Play With Me

by Alisha Rai

She smiled faintly, but there was a hesitancy about her that hadn’t been there earlier. Was she also blown away by their coupling? He didn’t know. Couldn’t ask.

  He did know that her continued toplessness was both sexy and strange, seeing as how they weren't smack in the middle of one of their games. He cleared his throat. “Do you want to do up your...?” He gestured to her chest.

  Tatiana blinked and glanced down. “Oh.”

  “Did you forget you were half naked?”

  “Maybe.” She peeked up at him from beneath her lashes. Her hesitancy had diminished, coy teasing directed his way. “Plus, you didn't tell me to cover myself. Sir.”

  His cock stirred. “Good girl. You can fix your dress.”

  Her lashes dipped down, and she retied her halter, removing those pretty tits from his sight. Belatedly, he kicked himself. He should be maximizing naked breast time, yeah? Moron.

  But with both of them clothed, he was moderately more comfortable sitting next to her on the couch, arm extended to drape over the back. He shifted. Shifted again. The sofa felt uncomfortable and alien. Strange. This was his favorite piece of furniture in the entire place, one he’d personally chosen for its butter-soft leather and cushioning embrace.

  It’s her. She was the reason behind his discomfort. There wasn’t much distance between them. The fact that there was any bothered him.

  Not questioning the urge, he reached across the small gap and pulled her on to his lap. She was so petite, her weight barely registered. Wyatt adjusted her until she was arranged to his satisfaction, her round ass caressing his cock.

  She was pliant, but he still felt as if he needed to explain himself to her. “I want you here,” he growled.

  “Then I'm here.” She kissed him, her warm lips moving over his, her tongue flitting out to flirt. There were no hidden meanings in her words. And even if there were, he wasn’t going to dwell on them. He was too busy enjoying these sweet, unhurried kisses, reminiscent of the beginning of their relationship. Other kids at school had thought he was a big stud, but he’d barely kissed girls before Tatiana came into his life. For the first couple of dates, they’d sat in his car, giving each other these slow, drugging kisses, until he’d had to break away, play the good guy, and drive her home. The great thing about being a grownup was the ability to indulge desires. The passion boiled over fast, the kiss turning hard and deep. Pulling her panties to the side, he loosened his pants to release his cock and sank home.

  Mentally, he grimaced over the fact that he was essentially repeating the same moves a second time tonight. Next time, he consoled himself, next time he’d manage something more creative than simply shoving clothes away and himself inside of her.

  Or maybe this time. When she tried to turn, to straddle him, he kept her sitting sideways, which he knew would add to her feeling of helplessness. She couldn't move, couldn't even try to get away.

  He kissed his way down her throat, adding small love bites to her flesh. Her skin was delicate, and he bet she still bruised easily. He wanted to mark her so she would see his possession for days afterward. He needed to mark her.

  She shifted in his lap, her tight pussy nearly tempting him to change her position and ram himself until he came inside her.

  “You're not wearing a condom,” she gasped.

  Goddamn. No wonder she felt so scalding hot.

  He hadn’t been with a woman bare since…her. She’d been the only one. Back when they’d both been too young and stupid. He was older now, but still stupid enough to mutter, “Give me a second,” and steal another kiss while he reveled in the feeling of her pussy rubbing against his naked cock. Christ, talk about nostalgia.

  “Now, Wyatt.”

  He groaned, but he wasn’t a complete moron. They no longer had the luxury of having been each other’s only lovers. Or being in a long-term relationship with other precautions in place. The rules were different now. He pulled out, cursing when his cock met air, too cold after being inside her heat.

  The condom was, blessedly, in his pants pocket. She lifted herself off him slightly while he donned it, and then he yanked her back down on his lap. They both groaned when his cock sank inside of her again. She whimpered and squirmed on him, trying to gain some purchase and ride him.

  The knock startled them both. She turned and looked at the door, the small glittery earrings in her earlobes swinging at the movement. “Who...?”

  “Room service. Shit, the staff is too fast.”

  She gave a breathy laugh and braced her hand on his shoulder. “We can finish this once they're gone.”

  He stayed her, a glimmer of an idea taking place in his brain. A naughty, bad idea. “Or we can finish it while they're here.”

  “Wha—?”

  He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch. Esme had bought the thing for him last Christmas, a huge bulky monstrosity he couldn't figure out where to put. She had appeared so proud, he hadn't the heart to tell her that he wasn't much the type for cozy afghans sprinkled around his home.

  Besides, it had kept his feet warm a time or two. Now it could keep Tatiana's pussy warm for him.

  He draped the blanket around them so they were covered from the waist down, and shifted to reach for the remote on the coffee table, a movement that ground him deeper into her wetness. She gasped. He swore. He clicked the TV on, tugged her closer as a movie began playing at low volume, and cleared his throat. “Come in.”

  Chapter Eight

  Was the man mad?

  Mute with aroused alarm, Tatiana had her answer a second later when he bid room service to enter. “What are you doing?” she gritted out.

  His arm was braced around her back. He tightened it, pulling her closer. “Don't make a scene, love. They won't know where my dick is unless you tell them.”

  She tried to control her erratic breathing as the door swung open and two young men wheeled in two carts. Objectively, she supposed Wyatt was right. To the entire world, they looked like a couple cuddled on the couch, watching a movie and waiting for dinner.

  Only she and Wyatt knew that his cock was so deep inside of her she could practically feel it in her throat.

  The men nodded to Wyatt. “Sir.”

  “Thank you for being so quick,” Wyatt said warmly. But what did he care, she thought. He would get a high-five if they knew what he was doing right now. Men.

  His hand brushed her thigh, and she inhaled. He’d worked it beneath the blanket, while the other casually held the remote in plain view. Thankfully, the afghan was thick enough and large enough that the men wouldn't notice what was going on beneath it. She hoped.

  “Where would you like us to set the food up, sir?”

  Just leave, so I can fuck this man.

  Wyatt paused for an agonizingly long beat of time, while his hand drew circles on her inner thigh. “Tell me,” he asked her, all solicitous concern, “did you want to eat here, or on the dining table? There are candles there. Might be more romantic.”

  She didn’t miss his emphasis on the word candles. Or the dancing mischief in his eyes. One utterance of the safe word, and the men, the risk, the threat of being caught by his employees would vanish.

  Like she would miss this?

  “Here,” she finally cooed, calling his implicit dare, raising the stakes. “Why don't you set it up on the coffee table in front of us? It's so cozy here, we don't want to leave.”

  His hand tightened on her thigh, and he jerked the leg toward him, opening her up to where she was impaled. “It is cozy.”

  Both men wheeled the carts over and started to set out the plates on the oversized table. She was conscious of every inch of Wyatt pressed up inside of her, of the scent of their bodies and sex in the air. Wyatt's fingers pinched her clit at the exact second they opened the first silver dome. She gasped. One of the waiters glanced at her, and she gave him a weak smile. “It...looks so good.”

  Wyatt's chest vibrated against her back. “Why don't you try a taste? Here, John, hand her that pl
ate of calamari, why don't you?”

  The other man beamed and hastened to do as he was told, handing her the small appetizer, as well as a hand towel. She accepted them with a murmur. Her finger brushed against the waiter's just as Wyatt's thumb rubbed her clit in a slow circle. His cock flexed, stimulating the tissues.

  She bit her cheek to keep from whimpering and quickly popped a calamari into her mouth.

  “Is it good?” Wyatt asked her, bumping his hips up as much as he could before it became obvious he was inside her.

  She could barely taste the food. “It's hot,” she said, hoping that would explain the flush in her cheeks.

  “Hot’s not a bad thing.” He didn't cease his circling exploration of her clit, continuing the subtle pulsing of his hips. How he had the self-control not to toss her over and fuck her hard and deep, she didn't know. Craving was making her burn, and she couldn’t believe he was unaffected.

  “It has its place.”

  He smiled at her almost sweetly, the innocence a far cry from the lewd things he was doing to her hidden from view. He flicked her clit rapidly, his cock flexed again, and she manfully struggled to keep from climaxing.

  The waiters finally—finally—finished arranging the dishes and stood expectantly. Wyatt chuckled, the sound vibrating inside of her. “I don’t have any cash, guys. Do you have the bill?”

  “Sure thing, sir.” One of them held out a small leather folio.

  Wyatt withdrew his hand from beneath the blankets. She could smell herself on him. Tatiana waited in an agony of worry for the waiters to become scandalized upon realizing where it had been.

  Instead of taking their pen, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his own shiny black pen. He added a more-than-generous tip and handed the check back.

  With wide smiles, the waiters nodded and left. The instant the door clicked behind them, Wyatt shoved the blanket off her, and she gasped in relief from the lack of the stifling material.

  “Do you think they knew?”

  “Doubtful. You were quite a good little actress. As always.” The smile he gave her was respectful, one player to another.

  “I told you I’d gotten better.”

  “My apologies for doubting you.” He rolled the pen between his fingers. “But then, there were only two men. No telling how you’d do in front of a larger audience.”

  She bit her lip as his cock flexed inside of her. Was he imagining her sitting on his cock in the five-star restaurant downstairs? Maybe trying to remain motionless and quiet at a show on the strip? Silently sweating as he ground up inside of her in an exclusive boutique? “That sounds like a dare. But I need you to fuck me too much to take it right now.”

  He chuckled and placed the pen under his nose, sniffing it appreciatively like a cigar. “It seemed cruel to taunt those boys by spreading your juices all over their pen. I’d rather they be on mine.”

  “I’m sorry I ruined your pen.”

  “Please. It’s finally worth the price I paid for it.”

  He used the tip of the pen to trace the bodice of her dress, pushing it down to trace her tight nipple with the hard plastic. She arched her back, hoping he would take the hint to replace the damn pen with his mouth or hands. Instead, he slid it down her body, using it to brush aside the fabric of her skirt until they could see where she was impaled on his cock. Her panties were scrunched tight against the crease of her leg.

  “You were a very good girl, Tatiana. I think you deserve a reward.”

  Back when they’d been dating, she’d learned to get wet at the sound of the word reward. Also, punishment. Also, most everything else he’d uttered.

  He smirked, not missing her response. He lowered the pen until the hard tip was directly touching her exposed clitoris. “I don’t think this smells enough like you, though. We should fix that.” The pen circled. She whimpered and squirmed. He didn't move his cock at all, except for that flexing, a subtle pulsing.

  He adjusted the pen until it was lengthwise against her open pussy, the metal clip brushing her clit, and rubbed it up and down, forceful and deliberate. Responding to her sighs and jerks and cries, he sped up his motions. His arm flexed with the force of his movements, the veins standing out as he worked her exposed sex and let her clench on his cock. His face was focused, grim, his entire attention on making her come. The instrument became wet and slick. You creative bastard.

  “Now,” he rasped.

  The one word was all she needed to give free rein to the hunger inside of her. She keened and came on him, her pussy milking his unmoving cock, way better than any dildo she’d ever played with. With an acute knowledge of her body, he slowed down the pen, gentling his stimulation until finally he simply held it in place against her.

  She slumped on him, breathless, spent, yet all too aware of his still-hard cock lodged within her.

  He licked her throat. “You’re a very good girl.”

  Chapter Nine

  Wyatt hadn’t come. After she had lain against him for a few precious minutes to regain her breath, he surprised her by slapping her hip and picking her up off his lap. He shook his head, giving her a tight smile when she made a murmur of protest. “Let's eat first. Then we can play some more.”

  So after hastily repairing their clothes, they ended up on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, side by side. They dug in, and Tatiana smiled at the picture they must have made. They were both still garbed in their expensive designer clothes, but that was all she could really say about the outfits. Both were wrinkled beyond belief and showed evidence of their grasping hands and mouths. Well, she thought with a dose of humor, the dress had looked nice before he’d gotten his mitts on her.

  “Here. Try this. It’s a tender bite.” Wyatt held a piece of steak to her mouth. It was the fourth piece of meat he'd fed her. They were both ravenous, but while she flitted from appetizer to appetizer, he had dug straight into his main course with gusto. Healthy boys needed their iron.

  She chewed, in agreement even though she wasn’t a big fan of beef. “It's good steak.”

  “It's the best.”

  She twirled pasta around her fork and took a bite, closing her eyes over the savory and spicy sauce. “Whatever you're paying your chef, double it.”

  “Don’t worry. He already holds this corporation hostage, and he knows it.”

  They ate in silence for a while, broken by the sound of their silverware on the fine china plates. It was a companionable silence, not awkward at all.

  Tatiana glanced at him sideways, catching him dipping his steak in sauce. “Remember prom?”

  A smile curled his lips, and his hands paused. His face was unguarded, and he suddenly looked younger. “I remember I couldn't afford a tux, a hotel room, and dinner. So I had to axe the dinner, because there was no way we weren't going to have that hotel room. Not after you told your parents you were staying over at a friend’s.”

  “We had dinner.”

  He cut into his steak with obvious relish. “It was hardly a dinner.”

  “We ate. In the hotel room. Just like this, on the floor. Burger King.”

  “No. It was McDonald’s. You hated Burger King because their fries were too soggy.”

  She grinned. “You're right. I had forgotten that. I like their fries now.”

  “I can have someone run and get you some, if you like.”

  She snorted, because he sounded like he was about two seconds away from snapping his fingers and summoning his minions. “Nah. Thanks, though.” She picked up a piece of calamari and took a bite, able to actually appreciate the taste of the appetizer now that he wasn't driving her mad with his cock and fingers. “This is a long way from a Days Inn and McDonald’s, Wyatt.”

  He picked up his wine. “I won't apologize for the money. I worked hard for it.”

  “I'm sure you did.”

  His lips twisted. “Is that sarcasm?”

  “What? No. I meant it. You always were the hardest-working person I knew. Somet
imes I felt like I floated through life, but you...you powered through and got things done.”

  He was silent so long she glanced at him, only to find him watching her with a small furrow between his brows. “Thank...you.”

  She shrugged. “It's the truth. When I found out what you’d accomplished, I was only surprised you managed it as quickly as you did. But I knew you’d eventually do something big.”

  “Wow.”

  “Why are you so skeptical?”

  He shrugged his broad shoulders, his gaze on his fork pushing around his pile of potatoes. “When we broke up, I was pretty certain you thought I was worthless.”

  “What?” She was genuinely shocked. “I never said that.”

  “Please. College girl and the construction worker? ‘Uptown Girl’ was written for us.”

  That was an uncomfortable truth. Wyatt had taken college classes, but he’d been all about survival back then. Her parents had been delighted when she and Wyatt had parted ways her junior year. “I always thought you were smarter than me.”

  His jaw looked tense. “I graduated, finally, you know.”

  She hated the defensiveness in his voice. “Like I said, I didn’t.” She paused, thinking over their fights during the decline of their relationship. “If I ever gave you the impression that I thought I was superior to you just because you were going to school part-time instead of full-time, I’m sorry. I never meant to. And I never believed that. My parents placed a lot of emphasis on school and academic success.” Her lips twisted wryly. “I may have subconsciously adopted that attitude. Even if I didn’t believe it.”

  He studied her, and then gave her a small nod, his attention returning to his steak. “What made you leave school?”

  “I finally realized it wasn’t making me happy. The only thing that did was art and jewelry design. Not the art history courses I was taking, but actual design. So I told my parents, packed everything up, and headed for the West Coast.” It was a simplified version of events, but she didn’t want to get into the years of lean living and the dues she’d paid before an exclusive store owner had taken a shine to her work.