Now her hips seek me out in earnest, lifting up where the friction is, falling back onto the bed when I remove my hand. “Mitchell.” She’s out of breath.
Rebecca’s legs part wider. I can smell her sex. We both want the same thing: me burying my face between her legs, licking and sucking until she’s begging for release.
I can’t wait any longer. I need to see her, all of her. Naked. Bare. For me.
“Lift your hips,” I say, tugging down her shorts in one smooth motion. Eyes locked on the dark curls at the juncture of her thighs, I rasp, “You’re the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” She’s ridiculously wet. Dampness coats her inner thighs.
Not yet, not yet, not yet.
If I take her now, things will end before they even begin. No, there are a few things I want to do to Rebecca first. Only when she’s on that razor precipice between pleasure and pain, between want and need, will I let her fall.
“You’re still dressed,” she breathes.
For good reason too. The less layers between us, the higher the probability I’ll come like a pre-pubescent thirteen-year-old boy.
Apparently, Rebecca wants me naked now. Sitting up, she whips my shirt over my head before I can stop her. Her gaze glides over my bare skin. “Mm.” Reaching forward, she runs a hand over my chest. The hair crinkles between her fingers. Then it drifts south, settling on where my erection tents my shorts.
I laugh and catch her wrist as she makes contact. My dick twitches from the much-needed touch. “Oh, no, sweetheart. You do that and I’m done for.”
She smiles, a coy flash of teeth that makes heat flare in my balls, but doesn’t fight me as I rise over her, smoothing my hands down her belly. Her thighs press together, shielding me from what I want most, but when I palm her knees and ease them apart, she spreads her legs to reveal her pink center, ripe and swollen with desire.
Her short pants fill the air as I lower myself between her legs and dip my head, low enough so my breath coasts across her dark curls. A dark, musky scent rises to my nostrils, ratcheting the tension in my body higher. I take my time pressing biting kisses on her soft inner thighs. The skin is satin smooth, pale from where the sun was unable to touch.
She tangles her fingers in my hair. “Mitchell.”
I watch a trail of her arousal slide down her thigh like a glisten of dew.
Then I lick it up.
“Oh!” Her hips snap forward, then lower back onto the bed. My nostrils flair as her taste lingers on my tongue. Fuck. One long, wet lick of her and I’m gone.
Burying my face between her thighs is one of the best moments I’ve had these past few months. I lick at her swollen pussy, sucking it into my mouth, and her breathing grows erratic, the sighs punctured by needy moans that go straight to my throbbing cock. She’s tart and sweet and growing wetter, and I lap up her juices eagerly, loving how her hips roll and her voice breaks as she says my name, close to a beg.
Using my thumbs to part her lips, I dab my tongue at her entrance. The muscles around it quiver.
“Tell me what you want, Rebecca.” The flat of my tongue strokes her slowly, around and around the tight nub. I pull her closer. My scalp is smarting from how tightly she grips my hair. The longing rips through me, as raw and pure as a summer storm.
“I want—I need—” She chokes off as a shudder runs through her.
My lips brush her clit. She tenses, on edge. My own body stills in response.
“You like it there?” I tease the sensitive area.
“Yes.” She gulps for air. A warm flush has overtaken her body, the skin hot to the touch. “Suck my clit.”
My soft laughter vibrates against her skin as I open my mouth wider and latch onto the bud beneath the thatch of dark hair, suckling softly, wet tongue laving up and down as I go.
“Oooh.” She lifts her hips, digging her heels into the mattress. A sound like a half-sob wrenches from her chest. “That feels so good.”
My pelvis presses harder against the mattress, a sad excuse for what I really want, but now isn’t the time, not until she’s a screaming ball of need, frayed nerves and nothing more. I want to take her to a place of such pleasure that she’ll remember it for the rest of her life. If I can’t tell Rebecca how I feel about her, then I’m just going to have to show her.
Once her hips begin to seek me out in earnest, I stretch her with two fingers, pumping in and out slowly, her slickness coating my hand. Then I add a third, turning them up so I’m scraping the front of her vaginal wall.
Her breath abruptly cuts off. “Don’t stop.” She’s poised taut as a bowstring, building toward release.
I gentle my kissing, shifting my attention from her clit to peppering kisses along her thighs, bringing her back down from the brink. Rebecca, I can tell you, is not having that. She wraps her legs around my head, pulling me closer, and I laugh at her muttered curse.
I pump my fingers faster now, tapping her clit with my tongue. She strains toward release, back beautifully bowed, breasts jutting, and though I can’t see anything but the sweet flesh before me, I imagine her eyes squeezed shut, teeth digging into her lower lip.
“More friction,” she grinds out. “Yes, like that.”
I give her what she wants, but I don’t let her go all the way. I keep her on that edge, the one she wants to fling herself from.
“Mitchell, please.”
“Tell me what you want.” When I lift my head, our eyes lock.
“I—” Her chest rises and falls. Her eyes are a deep, swimming blue. “I want you to fuck me.”
That’s my girl.
I shed my shorts in record time. My cock bobs between us, precum glistening on the engorged tip. Rolling away, I reach into my nightstand and grab a condom, rip it open, roll it on in less time than it takes me to inhale. I roll on top of her, forearms braced on either side of her head, my length poised at her entrance.
“You’re sure about this?” I ask, just in case.
She presses a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Positive.”
Then I sink slowly in.
Our groans merge together, become one sound of need. A few inches more and I’m seated in Rebecca completely. Her inner walls stretch to accommodate my girth.
Rebecca wraps her legs around my waist, hooking her ankles at my lower back. I lean in close, not liking how much space there is between us, how impersonal it feels. I want to look into her eyes and see everything she’s feeling, everything I’m feeling too. Then I begin to move.
Fingers pressed against her hips, I pull out halfway, sink back in, so slowly that I’m driven half out of my mind. This is the purest form of torture. Rebecca’s body clasping mine, shared breath, the silence of the empty house wrapped around us. Shadows darken the hollow of her throat, the valley between her breasts.
“Fuck, you feel good.” I slip my fingers between her curls, circling that turgid nub. So tight and wet.
Rebecca’s eyes are feverish, unfocused. Lifting her legs for deeper penetration, I begin rolling my hips in an unhurried pace, the sounds and scents of our arousal slipping together, churning into something potent that hangs heavy in the air.
The change in angle has Rebecca crying out. She’s close. Her hands fist in the sheets, shallow tremors skittering through her legs, and I thrust into her, faster and faster, my own desire coiling, and I’m nearly there when I pull out, saying, “Flip over.”
She obeys, thankfully not frightened by the dominance, and the sight of her sweet ass turns me hard as concrete. I plunge in. Pull out, until the broad tip of my cock teases her entrance. Then I sink deep, deeper. The pace is agonizingly slow. Desire licks at the base of my spine, and the tightness of her pussy milking me makes my eyes roll in the back of my head. I’ve never felt this much pleasure before, from any woman I’ve been with. It’s Rebecca, I realize. She makes me feel full in my heart.
“Mitchell,” she cries, face pressed into the pillow.
I rub my hand over one round ass cheek. The
n I smack it with an open palm.
She jumps, her gasp low and throaty.
Then:
“Do that again.”
Holy fuck. Is she serious?
Rebecca peers at me over her shoulder, pushing her ass backward when I draw out, as if trying to keep me clasped inside her for as long as possible. “Is that all you’ve got, Mitchell?”
My grin flashes, because there’s only one thought in my head right now: I think I’ve met my match.
I spank her again, the skin pink from the contact. “Tilt your ass up more.” When she does, changing the angle, I’m hitting the spot I know will bring stars to her eyes.
Her entire body stiffens. A low, broken moan follows, her shoulders heaving, legs shaking from the position. I fuck her like I’ve wanted to fuck her for weeks, with her hair wrapped tightly around my wrist, her ass slapping against the front of my thighs, damp skin sliding together, something primal and animalistic rising up, bearing its teeth and claws.
“Yes, baby,” I breathe. “That’s it.”
Reaching around, I slip my fingers between her curls, spreading the slickness over her clit. I pet her once, twice, and then Rebecca is fracturing apart with a hoarse cry, grinding against my hand as I stay with her while her inner walls clasp and unclasp around me. The pressure triggers my own release. I groan deeply, trapping her hips in a bruising grip as I pound into her, fucking her hard, so hard she’s forced to brace her hands on the headboard for balance. Everything that’s been coiling inside, for weeks now, is sprung open, a fierce explosion ripping through me.
I collapse on top of her, spent. Rebecca flips over and runs her palms down my sweaty back. This girl. If I’m not careful, she’ll steal my heart when I’m not looking.
After a few minutes, I mumble into her neck, “Am I squishing you?”
“No.” She tightens her hold on me. “I like it.”
Smiling against her damp skin, I press a kiss there before leaning back to look her in the eye. “Who knew Rebecca was such a dirty little girl.” A blush heats her cheeks, but there’s a spark of challenge in her expression. I like that she doesn’t back down, that she dishes whatever I give her ten times over. I say, “There’s so much I don’t know about you.” A strand of hair curls around her cheek, and I tuck it behind her ear.
Maybe it’s the post-sex haze that’s messing with my vision, but I swear guilt flashes in her expression. “There’s not much to tell.”
“Hold that thought.” A quick trip to the bathroom to discard the condom, before I slide back into bed, tugging Rebecca’s soft body against me. “Tell me more about Rebecca Peterson.”
“Well.” Her hand rests on my chest above my heart. “I hate coffee, but I love coffee ice cream. I can’t stand the smell of gasoline. I like my eggs over easy. I dream of one day owning a house in the mountains, just me and the trees.” She shrugs and shifts closer, if that’s even possible. Her cheek rests on my shoulder. “What else is there to know?”
“What are you most afraid of?”
She’s taken aback by this question. A faraway look enters her eyes. I touch the deep line between her brows, smooth it out with my thumb as she says, “I guess I’m afraid of not accomplishing what I want to accomplish. Being held back because of circumstances beyond my control.” She doesn’t look at me as she says this, and I have a feeling it’s deliberate.
But then a bright smile lights her face, and I tell myself it was my imagination.
“Hey.” I grip her chin. “Knowing you, you’d find a way. Nothing would stop you.”
“Perhaps,” she says, covering her mouth as a huge yawn overtakes her. “What time is it?”
I check the bedside clock. “Eleven.” Outside, the moon is a sliver of pale alabaster.
“I should probably go.”
My heart lurches at the thought of sleeping in an empty bed after knowing what it feels like to touch her skin, bury my face in her hair, breathe her in. “No, stay.” A gentle kiss to her temple. “Stay with me.”
There’s a moment of hesitation. “Are you sure?”
“Very.” Before she can change her mind, I wrap my arms around her, squeezing gently. “Sleep.” Less than ten minutes later, her breathing evens out. Her palm rests on my chest, fingers slightly curled.
How did I get to be so lucky?
Chapter 22
rebecca
It’s rather ridiculous sneaking into my apartment the next morning dressed in yesterday’s clothes. The front door opens noiselessly. The carpet muffles my footsteps as I make a beeline toward the stairs, my purse clutched to my chest so the metal clips don’t rattle.
“Well, well, well, looks like someone had a fun night.”
I freeze at Katie’s voice. She sits at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and two slices of toast. It’s ten in the morning. A lazy Sunday. I blush all the way to my hairline. “Um.” I hold my purse in front of my body like it’s a shield. Not that it’ll be of any use. “Good morning.”
She chomps down on a piece of toast, taking her time chewing as she looks me up and down. I feel like one of those people in NCIS, two chairs and a metal table between us, and the search for truth.
“So,” she says, taking another huge bite. Crumbs fall onto her plate.
My fingers twitch. “So.”
“You didn’t come home last night.” As it if wasn’t obvious. “And I know you were out with Mitchell.” Setting the toast onto her plate, she quirks a finger, indicating for me to come closer, which I do. She pushes out the opposite chair with her foot. “Sit.”
I plop onto the seat and brace myself for an interrogation. It all feels very surreal.
“Tell me,” Katie says, and her mouth twitches. “Does he have a big dick?”
My mouth drops even as my ears burn. “Katie!”
She bursts out laughing, hands clapped over her mouth. “Sorry, sorry. Just, you looked so uncomfortable I felt the need to say it. You don’t have to answer that.” Her smile turns sly. “Although, I really am curious. I bet he’s hung.”
I don’t know whether to feel offended on Mitchell’s behalf or sink through the carpet. Katie and I are close enough that we talk about our sex lives openly, but it just seems wrong. Wrong in that he’s not just a number. He’s something more.
I do my best not to get snooty, but it probably doesn’t work. “Just because a guy has a big dick, doesn’t mean the sex is mind-blowing. It’s about technique too.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure. But I bet he has both. Tell me I’m wrong. I dare you.”
With a groan, I rub my tired eyes, then reach for her coffee and take a large gulp. If I’m going to talk about last night, I at least need caffeine. “You’re not wrong.”
Her head tilts in consideration. “If I’m not wrong, then why do you look like your cat just died?”
“I don’t have a cat.”
“It’s an expression.”
When I continue to stare glumly at a stain on the kitchen table, Katie’s face wrinkles in concern. She reaches out to lay a hand atop my own. “Hey.” Her voice softens. “You know I was just yanking your chain, right?”
“I know.”
“So then what’s the problem? Did you have a good time last night?”
Problem? More like problems. On the ride over here, I felt on top of the world. Mitchell rested one hand on my knee, the other on the steering wheel as he wound through the backstreets, prolonging the time it took to reach my apartment. He even leaned across the console to kiss me before I got out of the car. I didn’t know what to make of it. I only knew I wanted more.
As soon as he drove away, my heart started a long, slow sink to the pit of my stomach. Because I’m in deep. Really deep. Somehow, I have to sort out this mess without losing him.
My voice is a whisper. “I think I’m falling for him, Katie.”
The warmth and understanding in her eyes eases some of the tension in my body. There’s no judgement, only concern. “And that’s a bad thing?”
/>
“Yes, because I’m lying to him.”
Katie leans back in her seat. “Oh. Right.”
I take another sip of her coffee. “I need to tell him about my thesis, but I’m scared. I’m not even planning on using it anymore. There’s too much bias. It’s not right. I’m pretending to be someone I’m not and Mitchell deserves better than that.” I knew this was coming. I knew I was being pulled under, but I didn’t want to believe it, because it was all supposed to be fun and games, right? A deal, nothing more. Mitchell would have his fake girlfriend, space from his father, and I’d have the means to repay my debt to the university.
So much can change in a few months.
“What if he hates me?”
Katie shakes her head. “He won’t hate you.” She seems certain, which makes me feel even more uncertain. She doesn’t even know Mitchell. Doesn’t know how sweet and giving he is. “You should have seen him the day you were sick. Barged in here like he owned the place carrying probably a hundred dollars’ worth of groceries. He cares about you, Rebecca. A lot.” She pauses. “But you need to tell him sooner rather than later. If you both have feelings for one another, someone could get seriously hurt.”
“I know.” Dread settles in my gut like a hot stone. I need to be brave, that’s all. I’ll tell him about the thesis, but then I’ll tell him that I decided to trash it. He’ll understand.
It’s just past ten. After my noon class, I’m going to meet Dr. Stevens to tell her I want to change my thesis. It’s late in the game, but the deadline is still a few weeks away.
Katie and I talk a few more minutes before I hurry upstairs to change into clean clothes. As I pick out my outfit, I can’t help but think back to last night. After falling asleep the first round, we woke up a few hours later to go at it again, this time with me on top, riding Mitchell hard. This morning he took me in the shower, slow and sweet and tender.
Playing the Field ebook final draft Page 17
