Play Along

by T L Swan

  I pant to try and deal with his claiming.

  “Let me fuck you the way I want to fuck you.”

  He slowly slides out and drives back home in one deep pump.

  We both groan.

  Oh dear God. This is Bad Boy Heaven in all its glory.

  He slides in and out, again and again.

  After a few uncomfortable minutes, my body finally loosens and the sensation turns to enjoyment. As if sensing the exact moment I begin to enjoy it, he smacks my behind. “That’s it, baby, ride me home.”

  He lifts my hips and starts to take what he wants, deep hard pumps with his fingers just at the right tempo into my sex.

  I have never felt something so naughty, so forbidden, and so fucking good in all of my life.

  He pinches my clit between his fingers and I nearly go through the roof.

  “Oh, yeah,” he purrs in a deep guttural growl. “You feel so fucking good. This ass. This beautiful fucking ass.”

  Our bodies slap together and I’m close… Oh God. This orgasm is going to be so strong, it’s going to hurt.

  He slaps me hard on the behind again and it’s the smart of the slap and the depth of his cock that sends me spiralling over the edge. I fall forward as my body convulses, and I scream out face down into my pillow.

  He picks up the pace and pumps me hard and fast and my legs turn to jelly.

  I can’t… I can’t take any more.

  Hard and deep. Hard and deep… so hard and deep.

  He grabs my hipbones and slams brutally to stay buried deep inside. I feel the deep jerk of his cock. “Oh… Rosh,” he calls.

  He slowly slides in and then back out, and I stay still with my face buried deep into the pillow.

  Holy fucking shit. What was that?

  He eventually pulls me back and sits me up on his lap and kisses me over my shoulder. His kiss is tender and caring.

  I fall back on his chest with my head on his shoulder as I look up at the ceiling, panting, breathless, and completely overwhelmed. My heart is beating so fast. He is still deep inside me and his lips are worshipping every inch of my face.

  His words come back to me about me being his.

  “When did I become yours?” I whisper into the darkness.

  He kisses me gently over my shoulder, his lips tenderly claiming mine. This is the most intimate sex I have ever had. I feel so… cherished.

  Sexual perfection.

  He slides out and lays me down on my back, rips his condom off, and crawls over me again. My legs wrap around his waist and my arms around his broad shoulders. His hair falls messily over his forehead as he looks down at me. “When you came back for me on the ship,” he murmurs.

  I smile and he kisses me softly.

  “When did you become mine?” I whisper up at him.

  He kisses me again, his tongue slowly moving against mine. The feeling behind it nearly brings me to tears. “When I couldn’t leave you tonight.”

  Our eyes are locked and, unable to help myself, I say the words I know I shouldn’t.

  “You know I’m in love with you, right?” I whisper.

  He smiles sexily. “I kind of hoped you were.” His lips take mine as he slides his slick body back into my sex.

  I smile into his lips. This guy is going to be the death of me.

  “Legs up, baby.” He growls. “I need to fuck my girl.”

  “Didn’t you just do that?” I pant.

  “I’m just warming up.”

  * * *

  There are three cardinal rules that any self-respecting woman should adhere to if she is going to acquire any hand in her relationship—and by hand,

  I mean upper.

  Rule number one: never let him fuck you up the ass without asking.

  Rule number two: never say the words I love you first while still drunk on an orgasm high.

  Rule number three: never sit on the edge of the bathtub and watch him shower with love heart-shaped eyes.

  It’s just plain embarrassing because, right now, at this minute, I am the world’s biggest One Direction fan and Harry fucking Styles is in my shower.

  He knows it, too. His eyes occasionally flicker up to meet mine as he rubs the soap all over his muscular physique.

  “Get in with me.” He smirks.

  “No, I’m happy watching the show.” I smile.

  His huge, tanned body fills the shower, and his dark, trimmed pubic hair is the focal point of the masterpiece. He is manicured all over and everything is where it should be. Muscles, dick, hair, tatts… those naughty but nice dimples.

  I’m totally screwed.

  Stace Williams is a piece of art. He’s valuable and adored by any woman who is lucky enough to ever experience the pleasure he bestows upon them.

  I feel grateful that I have had the opportunity to meet him, to touch him, to have had him touch me, and I wonder if we hadn’t been locked in a room together if we would ever have had our connection. Would he have even looked my way? I wonder what kind of women he normally pursues out in the real world.

  Bringing me back to the present, he tries to sweeten the deal by giving himself a few long strokes with his soapy hand. My mind goes back to the first night we had sex and the masturbation show he gave me. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s an all time top memory in the bank. One I will revisit again and again.

  “We need to get out of here,” he replies casually as he soaps up his chest.

  “Hmm.” I’m preoccupied as my eyes follow his hand.

  “We can’t go to any airports because they will be looking for us there. We are safe in Bogota for the time being, but we can’t stay here for long.” He thinks for a moment as he washes himself. “The problem is I don’t have any money in my real name bank accounts, but if I access my Mac accounts, they will know where we are.”

  I nod. “Hmm.”

  “Where do you want to go?” he asks.

  I shrug. “Wherever.” My eyes drop to the large muscle between his legs. God, he’s hung, even when soft.

  “Will you concentrate?” He interrupts my thoughts.

  “Oh, huh?” My guilty eyes flicker back up to his face. “I am concentrating.”

  His eyes darken. “Yes, I know what you were concentrating on.”

  I smile because there is no denying it. How am I supposed to carry on as normal when I have a bonafide god in my shower?

  I’m in awe of his sexual prowess because, well………..he’s, just damn ridiculous.

  “We will move on today,” he continues.

  “Yes, you are probably right. I need to stop by and pick something up first.”

  “From where?”

  “A safety deposit box.”

  He frowns. “What do you have in a deposit box?”

  “Umm…” I hesitate. This is going to go either of two ways. He’s going to lose his shit… Or… I don’t know.

  I’m thinking he’s going to lose it.

  I stand and pace for a moment. “Well, you know when I was on the boat?”

  “Ship,” he corrects.

  I roll my eyes. “Yes, whatever.”

  I pause again.

  “Yes?” he snaps.

  “I didn’t know I was actually going to like you.”

  He looks at me deadpan and stops washing himself.

  I fake a smile. “You see.”

  “You were sleeping with me,” he replies flatly.

  “Yes, but you had kidnapped me and I was going to come here all by myself, remember?”

  His emotionless face tells me nothing. “Which… I-I would have hated, by the way.” I stammer. “Coming here alone, it’s much better with you.”

  He rolls his eyes at my bad cover up. “Go on.”

  “I broke into a container and stole the diamonds,” I blurt out in a rush.

  A frown crosses his face.

  I screw up my face as I wait for the eruption.

  He stares at me blankly as he processes what I have just said and then his
mouth nearly drops open.

  Oh shit, here it comes. I run out into the room from the bathroom and he chases me, wet and nude.

  “You… you stole the fucking diamonds?” he stammers.

  I nod quickly. “You’re wetting the carpet, you know,” I murmur as I point to the floor as a distraction.

  He puts his hands on his naked hips. “You are telling me that you stole millions of dollars worth of diamonds and got off the ship straight-faced, and now they are in a safety deposit box.” He points to the floor. “Here? In Bogota?”

  “Uh-huh,” I whisper.

  A trace of a smirk crosses his face and he shakes his head. “Just when I think you can’t possibly shock me any more than you already have.”

  A smirk crosses my face, matching his.

  “Then you go and get all sexier and even more shocking on me.” He rushes to me and I squeal in laughter. He throws me over his shoulder and slaps my behind hard.

  “Put me down,” I yell. “Put me down.”

  He turns the shower to freezing cold and I kick to try and get away.

  “You…” He slides me down his thick body. “Have been a very bad girl and you need to be punished.”

  The water is freezing and I laugh out loud as he pins me up against the wall with his body.

  “Who’s going to punish me?” I breathe as I smile up at him.

  “I am.”

  * * *

  “Can I have the bacon and eggs, please?” I ask the waitress.

  “I will have the same thanks,” Stace adds.

  “Oh, and two coffees, please.” I smile.

  “Is that all?” she asks as she scribbles on her notepad.

  “Yes, thanks.”

  We are sitting in a café having breakfast. I had to come out alone this morning and buy Stace new clothes. His high visibility work wear was like a beacon and not something one would wear if trying to blend in. I got us both a few outfits and toiletries. I also picked up wig for me, and a pair of sunglasses for both of us.

  I’m wearing a little pink dress with spaghetti straps that hangs just above my knees while the blonde wig sits below my shoulders. I have a pink cap on. I kind of look like a Spice Girl, to be honest. Stace is harder to disguise. How do you hide a giant made of pure, hard-ass muscle? His tattoos are easily distinguishable so I have him wearing a long-sleeved, cotton, white shirt, and a cap to cover his hair.

  He picks up my sunglasses from the table and puts them on then looks around. “These are better than mine,” he mutters.

  I frown, pick up his glasses, and put them on. “Why? What’s wrong with these?” Oh, everything does seem a little blue. I glance around at our surroundings. Mine are better than his, he’s right.

  “I just like these better,” he tells me.

  I hold my hand out to him. “Don’t, you are going to stretch them.”

  He looks over the top of the glasses at me. “The only thing I’m going to stretch are your orifices.”

  I smirk and stare at him as my brain misfires. Does he have any idea how hot he is with this sexual innuendo he just casually throws into our conversation? Stretching my orifices. How does he even think of this shit? But he is onto something… I have been stretched to the hilt, and then some. I turn to see the waitress standing next to our table with the coffees. She doesn’t know where to look, and it’s obvious she heard what he just said.

  I laugh and my eyes flicker to Stace who has dropped his head in embarrassment.

  “I’m sorry, please excuse my friend. He’s an idiot.” I fake a smile.

  Her eyes widen and with shaky hands she places the coffee’s down on the table then scurries out to the kitchen, no doubt to tell her work friends about the hot, dirty talker at table nine.

  “I’m an idiot?” he asks with an arched brow.

  “If the shoe fits.” I turn the page of the newspaper in front of me, embarrassed that he makes me swoon like a teenager on heat, and that he bloody well knows it.

  “Oh, it fits,” he replies darkly.

  I lift my eyes to meet his.

  “The shoe fit perfectly.” He pauses for effect. “Like a glove.” He widens his eyes.

  I smirk. “Perverted,” I mouth as I turn back to my paper and pick up my coffee.

  “Just how you like it.”

  I smirk as my eyes rise to meet his. He’s on to something there. I do like it… Very much.

  “I need a computer,” he tells me, changing the subject. “I need to do some research.”

  “Maybe we should just buy one?”

  He nods. “Yes, good thinking. That can be our next stop and then we hire a car and go to the deposit box.”

  I hold my coffee up and he clinks his with mine.

  “We make a good team, you and me.” I smile.

  He smiles into his coffee cup as his eyes drop to my lips, and I feel my insides clench. “In more ways than one.”

  * * *

  Two hours later and we are at the rental car company. Stace is sitting on a row of seats at the back of the office while he connects the Wi-Fi on our new laptop. I’m standing next to him as I wait to be called to the desk. His left hand runs up and down my leg as he sits deep in concentration while he boots up our Internet. His hand slides up my leg, and then back down, back up and under my dress and back down again. I have my arms folded as I stand and wait my turn.

  “What kind of car should I get?” I ask.

  “Something inconspicuous.”

  “Where are we dropping it off?”

  “I don’t know yet. Maybe Chile.”

  I look around nervously. “When will you know?”

  “When I get this fucking Internet working and find out where we have to go to sell the…” He widens his eyes.

  “Oh, right,” I whisper. Of course.

  His hand slides up my leg again as I watch him over his shoulder and I glance over to see a middle aged woman sitting in the row of seats watching us. What’s she looking at?

  His hand slides up my leg again and I drop my head to hide my smirk.

  Oh… that.

  Look at me. I’ve gotten so used to his hands on me all the time that I don’t even notice he does it anymore. What must we look like? Me in a short, slutty dress with a blonde wig, and him being his edible self, running his hands up and down my leg in public while he concentrates.

  “Rebecca Williams,” the girl at the desk calls out. I walk over to where she is sitting.

  “Yes, I would like to rent a car, please.” I slide over my passport.

  “Drivers license.”

  I slide Stace’s international license over the counter and her eyes lift to find him in the room. She goes back to her computer and types for a moment. “What kind of car would you like?”

  “Um.” I glance at Stace. “I need something with really, really dark, tinted windows.” I pause for a moment. “Like black windows. Oh and air conditioning.”

  She raises her brow. “Sneaking around are we?”

  My eyes widen and I glance back at Stace. Oh shit, what can I say? “Yes, on my husband… with my lover.” I tilt my chin towards Stace and her eyes rise to him again. He sits with his legs spread and his muscles on show, the epitome of an alpha.

  She smirks and widens her eyes. “Boy, I don’t blame you,” she whispers.

  I smile. “I know,” I whisper back.

  She types into her computer. “Have fun while you can, I say.”

  “I am.” I smirk. If only she knew how much.

  She reads her computer screen. “Okay, so we have a UV, a sedan…”

  “Hmm.” I pause for a moment. “Anything else?”

  She hits a few more buttons and raises her eyebrows. “We have a black Ferrari.”

  I smirk. “A Ferrari?”

  She looks up at me and raises her eyebrow. “If you’re going down, you probably should do it in style, right?”

  I bite my bottom lip to hide my stupid smile and she smiles back. We are thinking exactly the sa
me thing. “Exactly,” I whisper as I glance back at Stace. “How much is that for two weeks?”

  She widens her eyes and she types into her computer and waits for the reply. “Twenty thousand dollars.”

  I think for a moment. If I’m going down I should do it in style. This is crazy, but fucking hell, so is my life.

  “I’ll take it.”

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later Stace is sitting in the parking lot waiting for me to pick him up as he works on our computer, and I am out the back getting instructions from the maintenance guys for our Ferrari. I am like a little kid at Christmas and my heart is racing. After many instructions, I finally get the keys. I climb into the lowered vehicle and drive around to the front to see Stace sitting on an outdoor chair. I pull up slowly and rev the engine. When he looks up, his eyes widen.

  I wind down the window. “Going my way?” I smile with an over exaggerated wink.

  He stands and puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head.

  I laugh because I knew that would be his reaction.

  He walks around to the driver’s side and bends down. “This is the inconspicuous car you rented?”

  I rev the engine again. “Yep.”

  “You’re fucking crazy. You do know that, don’t you?”

  I rev the engine again. “Yep.”

  He smirks as he looks over the car.

  “If we’re going down, we’re going down in style.” I smile cheekily.

  He bends to the window. “Do I have to fucking punish you every hour?”

  “Yep.” I beep the horn to annoy him more. He slowly walks around the car and opens the driver’s side door.

  “I’m driving,” he snaps as he unzips his jeans. “While you go down in style.”

  17

  “I would like to access my safety deposit box, please?” I tell the cranky receptionist through the glass security screen. My nerves are high and I’m panicking that she is going to call the police or something. It doesn’t seem real that I have gotten away with it so far.

  Her beady eyes flicker up to Stace and she eyes him suspiciously.