Page 46 of Playing for Keeps

The sight draws me in like a snake charmer in reverse, the snake charming the fuck out of me. I move close and touch him and he wraps an arm around me, trapping my hand on his cock between us. I don’t mind at all when he grabs a handful of my hair and pulls me in for a hard kiss, punishing me for something or other, for being a reporter, the enemy. His other hand cups my ass, sending a chill of want through me.

“Take it easy with that hand, Chloe. I want to come inside you tonight.” He talks in between nibbles on my lips, his breathing raspy, or maybe that’s my breathing, all uneven and desperate. True to my form, I squeeze him tighter, slide my thumb over his leaking tip and want it in my mouth bad. He sucks in a breath and clamps his hand over mine, separating us.

“You’re on birth control?”

Nodding, my pulse thudding in my head, I removing my hand from his cock. He brings it to my panties and we both pull them down my thighs while he unhooks my bra with his other hand. And now I’m naked, watching him pull his shorts off in one quick athletic movement.

“You’re spectacular,” I say. “I must have been a real good girl in another lifetime to have ended up here with you right now.” The words tumble out because I’m off filter, off the record, and off my rocker with delirious desire.

“You don’t fool me,” he says, taking me in his arms again, skin to skin now from top to bottom and I revel in the heat and silky hard feel of him, the rough hairs of his chest against mine, his scalding cock pressed squarely against my pussy and reaching up to my belly button. The idea of him being inside me sends my heart palpitating and my insides bubbling with mindless greedy lust.

“Fool you?” I’m not comprehending him, his words second to the feel of him as he pushes me back onto the bed, the glorious weight of him enveloping me, consuming me, taking up all the sensory capacity I have. He grows in my mind, becoming my universe, shrinking everything else there is down to nothing.

He’s kissing my face, my eyes, my nose, my temple, and my lips, worshipping me with his mouth and tongue as he talks in an urgent whisper.

“You know how fucking good you are. Right now. Good enough to eat.” His words make me shiver as he trails his kisses down my body and I caress his head, running my fingers through his thick silky hair, his shoulders, anything I can touch as he slides down further, kissing my navel and then nuzzling his open, ravenous mouth between my legs.

Crying out, I clamp my hand in his hair and arch up to him. He chuckles and I can feel his fucking gorgeous dimples as he slides his hands under my ass and literally raises me off the bed, holding me like a feast in front of his mouth as he kneels in front of me. We watch each other as he licks, long and slow and my legs quiver. He’s so strong, holding me in place as he sucks on me, then flicks his tongue exactly where I’m begging him to.

“Oh . . . God . . . Fontanna . . . yes . . . yes . . . don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.” I ramble in between moans, my hands gripping his hair, pressing his face into me. He bites down, the explosive sharp pressure making me scream at the pain-pleasure as the spiral starts at my core and every muscle in me tenses and my legs clench, squeezing him between me. But he doesn’t stop sucking and flicking and nibbling the nub of my clit as it pulses wildly in wave after wave and I moan and call his name like it’s a prayer.

“Tate . . . oh Tate.” The shuddering inside of me takes a long time to stop as he releases me and moves up on top of me, holding me in his arms, kissing my sweaty temples as I bury my face in his chest. My breathing still hard, I feel his cock stir between us and the need for him inside me burns through the post orgasmic haze.

“Your passion is so mind-blowing,” he says and I laugh.

“You are the mind-blowing one. But I confess, I need more from you.”

“Is that right?” He presses his cock between my legs. I nod, opening my legs wide under him.

“Yes. I need you inside me. Right now.” I reach my hand down and pull his tip to my slick opening and thrust my hips forward, sliding him inside me a little way. He groans loud.

“Fuck, Chloe.” The strain in his voice excites me as much as the feel of him filling me as he moves. I arch up and reach around to hold his ass and pull him in all the way as hard as I can, the mindless conquering need in me heedless of anything, of everything but owning him, having him become part of me right now.

“I want you so much,” I say, not caring what the words mean, only knowing I mean them.

“Sweet Jesus . . .” His throaty voice drives me wild and I move my hips to meet his thrust. He drags himself back out slowly and I grit my teeth, feeling every last cell of his long hard cock sliding through me. And when his tip comes out, he brushes my clit with it and I cry out and shove it back inside my dripping pussy. I slam my hips up against his fast and hard, urging him on, feeling him hit up against my wall, filling me so completely, leaving nothing inside me untouched. Not even my heart.

Moving in and out now in a frantic rhythm, gasping like we’re running for our lives, slamming our hips together, slapping our sweaty skin, the climb of my tension is feverish with an intensity I’ve never felt before, my nerves tightening to a pinpoint of excruciating pleasure, then an explosion that’s so massive it’s like a vaporizing nothingness, a flash, and then blackout for an instant, then the relentless crashing waves of scintillating seizures as I cry out.

Shuddering uncontrollably, as he groans my name and shoves into me with a ferocious clench and release that sends in a shooting warmth, another layer of pleasure washes over me. He murmurs my name and takes my mouth with his, sealing the devastating moment between us, the moment where we bare our souls, becoming vulnerable enough to join as one, feel part of each other.

He lies on top of me, holding me for a long while, our breathing gradually returning to normal, his kisses coming to a stop until he raises himself off me, shifting to the side, still holding me.

“Chloe . . .” He trails off without finishing his thought, but his eyes say more.

“I know.” I tighten my arms around him, giving him everything my eyes can show, down to my soul, communicating the specialness of this moment to me. Telling him how special he is to me.

“You probably do know,” he says with a lopsided one-dimple smile that melts me into heaven, into a crazy Tate-induced giddy state that I’ve never known before.

“I know how I feel—”

“Satisfied,” he says, cutting me off. And there it is. Fear. He doesn’t want to hear how I really feel. But I’m going to tell him anyway.

“That and giddy too. Happy. Over-the-moon crazy about you.”

He smiles, but I see the wariness in his eyes. There are no dimples.

“Don’t get carried away.”

“Too late. I already have. And,” I pause for dramatic effect. “I’m pretty sure I’ve taken you with me.”

Now he laughs. “I admit I have a warm fuzzy feeling that I wouldn’t have thought possible concerning you. So I must be crazy.”

“That’s quite a concession speech. You sure you weren’t a politician in a past life?”

He laughs again, giving me a double-dimple grin, totally disarmed, vulnerable and adorable. I’m about to tell him I adore him, but I stop myself. That’s one step too far, Chloe. Be reckless to the point of the edge, but do not go over that line.