Play

by Melissa Young

  “Play your cards right, and maybe you’ll find out.”

  “Challenge accepted.” I lead the way into my apartment, toward the kitchen. Most people coin it the heart of the home but we all can guess the room I deem to be the most important.

  She heads straight for the empty wine bottle I purposefully left on the counter, just in case she was a wino. She inspects it, carefully, as if she were a scientist with a microscope. “A 1995. What’s the occasion?”

  She takes a seat in one of the stools located beneath my kitchen island and I cozy up to the opposite side, keeping a healthy distance between the two of us. Not to mention, trying to hide the 9 inches trying to escape in my pants.

  I lean in toward her and shrug. “Well, it’s not as perfect as the 1996 and I didn’t want to come across as presumptuous.”

  She laughs and shakes her head, folding her legs underneath the counter. “Right. Because inviting me to your multi-million dollar apartment, presenting me with a glass of vintage wine and cooking me dinner isn’t presumptuous?”

  “I thought most women would call it romantic?”

  “I can’t argue that,” she takes back some of her words. “But it is a little over the top.”

  “No, over the top is if the wanker sends a car.” A little self-deprecating humor never hurt anyone; just my ego.

  It pays off, though; she laughs so hard she nearly chokes on her wine.

  We pause, for a moment, breaking from the nervous laughter and our eyes get caught up in each others, locked into a stare. She bats those beautifully long eyelashes at me and I notice the breath getting caught in her chest. She takes in another sip of wine before changing the tone and pace that our attraction to one another has set.

  I’d reckon she’s opening up and I couldn’t be more delighted. The growing bulge in my pants agrees.

  “Beautiful place,” she compliments. “But also not surprising.”

  “How so?” I inquire as I finally take another sip of wine as well.

  “Your $300,000 car?”

  “Oh, I have had luxury cars and still lived in shit holes.”

  She laughs. “And what do you call this place? Your palace?”

  “Am I that predictable and corny?” I jeer at her. “Wait, don’t answer that.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  “As long as the ones below your mouth aren’t, all is dandy to me,” I flirt.

  She rolls her eyes.

  “So, question?” I pause. “Is it also over the top if a bloke cooked dinner?”

  “Well, that depends on what you made?” She looks around the kitchen with a puzzled look on her face.

  “A very quintessential All-American dinner that just so happens to pair beautifully with this Barolo?”

  She giggles. “Where is this mysterious All-American dinner you speak of?”

  She keeps focusing her attention behind me, where there is a missing arsenal of cookware, utensils, and the rest of the lot. My apartment also lacks the aromas that one would expect accompanies a home cooked meal.

  Before I’m able to answer, or rather, pull something brilliant out of my ass, the elevator door dings and Jane’s attention shifts to it.

  “It’s right on time,” I joke as I look at my watch and then also fixate my attention on the elevator, where, to my relief, is a lad clad in blue and white with a pizza logo on his ball cap.

  “Home cooked dinner my ass,” she laughs.

  “Cooked dinner, failed miserably, ordered pizza instead?” I admit my defeat as I greet the bloke in the elevator.

  “That’ll be…”

  “Right…” I reach for my wallet, pass him a hefty bill without even bothering to discover the proper amount and send him back down to the street level. I need Jane all to myself and I hope this little change of plans goes smoothly with her.

  I turn around, with the pizza in tow and Jane begins an incredibly patronizing slow clap.

  So what do I do? Take a fucking bow, of course.

  Her demeanor is changing slightly, though, and for that, I’m very thankful I botched dinner and burnt it to a crisp. The once hardened and defensive front she has been sporting since last night, is slowly being chipped away at and replaced with a much more relaxed woman.

  I keep chiseling, deeper.

  “Oh, c’mon,” I begin as I walk toward her, with the two boxes of pizza in my grasp. “You have to admit, it would have been annoying if I had actually nailed a perfectly home cooked dinner?”

  She laughs and nods her head. “This does make you seem more human and less of a robot. Well played.”

  “A devilishly sexy robot, right?” I cock my brows and await her response.

  She giggles and blushes. I’ll take that as a yes.

  “So, as promised,” I slide the pizza boxes on the marble countertop in front of her. “A quintessential All-American dinner, courtesy of Joe’s Pizza on 5th and 48th. The best damn pizza I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

  “Is that so?” She teases, her body language giving me all of the subtle nuances I’m looking for. She’s bashful and playing with her hair, but still flashing me looks that scream fuck me now. Her legs are uncrossed beneath the kitchen island, swaying side-to-side, as though she’s unable to control them. Her voice suggests a more alluring tone, dropping what feels like an octave or so, far less nasally than when she hesitantly waltzed in here.

  And I’m eating it right up, so I continue on my crusade.

  “Well, I’m not a pizza aficionado or anything of the sort,” I slide my hand down my body, alluding to my sculpted physique. “But I do know a good dough to sauce to toppings to cheese ratio any day of the week.”

  She flashes me a coy smirk and opens up the pizza boxes in front of her, her perfectly manicured nails maneuvering around the front flap. She nods her head up and down and cocks her brows. “It does look and smell delicious.”

  “I promise, it’s the second best thing your lips will taste tonight.”

  She scoffs. “Let me guess, the first best thing is your dick or something else crude?”

  Dammit. Why hadn’t I thought of that?

  “No,” I slip my body around the island to meet her, finally able to narrow the distance between us. I grab the seat of the stool from under her and swing it in my direction, her legs parting from the motion and I force myself between them, our bodies touching.

  “It’s this.”

  I slide my hands between the flesh of her cheeks and the strands of loose brown hair and pull her face in gently toward me; our lips colliding for the first time in what honestly, has felt like a torturing eternity.

  I finally get my first taste of Jane and it’s just as I suspected – utterly delectable. Her lips are perfectly soft and supple, void of any lip stain or gloss so I had a hunch she was anticipating my move.

  Our lips part slightly, allowing our tongues to caress before our lips close again. I can feel Jane pulling away from me and not wanting to overstay my welcome, I allow her to release.

  Her body waffles a bit as she steadies herself. “That,” Jane looks up at me and places her hands upon my chest. “Was cheesier than this pizza you ordered.”

  I laugh. I laugh so hard my head I can feel it in the depths of my belly and my head actually snaps backward. I love her wittiness and her lack of fear of bruising my ego. She knows full well I can take the cheap shots and I think she knows even more so, how much I actually enjoy them.

  Then it hits me. I’m on a date and I’m having fun on said date.

  I release my grasp from her and pull back; my familiar walls start building up again. I cannot lose focus of what the true meaning of tonight is for me.

  Sex. Nothing more and hopefully, nothing less.

  “Are you okay?” She asks of me, concerned. “It was just a joke. I didn’t mean it.”

  I have to think of something quick. “You know what would make me feel better?”

  “If I fucked you right here on this counter?”

 
; I pause because I’m quite honestly speechless and although I’m starving, I’d much rather have her satisfy me than this pizza. “I was going to say if I could kiss you again, but hey, I’m all for fast forwarding to the rumpy pumpy.”

  “Brilliant,” she mocks my accent and pulls me in for another kiss, this time supercharged with lust and furor. Her walls are coming down and I try my best not to smile the entire duration of this passion-laced kiss.

  Her grip is tight around the collar of my dress shirt, constantly pulling me in, like she can’t seem to get close enough.

  We break from the kiss and I shift my attention to new territory on this unexplored body of hers, allowing my mouth to linger on her neck. I know the power of a good neck kiss and the ability it has to make a woman wet.

  Plus, other than the sternum, it’s one of my favorite spots to kiss.

  Soft moans hush from her lips and I open my eyes, allowing them to examine more of her, noticing the top of the zipper that runs all the way from her shoulders to the top of her ass. I glide my hands around her tight torso, enjoying every second I am able to have my hands on her, and I reach around to grab the zipper.

  “May I?” Even though I want to unwrap her with as much intensity as a kid tackling their gifts on Christmas morning, I must be a gentleman.

  “Yes, please.”

  I slowly start to unzip her dress, grabbing the metal carefully and sliding it down the length of her body. With each pull on the slider, releasing more of the elements of the zipper, more of Jane’s sumptuous skin is revealed to me.

  I must be unzipping her dress at a snail’s pace. “Is everything alright?” She asks of me, aware of my change in tempo.

  “Yes, of course,” I pause, giving my brain a moment to collect itself and to catch up to the momentum of my pounding heart. “I just, have this feeling that you’re worth savoring and I’ll regret it if I don’t take my time.”

  “That’s a fancy way of saying you’re just checking me out,” she jeers.

  I smile, relieved that she doesn’t read into my words too much and I try to swallow the accompany feelings of admiration, convincing myself that she is just like all of the other women in my past and this is no more than lust.

  But fuck if it doesn’t feel like I’m losing this battle.

  “Guilty,” I laugh and pull her in for another kiss.

  “Wait,” she stops. “Not here.”

  “Aye, the shower. Top choice.”

  She giggles and pulls me in for another kiss. “Take me to your bedroom.”

  “With absolute pleasure,” I smirk and literally sweep her off of the stool into my arms, curling her legs around my torso.

  We continue making out like the damn ship is about to go down. I haven’t made out like this since I was in Year 9 and I was only a 14-year-old lad with no proper knowledge of how to kiss let alone talk to a girl. Who am I kidding? I’ve always known how to kiss a girl. It’s just always come so naturally to me, and always felt as important and powerful as breathing.

  I lead her into the bedroom and gently place her in the middle of my plush mattress, where the only light, which just so happens to be the perfect amount, is courtesy of the busy New York City lights. You’d think it would be darker up here amongst the clouds, but it is essentially, the most romantic light I can think of. Very Frank Sinatra.

  I crawl on top of her and she spreads her legs welcoming me, revealing that her opaque tights are no more than thigh high socks and that she is sporting nothing else between her thighs.

  “Oh, and I’m the presumptuous one, Ms. I’m-Not-Wearing-Any-Knickers?”

  She laughs.

  “And you rode your bike here like that?”

  “What?” She shrugs. “It’s dark out.”

  I pause briefly to take in the vision that is atop my bed right now; her rich mahogany hair messy on the soft sheets, her dress falling off of her shoulder and hiked up, revealing the exposed lower half of her body to me.

  I sit on bended knees, near the foot of the bed, and bring my hand up to my mouth, covering it momentarily and then biting on the knuckle of my index finger. She is literally so sexy, it hurts.

  “You are one sexy surprise.”

  “Shut up and sit on the foot of the bed.”

  “Now, why would I do such a silly thing when you’re perfectly splayed on the bed, ready for me to pounce on you?”

  “Because I said so?”

  Well, she is certainly living up to her Bossypants nickname.

  “Fine, I’ll oblige.” This had better be good.

  I have my hands up in the air with defeat, looking like I’m guilty of a crime I haven’t committed and I take my place on the foot of the bed, sitting with my back to Jane.

  “Alright, I’ve listened like a good dog, what’s my treat?”

  Much to my surprise, Jane whips around my body in one swift motion, straddling me in this upright position. She has this look on her face that screams mischief but luckily for her, I’m almost always on board as long as it doesn’t result in charges, and sometimes even then.

  “I want to use this,” she starts playing with my tie wrapping it around her wrist, insinuating what is easily my dream come true.

  “You want me to tie you up?”

  “Actually,” she pushes me onto my back, still straddling me. “I want to tie you up.”

  Have mercy.

  twelve

  She starts to loosen the tie around my neck, which I debated probably a thousand times tonight if I should wear or not, but I’m happy as a clam at high tide right now that I went for it.

  She whips it off of my head and immediately starts going for my dress shirt, unbuttoning it, button by button. She really takes her time, relishing in every unclasp, exposing more of my skin to her.

  Every once in a while, her tongue escapes her mouth, moistening her bottom lip. I focus on her expressions, watching her become more and more attracted to me the closer she gets to the very last clasp.

  Once she reaches it, she slowly parts the shirt at the front, allowing the fabric to fall to each side of my body and immediately starts giggling to herself.

  “Let’s hope you don’t have the same reaction when you take off my pants.” I joke.

  “Of course you’re ripped,” she laughs.

  “Apologies for being such a cliché,” I ridicule her, rolling my eyes.

  “Don’t ever apologize for having a body like this,” her fingertips dance all around my chest and I watch as her oxblood nails scratch down the length of my abdomen. When I continue with my gaze, staring up at her straddling me, I notice her tongue moistening her lips again, looking like an animal salivating over its imminent meal.

  “Well then, in that case, you’re fucking welcome.”

  She smiles and starts undressing me more, unclasping the button on my slacks and yanking them down my trunks for legs. She doesn’t bother to remove them entirely from my body, instead, bringing her attention back up to my briefs. She carefully maneuvers around them, those nails spelling trouble if they were to swipe me in the wrong way.

  She grabs the waistband and pulls it tight toward her and then downward when her movement stops. I’m already hard as rock and she’s seeing me for everything I have to offer. Best of all, she looks hungry for it.

  I break the tension. “I know what you’re thinking and yes, it’s real.”

  She laughs this painfully sexy giggle and thrusts her body back upward on me, bringing me in for another kiss. “You’re hilarious… and impressive.”

  “You’re not afraid?” I ask of her, praying for a better outcome than the last girl.

  “Of your dick? Why would I be afraid of your dick?”

  Hallelujah!

  “Is it going to bite me?”

  I laugh. “Only if you want it to, darling.”

  “Time will tell.”

  I’m really starting to enjoy our little inside jokes and finally understand the appeal of them. Maybe they aren’t just tosh after al
l.

  She slides her body down the remainder of mine and stands before the foot of the bed, finishing removing my pants and briefs from my body, along with my socks.

  “More ties, please?”

  “Top drawer, to your right, master.”

  She twirls around and struts over to my wardrobe, fishing through the drawer to find her props. She pulls out 3 more ties and brings them over to the bed.

  “4 ties? Going for the full Monty I see? Wrists and ankles? Surely, I haven’t misbehaved that badly?”

  “Did I say you could speak?” She warns as she walks back over, fully immersed in the dominant mind frame.

  “May I suggest you sitting on my face as a way to shut me up?”

  She ignores me and begins the restraining process, latching my left ankle to the bedpost, followed by the right one. She delicately ties the knots and the faint touch of her skin in such a sensitive spot, forces me to flinch every once in a while, much to her sadistic pleasure, of course.

  She crawls back on top of me on the bed and the visual makes my dick throb with anticipation, flexing against my navel. She stops the momentum on top of me, straddling me once again, this time with her bare slit brushing against my bare cock.

  She’s fully aware of it too.

  “Wrists, please?” She insinuates for me to hold my wrists in place for her to continue her restraining fantasy.

  “Gladly,” I assent.

  When she reaches over me to confine both my wrists to the bed, starting with the left one, her dress finally falls off her shoulder and I am blessed with the most beautiful view of her breasts, as they dangle just mere inches away from my face.

  “So, please tell me what is next, master? I’m only here to serve and please you.” I say in the sexiest voice I can possibly muster.

  She admires her knot tying abilities to herself, falls to one side of me on the bed and then scoots her cute little rump directly off of it.

  Here I am, completely restrained to the bed and eagerly anticipating her next move. Not once have I been able to predict her tonight and not once has my attraction to her waned. “So, how about you take off that dress finally and come back onto the bed?”