Fair Game (The Rules 1) - Page 44

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“Why not?” Now I’m offended. I reach for him again, about to wrap my fingers around him, shorts and all but he grabs hold of my wrist, stopping me.

“I don’t want you to think you—have to do this.” He drops his head against the back of the couch and closes his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Doing what?” I try to wrench my wrist out of his hold but he won’t let go. Damn it, he’s strong. I’d really like to see him naked. Everything within me goes molten at the mere thought and I squirm against him, his erection brushing against my sex and making me whimper.

“God, stop moving. Please.” He drops my wrist and grips my hips, holding me still. So still that I swear I can feel his cock throbbing against me. That’s so freaking hot. “I can’t believe that I’m turning down your offer. I never turn down offers like the one you’re making.”

Ugh. And this only reminds me that he’s a complete man-whore. “So why are you turning me down?”

“Because I can’t return the favor. You won’t let me tonight. I don’t want you to think that you have to do this as some sort of obligation.” He lifts his head so our gazes meet once more. “You confuse the hell out of me.”

I frown. “You confuse me too. My feelings for you confuse me.”

His lips quirk into this adorable little smile. Ugh, he’s just too cute. And sexy. And hot. And huge. “You have feelings for me?”

Great. Last thing I should’ve ever admitted to him. “Not like that,” I say as I start to swat his chest.

He grabs hold of my wrist again. His reflexes are impressively fast. “Then like what?” he asks quietly.

I can tell that this is A Moment. A time for me to be honest. It could go either way. Disastrous or momentous.

I’m hoping for momentous.

“I like spending time with you,” I admit in a whisper. His eyebrows lift in surprise. “You make me laugh. You make me feel good. You make me…”

“I make you what?” he urges. He’s whispering too and I realize that our position, how close we are, the way we’re watching each other, it feels so intimate. Almost too intimate.

“Want things I shouldn’t want.” I reach up and touch his hair, smoothing it away from his forehead. He closes his eyes, his lips parting and I lean in, my mouth level with his, inhaling his soft exhale. “Like you.”

And then I’m the one who’s kissing him, our mouths fused, my hands busy. I slip them beneath his T-shirt, coming into first contact with his firm abdomen and holy smokes, he’s hard there. I trace the ridges of muscle, feel his skin quiver and contract beneath my touch and I push his shirt up, wanting to feel more. Wanting to feel all of him.

“Jade.” The word is gruff, as if he’s trying to stop me but I feel like no one and nothing can stop me. I slide off of him, landing on my knees on the floor and he spreads his legs to accommodate my new position. “What are you doing?”

I almost want to laugh. He looks pained. The front of his shorts are tented with what appears to be a very aggressive, very large, erect penis and I seriously cannot wait to yank his shorts off so I can see this wonder in the flesh. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You don’t have to—” He hisses out a breath when I slip my fingers beneath his shorts and touch the inside of his thigh. It’s muscly and covered with soft hair—very masculine and big.

Everything about him so far is masculine and big.

“I don’t have to what?” I push the leg of his shorts up and start to kiss the inside of his knee, his thigh. He smells delicious. All fresh and clean, like soap and just beneath, the scent that is unmistakably Shep.

“Do this.” He chokes the words out, his head falling back against the couch again and I take my advantage. Rearing up on my knees, I reach for the waistband of his shorts and slowly start to peel it back, discovering that he’s not wearing underwear beneath those shorts.

I come face to penis within a few shocking seconds.

“Wow,” I whisper, since it’s now turned into a whisper-worthy moment. I have never before in my life thought a penis beautiful. They’re sort of funny looking. I’m definitely not into dick pics and no guy has ever sent me one, thank God. And most guys let their penises do all the thinking, which means they’re idiots.

But Shep’s is…long. Smooth. With a thick head and arcing toward his stomach in this incredibly appealing way. I lick my lips, anticipation filling my blood, making my body pound with need and I reach out, drawing my index finger down the length of him, making it twitch.

“Fuck me, Jade. You should stop.” But he doesn’t look like he wants me to stop. He’s sprawled in front of me, his arms loose at his sides and not touching me, his head still leaning back on the couch. He’s staring up at the ceiling and that sort of pisses me off because I want him to watch when I do this.

Right? I mean, I may get performance anxiety but I still want him to see. Guys like to watch. They’re visual beings. Hello, porn.

“I don’t want to stop.” I wrap my fingers around the base of his erection and hold him like that for a few long, anticipation filled seconds. Carefully I stroke him, all the way up, curling around the head, before sliding all the way back down.

The groan that escapes him does something to me. Makes my heart race, my breath shallow. I do it again, pleased when he tilts his head down so he can finally watch and the look on his face, the glow in his eyes, fills me with pleasure.

“I’m not going to last long,” he warns me. I glance up, our gazes meeting and I smile, leaning in close so I can drop a light kiss to the very tip of him. He moans and triumph fills me. “Do that again,” he demands hoarsely.

So I do. I rain kisses all over the tip of his erection, my tongue darting out to trace the flared head. He tastes clean and the slightest bit musky, velvety soft skin covering steel. Shep is cursing up a storm, like he can’t help himself and his words only encourage me to keep going.

I tug his shorts down, past his knees, until they fall at his feet and he kicks them off, spreading his legs further, allowing me in. I scoot closer, resting my left hand on his thigh, wrapping my lips around the head of his erection. He thrusts his hand into my hair, cradling the side of my face and I glance up at him, his cock still in my mouth, my body flushed and hot over what I’m doing.

This is…so unlike me. I can hardly wrap my thoughts around it.

“That. Right there. The fucking stuff of my dreams.” His voice is strained and rough, his features pulled almost into a grimace. He’s studying me intently, his fingers gripping my hair, his thigh tense beneath my palm. “Holy. Shit.”

I take it that he likes what I’m doing.

The weird thing is? I’m liking it too. I’m deriving pleasure from giving him pleasure and it’s a heady feeling. I grip the base of his erection firmly and suck him as deep as I can go, withdrawing almost all the way before I draw him back in again. His hand hasn’t left the side of my face and he’s holding my hair away like he doesn’t want to miss a thing. The farther I take this though, the more inept I’m starting to feel and I hope I don’t screw it up.

Tags: Monica Murphy The Rules Romance
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