Playing, p.2
Playing, page 2
"What?"
"Women don't usually offer water."
"That's bad strategy."
"Yeah?"
"You need to stay hydrated if you want peak performance."
He chuckles. "True."
"You keep laughing."
"With you."
"With me?"
"I promise. I like you, Iris." He takes a long sip and sets his glass on the table. He moves toward me. Closer. Closer.
There.
He peels my fingers from my glass and sets it on the counter.
His hands go to my hips.
He leans in close.
My eyelids flutter together.
I rise to my tiptoes and press my lips to his.
He tastes good. Like whiskey. Fuck, it's been too long since I've really savored a sip.
Or a kiss.
He slides one hand under my blouse and presses his palm against my lower back.
He pulls me closer.
Sucks on my bottom lip. Softly. Then harder.
I bring my hand to his hair. Part my lips to make way for his tongue.
Lust pushes aside every other desire. I don't want good whiskey. Or understanding. Or dinner.
I only want this tall, handsome stranger's body pressed against mine. Erasing every thought in my head.
I slide my hand under his t-shirt. He's hard. Strong.
My hand explores the lines of his torso.
The other knots in his hair.
Desire spreads through my body as his tongue dances with mine.
As he peels off my leather jacket and tosses it on the coffee table.
He cups my breasts with his palm. Slides his thumb into my bra to play with my nipple.
Fuck.
This is intense. It's different like this. Good different. But scary different too.
Slowly, he backs me into the wall.
He pins me with his hips. His tongue plays with mine. His thumb toys with my nipples, one then the other.
I don't know his last name.
And I don't care.
Some free, uninhibited Iris is taking over. No, I know that Iris. It's just she usually only comes out after four or five shots.
He pulls back.
I stare into his eyes. "Bedroom."
He nods. Steps backward to release me.
I move through the living room.
My bedroom is small, but it's nice. I flip the switch for the string lights. The soft glow of the white paper lanterns bounces off my plain grey bedspread and sheets. Off my Ikea vanity and dresser.
They make the room feel homey.
Comfortable.
Like a place for old lovers.
Walker shuts the bedroom door and leans against it. His dark eyes pass over me. He drinks me in.
His eyes find mine. "Take off your jeans."
"What?"
"Your jeans. Lose them."
"No." I press my lips together. Where the hell is this objection coming from? This guy is hot as hell and he's already setting me on fire. I very much want to lose my jeans.
"No?"
"I don't do that."
"You have sex with your pants on?"
"No. I don't do the whole guy barking orders thing." That was Ross's thing. It was always weird. Awkward.
His voice gets light. "Barking?"
"Yeah." I can't help but laugh. Okay, he isn't exactly barking, but the point stands. I copy his posture.
It doesn't work standing.
I sit on the bed and spread my legs in that blow me position guys love.
"Take off your jeans," I demand.
His eyes brighten. "Not sure I need to for that."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He takes another step toward me. Drops to his knees between my legs.
"You… you're not one of those guys who doesn't—"
"Fuck no." He presses his palms against my thighs and pushes my legs apart. "You're gonna have to pull me away."
"Yeah?" My tongue slides over my lips. My limbs get light. It's been a long, long time since I've come from someone's mouth.
Longer since I've enjoyed it.
He undoes the button of my jeans. His eyes meet mine. "I don't bark orders."
"Then what was—"
"A request." He looks up at me. "Lift your hips."
"And that's a request?"
"I can't do this with your jeans on."
"True." I lift my hips.
He unzips my jeans and rolls them to my knees. My ankles.
His fingertips skim my skin as he drags his hands up my calves, my knees, my thighs.
His fingers curl into the straps of my thong.
Genius decision. Thank you, past Iris. For once, we're on the same page.
"You're not into dirty talk?" he asks.
"I am. Just not—"
"Ruff. Ruff."
What? I stare back at him.
"That's barking."
I laugh. "You know what I mean."
"I do." He nips at my inner thigh. "Would you like to come on my face?"
"You're teasing me, aren't you?"
He laughs. "Yeah. You're fun to tease." His voice drops. "I'll have to see how fun."
He tugs at the straps of my thong then slides the garment to my ankles.
"I mean it, Iris." He brings his hands to my hips and pulls me to the edge of the bed. "You're gonna have to drag me away."
I try to find a response, but I don't have anything. I want it. Him. Everything.
He plants a kiss on the inside of my knee.
I pull my blouse over my head and toss it aside.
Then the bra.
My breath hitches as he drags his lips up my thigh.
Fuck. I'm already buzzing with anticipation.
"Lie back," he mumbles into my thigh. It's softer, but it's still demanding. Needy.
Like he really is desperate to dive between my legs.
I fall onto my back.
Slowly, he brings his mouth to me.
My hand goes to his dark, wavy hair. It's the perfect length for grabbing.
He pins my legs to the bed as he licks me from bottom to top then top to bottom.
He's takes his time.
Like he's savoring it.
Like he—
Fuck.
He flicks his tongue against my clit.
My legs fight his hands.
He pins me harder. He pries my thighs apart. Keeps them pressed against the edge of the bed.
It's strange, feeling this vulnerable with some guy I barely know.
Good.
But strange.
Every flick of his tongue pushes away my concerns. My nerves fade. I forget that I barely know him. I forget the last few months. And the three years before that. I forget everything but his soft, wet mouth against me.
Mmm.
I tug at his hair.
Buck my hips against his mouth.
He holds me in place. Groans against me. Licks me hard. Soft. Fast. Slow. Up. Down. Left. There.
"Fuck." My thighs fight his hands.
He scrapes his nails against my skin. He has me pinned. He's in control. I shouldn't like it—I never like that kind of thing—but I do.
"Walker." I buck against his mouth.
He stays on just the spot. Licks me with long, soft strokes. Then harder. Harder.
There.
"Don't stop," I breathe.
He doesn't.
He keeps that same rhythm. That same speed.
Tension pools in my sex.
It's intense. Different. Good different.
He takes me higher. Winds me tighter. I tug at his hair, holding his mouth against me.
Almost.
There.
The next flick of his tongue pushes me over the edge.
I groan his name as I come.
My sex pulses. Everything goes white, this beautiful, bright, blinding shade of pleasure. It's the only thing in my world. The only thing in the universe.
He's still going.
Licking me with those hard, steady strokes.
It's intense. Too intense.
I tug at his hair. "Fuck me. Now."
He pulls away. Nips at my thigh. Pushes himself to his feet.
I watch as he tosses his t-shirt over his head.
Pulls a condom from his back pocket.
Unzips his jeans and slides them—and his boxers—to his feet.
Fuck.
He's big.
And it's been a long time.
He stares down at me as he tears the wrapper and slides the condom over his cock. "Turn over."
I stare back at him.
"Please." His voice is heavy. Needy. Like he's not sure if he wants to tease me or tease me.
I push myself up.
He brings his hands to my legs. Helps me flip over. Onto my hands and knees.
I plant my feet on the floor. Arch my back to bring my ass into the air.
"Fuck, Iris." He drags his fingertips over my sex. "You always get this wet?"
My response is a groan.
God, that's hot. How can five words be that hot?
He teases me with one finger.
Then two.
I clutch at the sheets to stay upright.
That feels good.
Too good.
I need him inside me. His fingers. His cock. His everything.
I need it too much. The way I used to need—
"You like it rough?" He slides one finger inside me. Then two.
Fuck.
My eyelids flutter together.
I rock my hips. Rise onto my tiptoes.
How do I like it?
I don't even know.
I always went along with whatever Ross wanted.
He pushes his fingers inside me. It's slow. Deep. Intense.
"Slow at first." I swallow hard. How does he talk about this stuff so casually?
I mean, I appreciate his excellent communication skills.
And how much his dirty talk sets me on fire.
But I can't return it. Not with that kind of confidence.
"Then harder." I rock my hips.
He murmurs a yes as he drives his fingers inside me.
It feels good. But I need more.
"Fuck me," I breathe.
"This first." He drives his fingers into me. Again. Again. Again.
It pushes me toward the edge.
Fills me with this strange mix of satisfaction and need.
It's good.
But I need him inside me.
"Walker. Please." I arch my hips. Heel—toe my feet to spread my legs. "I need you inside me."
He lets out a low heavy groan and brings his hands to my hips. He holds me steady as he brings his body onto mine.
His tip strains against me.
Desire floods my senses. Yes. More. Everything.
He pulls back and does it again.
Again.
Again.
I dig my fingers into the sheets. I rise onto my tiptoes. I get dizzy from anticipation.
"More." I push aside my inhibitions. "Harder."
His fingers dig into my hips.
He thrusts into me full force.
Fuck. He's big. It's intense. But good intense.
He holds me in place as he pulls back and drives into me again.
Again.
He fills me with deep, steady thrusts.
Each winds me up. Each sends bliss to my fingers and toes.
He slides one hand around my hip and plants it between my legs.
He rubs my clit with his thumb as he drives into me.
Damn. That's intense.
He's good at this.
Way too good at this.
It defies explanation.
But then logic isn't all that interesting at the moment.
I…
He…
His thumb finds just the right spot.
"There," I breathe.
His groans fill the room as he drives into me. As he rubs me right where I need him.
He's bringing me all this pleasure. And it's making him groan. And he…
Fuck.
His name rolls off my lips.
It makes his groan lower. Louder.
The tension in my sex builds with every thrust and brush of his thumb.
It winds tighter and tighter.
"Harder," I breathe.
He digs his nails into my thigh as he drives into me. Harder. Faster. Deeper.
Mmm.
A few more thrusts and I'm there.
All that tension winds tighter than I can take. Then everything releases.
A wave of pleasure rocks through me.
My sex pulses. It pulls him closer. Makes him groan.
I moan his name as I come.
My grip on the sheets releases. My arms go slack.
"On your back." He pushes me flat on the bed.
I spread my arms. My legs. Arch my back.
He places his body on top of mine. One hand on my hip. The other on my shoulder.
With one quick motion, he drives inside me.
The weight of him pushes me into the bed.
It feels good. Safe. Comforting.
It's just physical. Just sex. It doesn't mean anything. You're never going to see him again.
I can't push the thoughts away.
This is too intimate. Too good.
I rock my hips to meet him.
He drives into me.
His movements get faster.
He loses control of his breath. Pulls me closer. Groans into my neck.
He's almost there.
And I need him there.
"Come for me." The words fall off my lips. A wave of nerves follow, but they disappear with his next thrust.
I can dirty talk.
At least when it's someone I'll never see again.
It makes him groan.
And go harder.
And pull me closer.
A few more thrusts and he's there. He shakes and shudders and groans my name as he comes.
He pulses inside me.
It's satisfying in a way it never has been.
Slowly, Walker peels his body off mine. "You have a trash can?"
"Yeah." I motion to the one next to my bed. "There's tissues—"
"I see them."
He takes care of the condom then plants on the bed next to me.
I roll onto my elbow and look up at him.
His dark eyes are so pretty.
His everything is so pretty. Not that he's really pretty. He's more handsome. Exactly handsome. Exactly halfway between rugged and pretty.
He brushes my hair behind my ear. "You want to go for round two?"
"You can?"
His laugh is soft. "I need ten minutes."
I nod. Yes. Round two is a good idea. And maybe three.
But that's it.
Tonight.
Only tonight.
Chapter Three
Iris
There are arms around me.
Warm, strong arms.
My eyes blink open.
Bright light flows through the blinds.
The arms turn me over.
That's him. Walker. He pushes himself up. Stretches said arms over his head as he yawns.
He looks even more irresistible with the late morning light falling over his chiseled torso.
His dark eyes fix on mine. "Sleep. It's early."
I nod to the window. "How early?"
"For a Sunday." He grabs his jeans from the floor and pulls them on. "I have to go. Work." He pulls his t-shirt over his head, covering that perfect torso.
I want to trace all the lines of his ink. Again.
I want…
I want to get up. To make him coffee. And breakfast. Which is ridiculous. I can't cook to save my life.
Does pouring milk into cereal count as making someone breakfast?
Does a guy this cut even eat carbs?
I swallow hard. What the hell do I say here? "It was fun." Amazing. The best sex I've had in forever. Or maybe ever. Definitely ever.
"Yeah. It was." He leans over the bed and presses his lips to my forehead. "Sleep tight, Iris."
I nod. "The front door locks automatically." Look at me, one-night stand expert. I make a mental note to high-five someone, but there isn't anyone I want to share this with. Only Lily.
My eyelids flutter together.
The door opens and closes.
I have that appointment.
I have to get up soon.
But not yet.
I pull the covers over my head.
And I let my head fill with memories of his body against mine.
* * *
The apartment smells like coffee. Good coffee.
I push myself up. Slowly, I peel off the covers, step onto the hardwood, and move into the main room.
Sure enough, there's coffee warming on the counter.
And there's a note next to it. Pen on a piece of paper.
Call me if you want to go again.
- Walker
And there's his number.
It's not exactly a profession of undying love.
It's an open invitation to booty call.
I want to sleep with him again.
God how I want to sleep with him again.
But that's far too dangerous.
I like him.
I don't want to like him.
I don't want to give anyone the chance to hurt me again.
I tear the note in half and drop it in the trash under the sink.
Chapter Four
Walker
"You smell like pussy." Dean smiles wide. It's his usual I'm going to turn everyone's life upside down smile.
The guy's been my closest friend for ten years now, and I'm still not sure when he's serious and when he's fucking with me.
"And?" I move to the hand sink in the back and turn it on.
Dean follows. "And you've been finished for two minutes without offering details."
"Guess I'm not as depraved as you." I run the water warm and pump soap into my hands.
"You'll get there."
I rinse. Towel dry. Turn off the faucet. "We all need goals." Not that I have any at the moment. I have everything I want. I'm a co-owner. The shop is kicking ass. I spend my days putting ink to people's skin and my nights enjoying the women of the greater Los Angeles area.
Life is good.
Except for shit with Bree.
But that's staying in the corner of my mind.
I'm done picking up the pieces.
I'm done hoping she'll give a fuck about getting better.
I'm done, period.
