper, “I should sneak back upstairs before they notice something is up.”
“Yeah.” But he doesn’t let me go.
I’m not in a hurry to leave, either. After a few more minutes, I know I have to. Stealing another quick kiss, we part ways and I dart into the bathroom to fix my hair. Or I try to—because when I open Tyler’s door, Siobhan is standing at the bottom of the stairs holding a case of coolers.