Play

by Holly S. Roberts

  I was past caring that he demanded everything, and was ready to follow any direction he gave. My legs circled him and he picked up my body. On his knees, he scooted me back a few feet on the bed. He made it seem effortless. All thought left my muddled brain when he said, “Drop your legs.”

  My feet went to the mattress and his fingers went to my pussy. He delved through the folds, exploring the slick, swollen contours, pulling back the lips as his body slid down mine. I couldn’t help my gasp for breath when his mouth found just my clit. My feet dug in and my ass lifted off the bed. His firm hand slid to my abs and pushed my hips back down onto the comforter. His eyes… oh god his eyes, looked directly into mine with intensity. But it didn’t stop me from feeling embarrassed. The back of my head hit the pillow at the same time I tightly closed my eyes.

  “On your elbows. Watch me.”

  His hot breath fluttered across my pussy, sending shivers over my sensitized flesh. Ever so lightly his teeth pulled on my clit and I practically flew to my forearms.

  “You’re thinking again, Legs. Just feel…and watch.” His voice did as much damage to my control as his lips were doing.

  He sucked the entire mass of nerves past his teeth. His hand remained on my stomach, adding slight pressure to keep my lower half against the bed. While breathing erratically, I watched him release my clit and slide the tip of his tongue through the same folds his fingers discovered.

  I was incredibly close to the fastest orgasm of my life when his hand left my stomach and two fingers slid inside. There was no resistance as the wetness welcomed his entry. I couldn’t help myself… my arms slid down, my head fell back and the moan that escaped my lips sounded like a wounded animal. I was past caring, because my legs quivered while pulsing heat encompassed every nerve ending between my thighs, centering in my clit. Writhing spasms left me gasping for breath, while the most exquisite orgasm of my life poured through me.

  Killian moved up my body before it ended and his lips met mine—warm, insistent. He drank in the endless involuntary sounds I made as the vibrations continued. He pulled away and I vaguely registered the crinkle of a condom wrapper.

  Moments later, my muscles clenched around the slow, thick glide of his cock. He filled me completely before sliding nearly out. My whimper of protest earned me a deep, sexy command.

  “Legs around my hips,” he ground out.

  I wrapped them around his backside, tilting my pelvis up. With his hands on my hips, he drove in deep and the world exploded again.

  Oh my fucking my.

  Chapter Seven

  The covers were now pushed to the bottom of the bed. He held me curled with my back against his chest, my legs pulled slightly into my stomach. He’d arranged me how he wanted me then skimmed his fingers from my hip past my knee. God this man’s touch drove me wild even in my sexually exhausted state.

  “You hungry?”

  The words broke the spell, but it took me a moment to switch from the prefrontal cortex orgasmic part of my brain to the lateral hypothalamus hunger part of my brain. He waited patiently, never stopping the lazy slide of his fingers.

  “Starving.”

  In one fluid movement, he rose from the bed, totally unconcerned with his nakedness. I looked at the hand he held out. My nudity caused me to hesitate.

  “Um.” I sat up, ignoring his hand, and made a grab for the rumpled sheet.

  His fingers closed around mine. “Naked, in my kitchen…now.”

  “No way,” I yelped.

  I wasn’t sure what to expect with my rebellion, but even so, I was surprised over what I got.

  His dimples flashed and be began laughing. “You’re something else, you know that, Legs?”

  Should I be insulted or not?

  He walked over and picked up my panties, then snagged his underwear from his pants. He tossed mine on the bed while gracefully stepping into his.

  I pointedly looked at the other clothes on the floor.

  “This is the only concession you’re getting.” He had that steel tone back in his voice.

  Before I knew what he was doing, he snatched up my panties and grabbed my foot. We fought over my underwear for all of two seconds before his hands pressed both of mine to the bed.

  “Too late. Hold still.” The gruff words held a challenge, and all the fight went out of me.

  “Come on,” he said as soon as he had my underwear in place.

  My heart thumped painfully against my chest and my core began its delicious ache all over again. He latched his hand to mine and jerked me up, pulling me reluctantly behind him.

  This was not happening.

  He stopped in the center of his kitchen and turned. His head dipped and he devoured every inch of me with his eyes. I stood still, fighting the need to cross my hands over my breasts.

  “You are the fucking hottest woman I’ve ever seen.” His voice came out in a low, throaty growl. “I watched you at that fucking party, couldn’t take my eyes away. I wanted to beat the holy hell out of Stump, take you to the closest room, wrap those endless legs around my hips, and fuck you until you screamed.”

  My hands remained at my sides and my legs turned to Jell-o.

  “You’re not a screamer, though.” His dimples flashed as heat raced to my cheeks. “We’ll need to see if I can change that.”

  Damn. I seriously didn’t know if my legs could hold me up any longer. He turned and grabbed a hand towel from a drawer beside him.

  “Here.”

  I stared down at the black towel then looked back up in question.

  “For the bar stool where I want you sitting while I cook. And do not,” his eyes went to my breasts, “cover those tits.”

  I stood frozen.

  He pulled me in close, his hands going to my ass as he whispered against my ear, “Look, baby, I’ve eaten that pussy and sucked those tits. I know them intimately. Don’t feel embarrassed or ashamed. I’ve dreamed of you naked, here in my house.” He breathed a few times. “I’ve conceded more than I want, so fucking work with me, okay?”

  The words held a slight edge, but his eyes looked desperate. I took a breath, backed away, and walked to the barstool. I neatly laid the towel on top and then turned, hitched my foot up onto the top rung, and lifted my body slightly so I could sit. His eyes followed every movement and I felt an incredible sense of power slide through me.

  Yes, I felt a touch of modesty, too, but I also watched almost every inch of Killian’s unadorned, ripped body move around the kitchen. This man was gorgeous, and while he prepared our meal, he flicked his eyes my way countless times and made me feel the same.

  I had to fight laughing over the thought of sitting mostly naked, after the best sex of my life, in Killian MacGregor’s kitchen. I couldn’t help my shy grin, but a small part of my modesty floated away.

  I followed his graceful movements in wonder as he slid open the large freezer door. The refrigerator in my apartment would fit inside. I watched as he removed a casserole dish and frozen steaks that appeared cooked.

  “Marty, my cook, does my shopping and comes in once a week to prepare meals. He cooked these on the grill so I can just heat everything in the oven. We’ll have a salad first while they warm.”

  He arranged the glass dish and steaks in the oven then began removing more items from the fridge.

  “Do you want my help?” I was impressed that my voice sounded almost normal.

  “No, I’ve got this. A salad I can handle. Warming food I can handle. If there ever comes a time that someone needs me to cook from scratch, I’ll beg for help.”

  My smile widened. “You can’t cook.”

  His dimples flashed. “If it comes from a can. When you meet Marty, please don’t piss him off. I need the calories and there are too many preservatives and toxins in takeout. He keeps me fueled.”

  Killian thought I would be around to meet his once-a-week cook. Could a smile actually split someone’s face?

  He placed large glasses of water on the count
er, followed by our salads before sitting down beside to me. He didn’t bother with a towel; his black boxer briefs covered enough of him that I guessed he was comfortable. My panties were skimpy lace and I was glad for the layer of soft cloth covering the stool.

  I stabbed assorted lettuce and vegetables with my fork before lifting it to my lips. His eyes followed the movement, so I stopped before opening my mouth, wondering silently about what grabbed his attention.

  “It’s hard not to fuck you right here, right now.”

  His eyes smoldered, making my entire body go hot.

  “Wearing clothes would have helped with that,” I said flippantly.

  His eyes actually went darker and traveled over every inch of my exposed skin. “You really think so?” he asked once his eyes came back to mine.

  I was so glad for the towel.

  I ate without tasting anything.

  “Where do you run?” he asked after my first few bites.

  “Uhh, around campus.” Please don’t let me return to broken-up speech patterns, I thought to myself.

  He grinned. “Define campus. How far do you run?”

  This was a safe subject, so I managed to control my stuttering for once and answered in probably the longest sentence I’d spoken thus far.

  “About fifteen miles a day. I begin at my apartment and have a measured route so I can keep track of my time and distance. Twice a week I run with the team. That schedule will pick up after the first of the year, but for now it’s my off-season routine.”

  “Spend the night.”

  I could do nothing but blink several times at the quick change in subject.

  He gave me a lopsided grin. “Things are about to get fuck-all hectic. I don’t handle relationships well during football season. I’d like you to stay the night.”

  My heart dropped. I wouldn’t be meeting his cook. I looked away, feeling tears well behind my eyes like some stupid heartsick teenager.

  “Hey,” his fingers hooked my chin and turned my head his way. “It doesn’t mean I won’t try, but I have no idea if you can put up with the intense focus I need during season.”

  “Focus?”

  “It’s what I eat, live and breathe. I make no excuses and I get paid a hell of a lot of money to be the best. I’m a very poor loser and not even my mother wants to be around when that happens. I want to give you tonight and tomorrow before you judge me on more than what you’ll see when regular season starts.”

  Really, when I thought about it, none of this made any sense. “Why me?”

  “Truth.” He stared intently into my eyes. “The party. I watched you look away from anyone involved in more than light sexual contact. I watched you try to make that long, gorgeous body compact and unseen. You wanted nothing to do with that world, but there was incredible fascination in those beautiful blue eyes.”

  “I didn’t know you were watching,” I whispered.

  He gave me a long, measured look before his voice lowered another notch. “And that could be the biggest reason you’re sitting nearly naked in my kitchen right now.”

  His eyes captured me in their endless dark depths, but the stupid words tumbled out anyway. “I could be frigid.”

  His laughter burst throughout the room. Like everything else he did, it was full and uninhibited, dimples fully displayed. Shivers slid straight to my sensitive lady parts.

  Yes, I could make babies with this man.

  The oven timer went off and, still laughing, he got up and removed the meal. I noticed the growing outline of his cock beneath the cotton of his underwear before bringing my eyes up and meeting his knowing smile.

  I could smell the food now and my stomach growled. I ate salads, but they were just so I could feel good about something healthy digesting in my body. I needed real calories for the number of miles I ran.

  He prepared our plates and carried them over. The first bite put me in heaven and I started eating in earnest. I would not be upsetting Marty. At one point, I noticed Killian staring.

  I gave him a sheepish look. “Sorry, I like food.”

  He looked at my breasts then back up to my face. “I like you.”

  If I still had food in my mouth I would have choked. He started eating again while I tried to pretend his words didn’t flood my panties.

  There was something else bothering me, so I asked. “Why did this,” I pointed to my naked chest then to his, “take so long?”

  He knew exactly what I was asking.

  “I didn’t want an uncomplicated fuck and I had to take care of a few things first.”

  Did that make me a complicated fuck? “Things?”

  “Yes.”

  I didn’t feel so good about “things,” but quickly decided to like the idea of being complicated. From his one-word answer, he made it obvious I wasn’t getting more from him.

  I helped with the dishes, but he only allowed me in the kitchen so he could torture me. A whisper of touch against my breasts, a light kiss, his body brushing mine—he made doing the dishes sexual torture. His game made me forget the smidgen of shame I had left over my nudity.

  As soon as we finished, he lifted me up to the kitchen counter. The hard fullness, hidden by his underwear, pressed against me and I now craved skin on skin. My tingling inner thighs were ready for more.

  He played with a small piece of hair on my shoulder while kissing and nipping my neck and collarbone. I squeezed him with my thighs, hoping he’d press closer. He dropped my hair and skimmed his fingers down my sides, trailing across my legs with leisurely strokes. I shivered with need, but he never touched me where I wanted it most.

  A low rumbling sound escaped my throat and he stopped and moved slightly away so he could see my face.

  His voice was deep, sexy, and oh so smart-ass. “You never answered my question. Will you stay the night?”

  I understood the game now and couldn’t help my frustrated response. “Blackmail?”

  He leaned in so his nose touched mine. “Whatever it takes.”

  I released an irritated sigh knowing I couldn’t win this game. “Yes, I’ll stay the night. If I must,” I tacked on just to be flippant.

  He laughed, totally disabusing me of any power I thought I had, while swinging me into a cradle against his chest. I put my arms around his neck as he carried me back to bed.

  Two incredible rounds later, he ran a bath in the largest tub I’d ever seen. His muscular legs rested on either side of me, and my head tiredly leaned back against his chest. His fingers ran up my arms, over my breasts, and down to my hips.

  Killian MacGregor was a toucher, and I wanted his fingers doing exactly what they were doing for the rest of my life. When it came to him, I couldn’t help being a fool. I’d had exactly two lovers slash boyfriends in my life, fallen in love with both, and cried my eyes out when they left me. Greg was the worst because he was my first sexual encounter and I wanted him desperately…wanted his ring, his babies, and a happily ever after. Steve didn’t hurt quite so much because I expected it. Losing Killian would be devastating and I already knew it would happen.

  “Whatcha thinking about?”

  In this, I couldn’t be honest. Men did not want to hear that you were thinking about the pounds of chocolate you’d eat when they dumped you.

  “My clothes, running shoes, clean underwear…you know, girly things that make our lives livable.”

  His chest muscles rippled under my cheek as he laughed.

  “I need to be at the stadium at six tomorrow morning for film. I’ll give you a ride home after that. You can change into running clothes and then I’ll run with you.”

  He couldn’t see my grin. “Okay.”

  He tipped my chin up so I looked into his eyes. “The rest of tomorrow is mine.”

  I loved the sound of that. “Do we have plans?”

  His fingers slipped over my leg and delved along the folds of my swollen pussy.

  “It depends on how this feels.”

  “Mmm, it feels really g
ood,” I said, not realizing what he meant.

  “Then I didn’t pound it hard enough.” His entire palm staked its claim as he cupped me.

  “Oh.” I had permanent hot-flash, red-face syndrome around him.

  His chest rumbled again.

  My mouth opened and the words spilled out before I could stop myself, “Do men get chaffed?”

  I could hear his laughter now as he answered, “Not from pussy. At least it’s never happened to me, but there’s a first time for everything.”

  “You’re teasing me.”

  “You’re fun to tease.”

  We fell asleep in his bed after I tried my damnedest to chafe his cock.

  Chapter Eight

  He kissed my forehead and rolled out of bed in complete darkness after his alarm went off. He explained the night before that watching film of the coming week’s rival team was the highlight of the week.

  I grumbled and fell back to sleep.

  My eyes popped open when the covers were yanked away, and I squinted against the light shining through the open blinds.

  He held a tray in his arms. “One of the few things I can cook, sleepyhead, is waffles, and I make a mean cup of coffee.”

  “No coffee. Not till after I run.” My voice was still groggy with sleep.

  “Sit up. I’ll drink yours, and you can have my water.”

  I adjusted the pillows behind my back, looked at the pushed down covers, and glanced at him while trying to snag the sheet.

  He shook his head and gave me his “just-try-it” look.

  Killian was really into this naked thing, though he was completely dressed. All my insecurities returned.

  “You shouldn’t drink coffee before running,” I said grumpily to hide my awkwardness.

  He scanned my bare chest. “In the morning, there’s no blood in my veins, just coffee, baby. Now stop complaining and enjoy your breakfast.”

  “One waffle. I can’t eat a lot before I run.”

  “I’m taking notes. Are all runners this picky?”

  “What do you eat before a game?”

  “A cow.”

  I glared. “Seriously.”

  “Okay, so I eat light, but the cow comes later.”

  “Exactly,” I said in a harsher tone than I meant to.

  “You sure are grouchy in the morning.”

  The gruff voice he used to make me sizzle was back and damn, his dimples were showing.