PLAY ME: A Kinky Reads Title

by Dukey, Ker

  A small laugh escapes her. “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh.”

  Reaching over, I blindly feel for my desk lamp and turn it on. Yellow light bathes my little victim. Her eyes are hooded, her lashes blinking lazily at me. Brown hair that was once radiant is now messy as fuck all around her head. Fat, plump lips are puckered, begging for more kisses. I want to fully erase the red lipstick and replace it with me—my taste, my scent, my cum. With each breath she takes, her tits jiggle. I look forward to the day I can ravish them with my teeth. Releasing her hands, I rise to my full height, raking my gaze down the rest of her body. Her black panties are askew and clearly drenched. My dick strains against my slacks.

  Fuck, she is a lesson in self-control.

  I take her hands and pull her to her feet, steadying her wobbly legs. For several minutes, I simply stare at her, drinking in her soft, pretty features. Her wide, green eyes. The innocence that ripples from her despite the depravity in what we just did. When I’m sure she won’t collapse, I let go of one of her hands to smooth out her hair. She closes her eyes, tilting her head up, allowing my gentle touch.

  Something hot clenches in my chest.

  Foreign but fierce.

  I like this power I have over her. The power to help her. The power to make her feel good. The power of making her plump lips twitch into the slightest of smiles.

  “Thank you, Joshua,” she murmurs, reopening her eyes. “You’re a good friend. I’m glad I chose you.”

  The tightening inside my chest ceases, growing cold once more. Friends. We’re friends. Mostly, she’s a client. Nothing more.

  She stands on her toes, gives me a quick peck to my cheek, then walks away.

  The warmth in the room goes with her.

  6

  Vibrating. There’s no other word I can think to explain it. Every nerve ending is alive, ignited. I’m aching in the best way possible. I’ve never had someone make me feel so awakened. Every part of my body responded to his touch, his voice, his control, because I knew, in reality, I held the power, and there was nothing to fear—only to feel.

  Brushing down my hair, I slip into the bathroom to make sure I’m presentable. Eyes trail me like a hunter tracks their prey. He’s watching me. I can sense him. There’s something so intense between us, it feels like I’ve known him forever, like I’ve been looking, waiting, expecting him always. I know I’m just in a state of arousal telling me it’s more than it actually is, but I don’t care. I’m going to allow myself the elevated state of pleasure to keep me floating on air and fantasizing there’s this cosmic connection between us burning like an inferno. Nothing is putting us out.

  Looking at my mussed hair and smudged lipstick causes a smile to curl my lips. I can’t stop it from spreading up my flushed cheeks. There’s no going back after this. I’m not coming back down after tasting the high that is Joshua Tuck. I look like I’ve just been royally fucked, and I love it. It’s a good look on me. Pulling a paper towel from its holder, I rub the smeared lipstick from around my mouth and reapply.

  “Money or a man that’s got you smiling like that?” a woman asks with a knowing smirk as she adds mascara to her lashes in the mirror next to mine.

  “Man.” I blush, biting my lip.

  “Damn, girl, don’t let that one get away.” She winks.

  It’s then it sinks in. This isn’t a girl meeting a boy and sparks flying. I’m paying for this feeling. For this pleasure. I can’t let my emotions evolve. This is a transaction. A friendship. I can’t let my guard down and allow my heart to be at risk. With a new resolve, I chuck the paper towel in the trash and shrug my purse on my shoulder.

  “Excuse me,” I politely say as I shove through the girls crowding the entry of the bathroom. Not one of them apologize. I decide right here and now I’m done being the pushover—the meek girl who doesn’t speak up when people are assholes.

  “Can you form a damn line and move the fuck out of the way of the door!” I bellow, making them scatter like chickens in a pen with a fox. I raise my chin and beam all the way through the club. I’m almost at the exit when a firm hand grabs my wrist, pulling me backward.

  I don’t know how, but my instincts tell me it’s not Joshua. My hackles rise, sending my defenses into awareness. Turning fast in their grip, I curl my fingers, the heel of my palm ready to connect with their nose. I freeze in place when I recognize the man before me.

  “Rocko, hey.” I half laugh, half choke. It’s weird seeing him after so long and in this kind of club. I awkwardly duck my head to hide the heat burning my cheeks.

  “What are you…? No, wait, sorry, I know why people come here. Thrill-seeking,” he mumbles, shaking his head, stuttering over his words.

  Damn, is that embarrassment crawling up his neck and cheeks?

  Rocko the Cocko is blushing?

  “It’s been a long time. How have you been?” he asks, trying to start a normal conversation in a very abnormal circumstance.

  “Erm…good, thank you. I was just leaving.” I cringe.

  “You look good. God, how long has it been?” He rubs a hand across the back of his neck.

  “Long.” I shrug and take a step back. He reaches out, but doesn’t touch me. It’s a gesture to keep me there—to keep talking. A bartender calls out to him, and it’s then I realize he’s holding a stack of glasses in one hand. “You work here?” I ask, looking back at the bar, then around the booths.

  “This is my brother’s place. I don’t think you’ve ever met him, but yeah, I help out when things get busy.” He has the same intensity in his eyes as his older brother. There’s more innocence to his features than the rough edges of Joshua’s.

  I’ve met him all right. He just made me come two minutes ago.

  The thought sends a ripple of pleasure flooding between my legs.

  “Oh, cool.” I nod, still feeling completely awkward, but also needy for more from Joshua. The longer I stay here, the higher the risk of me begging him to take me in every possible way—tell him to fuck me raw and rough on his desk, against the wall, the bar, the floor.

  Shit, was he saying something? “Well, it was great seeing you.” I smile weakly, retreating a couple more inches.

  “We should catch up some time when it’s not weird.” He laughs, and it makes me chuckle.

  “Sure.” I shrug, not committed. I spot Joshua across the room and duck in front of Rocko to keep him from noticing the exchange. “Listen, I need to go. Good seeing you, though.”

  I give him an awkward wave and flee before he can stop me. The last thing I need is to explain to him I was just in there being dry humped by his brother because I’ve negotiated his services for the thrill.

  Urgh, this ruined the night. Old memories surface. Shame drenches me like a tidal wave of black sludge. Can I ever feel clean, worthy of my pleasure?

  Yes, with Joshua.

  I hope.

  As soon as I climb into my car, my phone buzzes in my purse. I scramble to retrieve it once my doors are safely locked.

  Joshua: I can still smell you on my fingers.

  My thighs clench. Heat floods through me as I reply, eager to play this game.

  Me: I can still feel the lingering sensation of your fingers inside my pussy.

  I let out a giggle as I imagine the look on his face.

  Joshua: You’re a filthy little slut. Touch your pussy and tell me if it’s still wet for me.

  There’s no doubt I’m still soaked. The man has a magical touch.

  Me: I’m so wet, aching.

  Joshua: Rub your clit for me.

  People laugh as they walk by, startling me. Not the time or place.

  Me: No.

  Joshua: RUB YOUR FUCKING CLIT, RED.

  Demanding man. If I were home, I’d gladly do it. With a defeated sigh, I reply.

  Me: Night, Joshua.

  I start the car and go home. Alone.

  Unable to sleep, I test the water in the bathtub and slip into its warm depths. Joshua’s still
prominent in my mind, the echo of his touch still humming on my skin. I reach for my phone, careful not to soak it as I reread our text exchange and smile. He didn’t respond after my last one, and I can’t help feel a little disappointed. I’m tempted to write another message, tell him I’ve been tossing and turning because he has my body so wired, sleep eludes me. But I bottle it and throw my phone over on a pile of fresh towels.

  Dipping my head under the water, I run my hands through my hair and freeze when I hear a distorted thumping. Bolting up, water splashes over the side of the bath and my heart begins to pound. Did I imagine that?

  Thump-thump.

  Shit. I dart from the tub and grab the robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, covering my naked form with it. My phone pings with an incoming message.

  Joshua: Little Red, Little Red, let me come in…

  Oh my God. Maybe I underestimated him.

  Tiptoeing down the hall, I see his silhouette through the glass panel of my front door and my heart begins to pound for an entirely different reason. Before I have the door fully open, he pushes his way in, making my breath flee my lungs.

  His broad, dominating build cages me in, backing me into the wall of my hallway.

  A meaty hand wraps around my throat, and he leans down to my ear. “The wolf is hungry.”

  My thighs clench and stomach pools with an ache only he can relieve me of. “Then take your fill,” I growl through the small pocket of air he allows me.

  Tutting, he wags a finger in my eye line, then releases me, stepping back, resting his back on the opposite wall. “You’re going to give it to me.”

  “No,” I challenge, but my tone gives me away. It’s breathless and needy. My nipples have peaked, showing through the silk robe, the dampness from my skin causing the fabric to cling to me like a second skin.

  “I want to see you,” he tells me. There’s no edge to his tone this time, and that makes my heart skip a beat. “Show me all of you, Little Red.”

  “And if I don’t?” I ask boldly.

  He grins, darkness storming in his eyes. Darting forward, he pushes at my shoulders, ripping down the fabric and stripping me of my robe.

  A heavily inhale, then a hiss passes his lips as his eyes devour their reward. My chest heaves in rapid breaths, my pussy flooding with need.

  I like his eyes on me.

  I feel empowered by the effect I have on him.

  “Like what you see?” I murmur, seductive and intense.

  His fingers grip my wrist, dragging me up the hallway into the dining room. Pulling out a chair, he sits, then jerks his head to another chair. “I want you to put your foot on the seat, spread those pretty pussy lips for me, and show me the prize inside.”

  Before I can protest, he barks, “Do it.” A million lightning bugs spiral through my body at his harsh command. I’m fucking crazy turned on and know I’ll be soaked for him.

  I lift my foot, turning my knee to prop my leg for him, giving him a clear view of my lips parting.

  Reaching out, he brushes the pad of his finger through my folds. We both groan our appreciation on contact.

  “You feel like wet silk, Red,” he growls. “Touch yourself. Show me how you like to finger fuck that sexy cunt of yours.”

  My leg threatens to give out from his words sending jolts of pleasure through me.

  “Be my dirty little slut, Red,” he demands. “Fuck that pussy for me.”

  I tentatively slip my hand between the apex of my thighs, teasing us both, caressing the slit before two fingers find the sopping wet hole and move inside. I crush the heel of my palm against the hood of my clit, pushing down hard and thrusting my fingers. I’m so fucking soaked, the sounds make my cheeks heat.

  “Look how wet you are, little slut, your cunt is begging for my dick. Tell me you want to be fucked.”

  “No,” I breathe, almost coming all over myself.

  “Your pussy is telling me otherwise. Listen to your juicy cunt, all swollen and dripping,” he taunts.

  His fat erection punishes the zipper of his slacks. I ache to taste him, touch, feel it spreading me open, fucking me painfully rough. I need him to take over, to spread me out on the table and take his feast.

  “Look what you’re doing to me,” he groans, rubbing a palm down his slacks.

  “I want to see you,” I moan, a sheen of sweat breaking over my flesh as I find a rhythm that’s going to take me over the edge.

  “I’m right here.” He smirks.

  “Bare,” I tell him.

  Tilting his head with a smug smile on his lips, he goads me, “If you want something, take it.”

  I do want it.

  I’ve never wanted anything more.

  Boldly, I slip my fingers from my folds and hold his gaze as I drop my leg and stalk the couple steps to him. His eyes study me, waiting, watching, daring. I got this. He makes me feel like a fucking queen, and I am one. Dropping to my knees before him, I roughly grab his knees and shove them apart, making him chuckle. He won’t be laughing for long. I dance my fingers up his leg, wiping my scent on his slacks, marking my territory. I fuck him with my eyes as I do, biting on my bottom lip. He shifts in his seat, the lust burning bright in his stare.

  Reaching for his zipper, I drag it down. A little gasp leaves my lungs when I see just how big his bulge is. It felt big pushed against me in his office, but seeing it is entirely different. Gripping a hold of his waistband, I tug down his slacks and boxers in one sweep. His cock bounces up in welcome. I pucker my lips and kiss my way up the thick, veiny length of him until I get to his delicious tip, licking the pre-cum from his little slit. Taking his balls in my hand, I gently massage them, feeling him out and learning his body.

  Slumping back in his seat, he growls, gripping my hair. “Don’t tease you naughty, little bitch. Open up and take me down your throat.”

  I fight back the immense pleasure his words bring me and open up, allowing him to throat fuck me. His girth tests my limits, but he doesn’t let up. His grip tightens as he pistons his hips, making me gag and my eyes stream. I feel his cock pulse over my tongue as I bring him to the edge, slurping and sucking around him.

  Suck and tease.

  Moan and groan.

  I take him all the way to the brink of pleasure and push him off with a well-timed scrape of my teeth along his shaft. Pulling out with a roar, his hot seed spurts from the fat, pink mushroom head in thick ribbons all over my face and chest. I’m in a frenzy of arousal, rubbing his cum into my skin and licking my lips.

  “I want your cock inside me,” I tell him, losing all inhibitions.

  “You look pretty covered in my cum, Red.”

  “Now, fill me up with it,” I dare him, my pussy throbbing for attention.

  Pulling me to my feet, he crashes his lips to mine. I wrap my arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he jerks me off the floor, his large hands palming my ass cheeks. Dropping my ass to the table edge, he sucks at my tongue, exploring every inch of my mouth. I want to tilt my hips and slide down his beautiful cock, but all too soon, he pulls away, taps me on the nose, and says, “Night, Red.”

  7

  It’s been two days since she sucked my dick, and it’s all I can think about. She’s already an addiction I can’t seem to rid myself of.

  She thinks she’s ready to take this further.

  I knew she wanted more the other night, and fuck, how I wanted to give it to her, but my inner alarm bells were ringing. Something’s not right. And when I saw her talking to my brother with apparent familiarity, it only made me want to get to the bottom of things. To understand who she is. Why she is the way she is.

  We’ve been toying with each other like a cat and mouse and it’s making me crazy in all the right ways. I’ve had a lot of clients, a lot of sexual partners, but never has one brought out such an intense need in me. I want to devour her, and at the same time, take care of her. I want to take her fantasy and make it a reality, one she can handle. No, fuck that, not
just handle, thrive within.

  But first, I need more information.

  Thankfully, the man with that knowledge is finally working.

  “Where you been, man?” I ask, slapping my palms on the bar where he’s slinging drinks.

  “I just spent my two days off buried between the thighs of a hot piece of ass.” He waggles his brows. “She has a sister.”

  “That’s just wrong on so many levels. The answer is no, Rupert.” I chuckle at his antics.

  “Why do you call me that? You’re such a dick.”

  “It’s your name.” I smile smugly. I call him it to wind him up. Who hates their name so much they want to change it and ends up with Rocko?

  “Only you and mom use my real name.”

  “So, the other day I saw you talking to a brunette…” I change the subject.

  “I speak to a lot of brunettes.” He grins, cocksure. But he knows this one is different. I know he does based on the glint in his eyes. She doesn’t see how fucking stunning she is, but every guy noticed her when she walked into this club that night. She was like a bunny in the trap of a thousand trackers.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I grumble. “For real. Spill.”

  “Quinn.” Her name rolls easily off his tongue. “Remember I talked to you about her when I was in college?”

  “You told me about a lot of girls in college. Wait, was she someone you’ve been with?”

  That will irritate the fuck out of me if he slept with the girl I’m chasing. Literally. Not to mention if she were lying to me about it.

  “No, she wasn’t like that. Quinny’s a good girl.”

  A rush of relief drowns me. I don’t want to dissect why I was holding my fucking breath waiting for his answer. I’m losing my mind. This isn’t like me.

  “Something happened to her,” he whispers, and my stomach drops.

  Dread coils up my muscles. I know something terrible happened, but I’ve tried not to dwell on it too much. It pisses me off on her behalf.

  “Do you know what?”

  He pales and absentmindedly swipes the bar with a rag.