Player: Stone Cold MC

by Carmen Faye

  I grabbed her and kissed her, hands on her cheeks. She made a small sound at the back of her throat. She looked surprised for a moment, her body rigid and her eyes wide. But then she relaxed and closed her eyes, melting into my hands, and I closed my eyes, too, and gave over to the sensation that flooded through me when her lips touched mine.

  I kissed her long and deep. Sensual. I traced her lips with my tongue, licked a trail along her bottom lip until she opened her mouth for me. I pushed my tongue into her, a part of me penetrating her. I wanted to be inside of her. This was a good start.

  She swirled her tongue around mine. Her hands were on my wrists, but not in a way that suggested I remove them. In a way that suggested I keep them there.

  She tasted like alcohol and excitement. I could taste her eagerness, and it was sexy as hell. Alcohol and the thrill of the night mingled to make a deadly combination, and I was free falling.

  I felt my body respond to her, my cock stiffen in my pants until it was straining against my pants in an uncomfortable way.

  She let go of my wrists and ran her hands up my arms. When she reached my shoulders, she curled her fingers. I let go of her, broke the kiss, and shrugged out of my blazer. I adjusted my pants, rearranging myself.

  “Better,” I said. She just smiled.

  I kissed her again. This time I put my arms around her body and pulled her as close to me as I could while seated on the couch. She slipped her arms around my neck. Her breasts pushed up against my chest, her back arched under my fingertips.

  Her scent was in my nose; the apple scent of her shampoo and her perfume reminded me of sex and stars. Her body felt amazing under my hands. The dress hugged her so tightly I was almost on her body, but that wasn’t enough. The material between us irritated me, a barrier.

  I wanted to be on her body completely, without any restriction. I wanted all of her.

  My cock throbbed in my pants, begging, pleading. I guided Alex down until she lay on her back on the couch. Her knees were bent with her feet still on the floor, but I could cover more of her body now, touch it with the length of mine.

  I lay against her. Her breasts pushed against my chest. Her hips were against mine, my thick hard-on against her lower stomach.

  She must have felt it, but she didn’t seem to mind. Instead she tipped her hips so that she brought us even closer together, pressing against my throbbing manhood with her hips, making the sensation that much more urgent.

  I slid my hand down from her neck, over the open neckline where my skin was still on hers, and then onto the material of the dress that covered most of her breasts. I massaged her, feeling her through the dress. She moaned in my mouth. I tugged at the neckline, but the material didn’t give way; the dress was made to stay on unless she took it off. It was one of those expensive, well-made ones.

  I hated those that didn’t just rip off when I wanted the woman.

  Alex broke the kiss and smiled. Then she squirmed until I lifted and let her get out from underneath me. She stood in front of me, reached behind her back and slowly unzipped the dress. She moved her body provocatively, giving me my own little strip show. It loosened around her waist and her breasts, held in place only by her hands.

  Her eyes were mischievous, big and dark and shimmering.

  She let the dress slowly slide down, and it clung to her legs as it inched to the floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra, the dress being supportive enough by itself, and when the dress was in a crumpled mess around her feet, she stood in front of me wearing only lace panties.

  Her breasts were magnificent. Perfect milky swells with dark pink nipples that were already tight and erect. Her body was perfect, dipping in at the waist before coming out to her curvy hips, her legs coming together in a “V” where all her secrets lay.

  She stepped out of the dress and came to me, still wearing her heels. They clacked on the parquet floor, and she moved her hips from side to side. Mesmerizing. Hypnotizing.

  She stood in front of me, completely comfortable in her own skin. Her pupils were dilated, her lips parted in half a smile, mostly lust. She wasn’t shy; she wasn’t trying to cover up. She was stunning in her most sincere form.

  I shifted to the edge of the seat, put my arms around her thighs, and pulled her a little closer. She let me, taking a step closer to me so that she stood between my knees. Her hips were right in front of me. She spread her legs a little so that her legs were open. An invitation. Her confidence in her own body was the real turn on, but shit, her body was one for the books. The kind of body you saw in magazines, but she wasn’t airbrushed.

  I reached forward and touched her between her legs with my fingertips, testing the water. She looked at me, eyes drowning deep and a naughty smile on her face, and she didn’t pull away or stop me. I probed deeper, pushing my fingers between the folds. She was wet and wanting. The scent of her sex reached me and made me dizzy. Sweet and eager. I could get high from her natural scent, the smell of sex.

  I pushed my fingers into her, and she gasped. Her body was soft and inviting, clenching tightly around my fingers. I had to taste her. I wanted to have my mouth all over her body, but right now there was just one place I wanted to go.

  I leaned forward and put my lips on her. That smell turned into a taste on my lips, and I nearly came. I flicked my tongue over her clit, the little nub hard with her arousal, and she moaned. She tipped her head backwards, which pushed out her breasts, and she buried her fingers in my hair.

  I licked her, tasting her, listening to her moans and tailoring what I was doing to her. With my fingers, I pushed in and out of her, and I sucked and licked her clit. I dragged a flat, wide tongue over her, lollipopping her slow and lazy-like. Her body shuddered in my hands and my cock twitched, wanting in.

  I wasn’t done yet.

  She was getting closer. Her body was soft and supple in my hands, and she tensed and released every now and then, her body already mimicking the motions of sex.

  Her breathing sped up, her body shuddered again, and then her mouth opened in a silent O. I kept sucking and pumped my fingers harder, and then another shudder racked through her body, harder and stronger than before. She moaned, clenching her fists in my hair. She orgasmed in my mouth, and I felt her clamp down on my fingers, the contract and release, contract and release of her muscles making me twitch in my own pants again.

  When she came down from her orgasm, she let go of my hair.

  “You’re still dressed,” she said in a breathy voice.

  “I can fix that,” I said. I pulled my fingers out of her. They glistened with her juices, and I still tasted her on my tongue. I unbuttoned my shirt and shrugged out of it. The belt and pants were next, but I kicked off my shoes before I pulled it over my feet. The socks were last.

  I stepped closer to her again, and my cock pressed against her skin. I felt my own wetness, the tip oozing against her skin with anticipation and lust. I kissed her, holding her against me, skin on skin, and turning her toward the couch as I did. I lay her down as we’d been before, this time with nothing between us. She spread her legs, and I got in between them.

  “God, Rip,” she said, and I took it as an invitation that she didn’t have to issue twice.

  I pressed my tip against her entrance, and she gasped. I’d slept with her once before, and this was even better than I remembered. And I remembered it to be fucking good.

  I slid into her, and her body clamped down around me, tight and insistent. I groaned, resting there a little so she could adjust to me, and I could adjust to her.

  Then I pulled back out again, just far enough that the tip was still inside of her. She gasped and my balls tightened, the friction feeling like ecstasy. I wanted more. I wanted all of her. Lust built inside of me in a wave, and I pushed into her again, fast and hard and all the way to the hilt. She gasped again and moaned out loud, arching her back so it pushed her breasts up. It was the most erotic thing I’d seen in a long time, and I’d been with a lot of girls.

&nbs
p; I continued my motion, pushing and pulling, pumping harder and harder. Her body rocked with the movement, her breasts jiggling, and those nipples were puckered and hard. I balanced on one hand and groped her with the other hand, pinching and tugging before I let go of her again and leaned down to kiss her.

  She wrapped her leg around my waist, and when I fucked her, I went even deeper. Her breath was a constant pant in my ear. By the sounds of it she was close to another orgasm. I wanted to ride her until she came again, but I was getting close too, my balls squeezing and that delicious tightness spreading through my body.

  I didn’t want it to be over, not yet, so I dropped down to my elbows and slowed down all the way. My chest was against hers now, my bare skin on her breasts. She was breathing hard, her heart hammering against my ribcage. I moved my hips slowly, stroking her body with mine.

  “Let me get on top,” she said in a breathy voice close to my ear. I didn’t hesitate. I liked it when women took charge. I liked it when Alex told me what to do, both when it came to cards, and now with sex. She had a hell of a character and a backbone to boot. It made her beyond sexy.

  I’d been with women who were technically hotter than Alex. Bigger tits, better ass, smoother skin, a tan. But none of them had had the personality Alex had, and that was what pushed me over the edge with her. That was what made her so irresistible. If only women understood that looks meant nothing when all you did was give away sex like loose change.

  Alex wriggled out from underneath me and waited until I was on my back. She tried to straddle me, but her one leg came up against the back of the couch.

  “Wait,” I said and turned so that I was half-sitting against the back of the couch, my ass on the very edge of the seat. She got on top of me, more than enough space for her legs on both sides.

  She made small movements, grinding her hips and moving her chest in a movement that looked a lot like a lap dance. I was thinking about coming, and she wasn’t even on me yet.

  She sat down, and my tip was in her slit. She lifted herself slightly and then dropped back down so that I slid up and down in the fluids that we’d mixed together.

  She was driving me crazy, building suspense and being a cock tease.

  Then she sat down on me, and I slid into her, deep. She gasped and moved around a little, finding her groove.

  I put my hands on her hips. She moved her hips forward and back, moving me with her. I guided her with my hands, but it wasn’t necessary—she knew what she was doing.

  She started rocking on me. Her breasts bobbed at my eye level; her hands were on my chest. Her hips undulated, her muscles contracting and releasing around me. The rest of her rubbed against my pubic bone, and she closed her eyes moaning. Her hands went to her own breasts, giving me a show as she pulled on her own nipples and massaged her engorged breasts.

  Her cheeks were flush, lips slightly parted, and she gasped.

  She was getting closer. I could tell by the way her hips were bucking harder and a natural rhythm took over, sex becoming instinctive. She put her hands on my chest again, bracing herself against me.

  I could feel my own body responding to her rocking. She moved faster and faster on my cock, and she was so tight and getting tighter. My balls squeezed tighter.

  A moment later she orgasmed, crying out and then curling onto my chest, burying her head in my shoulder. Her body convulsed and a spasm rocked through her.

  She was still moving, but barely, and I took over the motion, rocking my hips into her, using the edge of the couch as something that would let me topple over the edge.

  The renewed motion and her clenching on my cock sent me over the edge. Just as her orgasm subsided, I launched into mine, my balls tightening and releasing my load deep inside of her. She moaned again, and I knew she could feel me coming. I pumped into her for what felt like forever, and she was right there with me, her nails digging into my shoulders and her breath hard in my ear.

  Her body shuddered on top of me, and when my orgasm finally died down we were both gasping and panting, breathing hard.

  After a moment, she pushed up and looked at me. Her eyes were shimmering, her pupils still dilated. Her skin was slick with sweat, her hair stringy around her face.

  She leaned back and then lifted up, letting me slip out of her. I felt how tight she was, rubbed raw. She was swollen. Sexed. Delicious.

  All of that was because of me, and I loved it.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said softly and lifted her leg to get off me. She looked like she tested her balance for a second, and then walked away from me, ass swinging, still not making any move to cover up.

  When she’d left the room, I found my boxers and pulled them back on. I found my shirt, too, and shrugged into it without buttoning it up. A couple of minutes went by. I found my smokes in my jacket pocket and walked to the kitchen where I opened the back door and lit up.

  It was dark, street lamps in the distance beyond the perimeter wall, the cherry glowing red inches from my face as I inhaled.

  “Here you are,” she said behind me. I turned around, flicking ash into the garden as I did. She’d untied her hair, and it hung in waves over her shoulders. She wore men’s boxers—I tried not to think who they could have belonged to—and a Mickey Mouse t-shirt.

  “I needed a smoke,” I said. “I didn’t want to be rude and smoke inside.”

  “Thank you,” she said and switched on the light. It drove away the darkness and the calm; the magic of the night disappeared with it. “Would you like me to make you something to eat?”

  I nodded, blowing the last mouthful of smoke into the night so the streetlights blurred behind it. Then I flicked the butt into the flowerbed and turned around to sit at the table.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Why are people always hungry after sex?” I asked Rip when he sat down at my kitchen table. I didn’t usually like smokers—it was a bad habit—but the smell that hung in the kitchen now was a mix of his cologne, cigarette smoke, and sex, and it smelled good.

  It reminded me of the sex with him, both times. Rip always had the faint smell of smoke clinging to him, and I was starting to relate that to good memories.

  “I think it’s because it’s such hard work,” Rip said. When I looked up at him, he was smiling slightly, a glimmer in his eyes more than the curve of his mouth. Hard work was right. It had been short and sweet but definitely not watered down. I’d realized during the past week with Rip that nothing he did was watered down. He did everything so intensely that he almost overdid it. His eagerness was endearing. I smiled too.

  “It doesn’t feel like work,” I said.

  Rip chuckled.

  I looked around the kitchen like there were answers in the air between us. “What are we having?” Food was the best thing I could think of now, and if I weren’t so lazy I would suggest we go out to grab something. But I was comfortable in my pajamas, and I didn’t want to break the lazy sexy spell that was cast between us.

  Cooking it was.

  He shrugged. “What do you have?”

  I opened the fridge and stared at the contents. It was running on empty; I had to make a run to the grocery store in the morning. However, I had eggs and Feta cheese, and we could make toast with it.

  I took out the eggs and pulled the toaster from one of the cupboards and balanced it on the counter with one hand. I stepped from side to side, moving my hips. My muscles were stiff from our activities, and I could still feel Rip inside of me, an echo of his body penetrating mine. An erotic shudder travelled through me, and I felt it lick up my core again when I thought of his mouth, holding me at his mercy. My body got hot, and I considered round two, but that was pushing it.

  “When are you getting the cash to the brothers?” I asked. We had to get it sorted as soon as possible. They’d invited Rip to that game, and they were going to expect returns. I also wanted to know when I was getting my cash, but I didn’t ask that out loud. It seemed like a hell of an anti-climax, talking about fin
ances after what we’d just done.

  I just had to trust that he would leave me my share when he went. I was going to put my trust in him—even though it wasn’t who I was—because I had to trust someone at some point, and if there was any place to start, it was with my business partner.

  “I’m going to pay a visit to Rumor’s Lounge tomorrow night,” he said. “Thugs don’t have bank accounts, apparently.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think they do a lot of things the legal way. Bank accounts leave paper trails. Can you see any of them standing in the queue at the bank to cash illegal drug money or something?” The imagery was funny, and we both chuckled. It all made sense, but it was inconvenient. Having to look them up personally didn’t always go down very well. But that was how it was, it was a fact you had to deal with if you decided to play this game.

  And we were playing it.