Page 58 of Playing to Win
“Do you eat them right now? During football season?”
“Not if I can help it,” he admits.
“See, that’s the problem. I eat too many. I eat raw dough too.” The horror. Why haven’t I died of food poisoning or whatever? “I’m gross.”
He chuckles. “You are the furthest thing from gross, Red.”
There it is. The nickname I thought I hated but really don’t. I smile at him. And he smiles at me, just as he shifts downward to press his mouth upon my skin, making me suck in a breath, forgetting all my troubles. He kisses my breasts. Licks and sucks my nipples until I’m clutching him to me again, writhing beneath him, my body needy, my mind growing hazy and unfocused. Until all I can think about is the pulsating between my thighs and how much I want him to touch me there.
I’m desperate for him to touch me there, but are we moving too fast?
Yeah, we’re definitely moving too fast. I gave him a big speech about dates and how many it takes before I’ll get naked with someone, yet here I am…
Meeting him for our non-date and letting him have his way with me. If he ditches me after this, I’m going to be so pissed.
He shifts lower, his mouth on my stomach, and I’m tempted to talk about my junk food diet again, but I remain quiet. Reminding myself that I need to let go of my insecurities. I should focus on the way he makes me feel so incredibly sexy.
And he does. He kisses the skin just above the waistband of my shorts, his fingers reaching for the button at the front. He lifts his head, his gaze questioning, and I nod before I overthink what’s about to happen.
He slides back up, his face in mine, his mouth returning to mine, and I get lost in his kiss, my mind vaguely comprehending that he is undoing the front of my shorts. Sliding the zipper down and spreading the fly open, his fingers barely brushing the front of my panties.
A jolt runs through me at first contact and I moan against his lips, immediately wishing he’d touch me more. As if he’s a mind reader, he slips his hand into the front of my shorts, pressing against my throbbing center, cupping me completely.
I break away from his still seeking lips to catch my breath, focusing on the way his fingers mold to my pussy, his middle finger pressing harder, parting me.
“You’re soaked,” he whispers at the same time he slides his fingers up, like he’s going to stop touching me, only for his hand to shift back downward, once again cupping me fully.
I don’t know what to say, so I just reach for him instead, pulling him down so our lips touch once more.
He continues rubbing, pressing against me, making me shiver and moan. And when he slides those magical fingers beneath my panties and touches my bare flesh, his thumb brushing my clit, I almost shoot off the bed, it feels so good.
His mouth never leaving mine, we kiss and kiss, my hips moving with his hand, his thumb strumming my clit. He slips a finger inside me and oh my God, that feels good too. It all feels so good.
I’m already close.
It takes maybe another minute of his continuous attention to my throbbing clit and I’m coming, my body shaking as the delicious waves take over me. I break away from his kiss, lost in the sensations sweeping over me and when it’s finally over, I lie there for a moment, trying to catch my breath.
Ace kisses my forehead. My temple. My cheek, while slowly removing his hand from between my thighs. I cuddle close to him, overwhelmed with exhaustion. He wraps his arms around me, tucking me into him, and press my face against his chest, thinking I could fall asleep so easily like this…
And I do.
EIGHTEEN
ACE
I wakeup to the mattress shifting, my eyes cracking open to find my bedroom is still shrouded in darkness.
And the girl who fell asleep in my arms after I gave her an earthshattering orgasm is no longer in my bed.
There’s rustling in the dark, a muttered curse, and I sit up, trying to see in the dark. “Ruby?”
“Oh.” My eyes adjust and I spot her standing at the foot of my bed. I can just barely make out what I think is a sheepish expression on her face. “Hey.”
“What are you doing?” I clear my throat, scratching the back of my neck. I don’t remember turning off the light before I fell asleep, but maybe I did?
“I’m headed home.” She sits on the edge of the mattress, her back to me and I can tell she’s putting on her shoes.
I don’t remember her taking off her shoes at any point when we were so—heavily focused on each other, but she must’ve. I don’t remember a lot of details from our interaction, thanks to drinking a little too much, but I do remember all the kissing. How much she enjoyed me focusing on her perfect tits. And the way she coated my fingers when I stroked her hot, wet pussy.
