Page 43 of Playing the Field

“That’s it,” I encourage her, my voice low and rough. “Come on my cock. Squeeze every drop of cum from me with that tight little cunt.”

A blazing inferno erupts inside me, and I can’t hold it back anymore. My lips crash against hers, swallowing her scream. My tongue invades her mouth, stroking against hers and curving up to trace the roof of her mouth. The muscles in my arms and lower back burn from overuse as I hover just above her, thrusting roughly.

Her release barrels through her, causing her pussy to clamp down hard around me. The walls throb rhythmically as she comes, sending me over the edge. “Fuck,” I grind out as my cock swells and I come with a groan, my release filling her.

I collapse onto her chest, still supporting most of my weight with my hands, my cock still throbbing every so often inside her. With each pulse, her walls flutter around me, carrying me higher into the bliss this moment has created. We might be a sweaty mess of limbs and release, but it’s the most content I’ve been in a long time.

Ana nuzzles into the side of my neck, her breaths still quick and uneven. “That was better than I remembered,” she whispered softly.

I let out a chuckle, wrapping my arms around her and twisting until we’re both on our sides and her back is tucked against my front. I’m still semi-hard and able to keep my cock inside her as I drape an arm across her waist, splaying my hand possessively across her stomach. “It was definitely the elevator,” I murmur against her hair.

“Fucking elevators,” she grumbles, but I can hear the smile in her voice.

After a few minutes, her breathing evens out and slows down. Her shoulders relax and her backside presses back into me with a slight pressure. I know she’s asleep, I can tell by the way her profile has relaxed in the dim light. My fingers itch to brush across her soft skin, but I keep them still. I’m not sure if she’s a light sleeper or not, and I don’t want to wake her now.

My cock twitches lightly, still semi-hard inside her, but I make no moves to slip out. The feel of her warm cunt around me is sublime, and I don’t want to lose the feeling. I could stay like this for the rest of my life and not complain once.

The thought ricochets through me, sending a bolt of panic straight through to my core.

I’m in too deep now, and I’m afraid there isn’t a way out for me.

My fingers flex along the soft skin of her side, pulling her closer to my chest as I bury my nose in her hair. I inhale deeply, savoring the floral scent of her shampoo, and let my mind drift off with my cock still buried inside her.

I don’t know how long I lie there, my body molded to hers, my mind caught somewhere between exhaustion and reluctant awareness. Her warmth seeps into me, her soft breaths brushing against my arm where it drapes over her waist, keeping her pressed against me.

I don’t want to move.

Hell, I don’t even want to think.

But the thoughts are there, unwelcome and unavoidable.

This was supposed to be a one-time thing. That was the rule I set for myself after Cape Town—one night, no strings, no expectations. But nothing about Anastasia has ever been easy to walk away from. And now, lying here with my body still half inside her, her scent wrapped around me like a brand I’ll never be able to wash off, I know I’ve passed the point of no return.

My fingers trace slow, idle patterns against her bare hip, my mind playing a dangerous game of what ifs and what nows.

She shifts slightly, pressing back into me, and I feel her body relax into sleep, fully and completely.

She trusts me.

That thought alone tightens something in my chest. She’s never been the type to give trust freely—life hasn’t made it easy for her to believe in people, not when so many have let her down. And yet, here she is. Asleep in my bed, tangled up in me like she belongs here.

I should let her rest. I should let myself sleep too.

But my mind is a battlefield.

I press a kiss to the back of her shoulder, inhaling deeply before forcing myself to shift slightly, careful not to wake her as I reach for the comforter, pulling it over both of us. The city lights filter through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting soft shadows across the room, making the moment feel unreal.

She murmurs something in her sleep, unintelligible, but her fingers curl lightly around mine where they rest against her stomach.

And that’s when it hits me.

I don’t just want her in my bed.

I want her here always.

The realization is a slow, creeping thing, wrapping around my ribs like a vice, pressing down on me with a weight I don’t know how to shake.

I’m already too far gone.

And the worst part?

I’m not sure I even want a way out.