Slow Play (The Rules 3) - Page 46

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With fumbling hands I somehow manage to peel her panties off, leaving them in a rolled up ball on the floor before I resume my attack. With a hum of pleasure against her flesh I lick and suck and thrust, her inner walls flexing around my fingers as I fuck her with them. Her thighs tighten around my head like a goddamn vise and I let her. Her fingers slide into my hair and I wince when she pulls it but that’s fine. She needs something to hold onto. Her hips buck, she arches her back, my name falling from my lips in this choked gasp and I know she’s close. She’s gotta be so fucking close…

Her body stiffens beneath my mouth just before it begins to shake and shudder, her orgasm sweeping over her. A gush of wetness flows from her pussy and I suck on her clit, my fingers embedded in her body as she comes. I keep my eyes open, wanting to witness this, the moment when she falls completely apart by my hands.

Well, by my lips and tongue too.

She’s writhing beneath my mouth, her hand falling away from my hair as she arches back her head, exposing that pretty neck I love to kiss. I remove my mouth from her, dropping a kiss on top of her pussy once. Again. Slip my fingers from her still clenching body, kiss her once more and her hand is suddenly in my face, pushing me away.

“Stop. God, it’s too much,” she whimpers.

I shift up so I’m lying beside her, my hand on her cheek, turning her to face me so I can kiss her. Drown in her. She sucks on my tongue as she practically tries to climb all over my body and I roll over on my back, taking her with me.

“That was so good,” she murmurs as she rises above me, her hands braced on my chest, her hair falling down around her face. Her skin glows, her eyes shine as she smiles down at me and I know I’ve never seen a prettier sight. She’s completely naked, I can feel her hot pussy against my denim-covered dick, which feels like it’s being strangled by my jeans. I grab hold of her hips, run my hands over her ass and tug her closer, let her feel what she’s doing to me. I swear her eyes practically roll back in her head and she grinds down on me, just to make me fucking crazy, I’m sure.

“You like that?” I ask, sounding like an arrogant bastard but I don’t give a shit. I just made her come. I’ve been dying to do that since the first night I saw her. From the very first moment I caught sight of her in that angel costume, I wanted her. Purely physical at that point, now it’s turned into…

Something more. I like this girl. And I never like any girls.

“Yes.” She stretches above me, her hands in her hair as she holds it away from her neck, her back arched so she’s thrusting her tits toward me. Unable to resist I rear up, draw one perfect pink nipple into my mouth and suck. Her hands fall from her hair and land on my shoulders, pulling me in close. “Oh God, your mouth.”

“What about it?” I murmur against her flesh before I pull it between my lips again.

“You know just what to do with it.” She rubs against me, her wet pussy getting all over my jeans but I don’t care. Fuck, I want her to rub that sexy body all over me, to the point where all I can see and smell is her. “Are you my own Mr. Pussy?”

Another Sex and the City reference. I couldn’t help myself earlier when I started quoting from the show. The way we were acting reminded me of that particular episode, which I’d watched only a few days ago. There is so much a guy can learn from that show.

“Do you want your very own personal Mr. Pussy?” I kiss her all over her chest, her collarbone, the valley between her breasts. They’re small, barely a handful, with rosy pink nipples that seem to like my attention. “You just want me to eat you out all day and night?”

A full body shudder is my physical answer. “I can’t say no.”

Chuckling, l tilt my head back to smile up at her. “That relationship was doomed from the start. All she wanted was him going downtown on her.”

Alexandria runs a hand over my head, her fingers sinking into my hair. Her expression is soft, her eyes glowing, her hair a complete mess around her head. She looks like a very well satisfied woman. “Hmm, well I definitely like you for more than just your oral skills.”

My brows go up. “Really?” I should not feel happy that she just said that, right? It’s no big deal, what we’ve got going on. This is just fun and games. Yeah, I like her. Yeah, she feels…special, which makes me uneasy just thinking it. But what more can there be? A few months of fucking and then what?

I don’t know.

“I do appreciate your going downtown efforts.” She smiles. “Despite everything you’ve said and done, I like you, Tristan.”

“Despite everything I’ve said and done?” What the hell is she talking about?

“You’re awful.” She kisses me. “You say the worst things ever.” Another kiss, this one a little longer. “You’ve done your best to push me away, yet you always come back for more.” The next kiss involves a slip of the tongue, a nibble on my lower lip. “You’re funny. You’re sweet. And you quote Sex and the City.” Another sweet, too brief kiss. “I think I’ll keep you around.”

“Don’t forget that I make you chant my name when you’re coming,” I point out.

She nudges my shoulder, her lips quirked in a barely contained smile. “Shut up. I did not.”

“You so did.” I sneak my hand up into her hair at the back of her head and pull her down so our mouths meet again. “You said it over and over,” I murmur, my voice low. I need to somehow get inside her, find relief, something. I feel like I’m about to blow and I refuse to come in my jeans like some inexperienced kid.

“No,” she whispers against my lips as I kiss her. “I don’t believe you.”

“I can show you again if you want.” The kiss deepens and I roll her over so she’s beneath me. “Make you come.” I thrust my hips against hers, a slow roll that has her moaning low in her throat. “Drive you wild. Just so I can prove that I can make you say my name.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she pants, her hands reaching for me.

This man needs to be satisfied and quick. After the mind-blowing orgasm he just gave me—my God the things he can do with his tongue—I want to return the favor. I’m dying to see him, touch him.

He’s thrusting against me nice and slow, his big body pinning me to the bed. I like the feel of his weight pressing me into the mattress. He’s solid, so warm, so incredibly male and big and hard…

Everywhere.

His mouth is also fused to mine, our tongues tangling, his hands wandering. I run my fingers around the top of his jeans, slipping them down the front, his stomach muscles contracting when I brush against them. I unsnap his jeans, tug down the zipper and skim my fingers along his erection, which is straining against his underwear.

Um. Wow. He’s long. Thick. And that’s just my early assessment.

“Roll over,” I murmur against his mouth.

He nips my lower lip. “No.”

“Tristan.” I shove at his shoulder with my other hand, my fingers still curled firmly around his cock. “Please.”

“If you insist.” Just as I let go of him, he rolls over so he’s flat on his back, his arms tucked under his head, elbows out, very casual. Kneeling beside him, my gaze roams, lingering over all the good stuff on display. His biceps bulge with muscle. The wall of his chest, his flat stomach, his jeans undone and spread open, exposing the black underwear beneath, the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric.


Tags: Monica Murphy The Rules Romance
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