Page 18 of Playing Mr. Perfect

“One night,” she says as she climbs onto the bed. “That’s all this is.”

“We’ll see about that.” I leisurely explore the dips and curves of her body with my hands and mouth, taking her right up to the edge of release and holding her there. She moans and gasps with every touch, begging me for more. Hearing her beg only makes me want to stave off her orgasm longer, to revel in her greediness for me. When I finally give her what she needs, “Clay—” flies from her lips, and I devour every last drop of her essence as she writhes against my mouth, moaning and mewling.

When she finally collapses to the mattress, gasping for air, and runs her fingers through my hair as I kiss my way up her body. I soak in that intimate touch until her hands slide off my head, landing lightly on my arms, and I drink her in. Her skin is flushed, her eyes closed, and her hair a mass of shiny locks spread over the pillow. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. “Still with me, sweetheart?” I’m not an endearment guy, but with her, sweetheart comes naturally.

“Barely,” she whispers, her eyes fluttering open.

My chest tightens at the sweetness and trust staring back at me. I lower my lips to hers, intending to go slow, but I can’t hold back. Passion builds so fast, and I kiss her for so long, we both nearly lose it. I tear my mouth away, gritting out, “Your mouth fucking owns me. I love kissing you.”

She pulls my mouth back to hers, and our bodies meld together as we feast on each other. I grind my hips, and she bows beneath me, grabbing at my back, moaning into my mouth. I give her the friction she craves, grinding my erection against her clit. We’re a brewing storm, thunderous and sharp, gaining strength with every rock and moan. The need to be inside her is primal. I reluctantly tear my mouth away and get up to grab a condom from my wallet, quickly sheathing my cock. She reaches for me as I come down over her.

Our mouths fuse as our bodies become one, and she’s so fucking tight, my vision blurs. “Ohmygod,” she whimpers, and I know she feels it, too. I move slowly at first, trying not to give in to the exquisite pleasure coursing through me. I lift her leg at the knee, spreading her wider, taking her deeper. “Ah,” she says against my mouth. “So good.”

Her pleasure heightens mine, and she gazes up at me with a mix of lust and something akin to confusion. I get that, because we fit together like two pieces of a fucking puzzle. I’m overcome by a feeling of rightness like I’ve never known. Nothing has ever felt this good. Before that can fuck with my head, I reclaim her mouth, and we begin to move. When we find our rhythm, we’re in perfect sync. Our kisses turn feverish, my thrusts deep and purposeful. Our bodies take over, and there’s no holding back. We grope, claw, and claim, kissing, biting, and sucking. Our skin grows slick with sweat, her moans and my curses filling the air. This is not just sex. This is something all-consuming. Something unstoppable and wild, and I want more of her.

I slide my hands under her ass, lifting and angling her hips. She hooks her feet around the backs of my thighs, taking me impossibly deeper. “Clay.” The desperation in her voice is underscored by the way she’s clinging to me like a lifeline. I realize with a start that I want to be that lifeline. I want to be the anchor that grounds her the way nothing else can.

As if she can hear my thoughts, she kisses me harder, meeting my every thrust with a rock of her hips. The pleasure is torturous, drawing me deeper into the soft, trusting beauty beneath me. I quicken my efforts, pounding into her, rough and greedy.

Her legs are tight around me, and her head falls back, her face a mask of pleasure. I seal my mouth over her neck, sucking hard. Her breaths come in fast bursts, fingernails cutting into my skin as she surrenders to our passion. “Clay—”

This time my name sounds like a fucking curse. Her pussy pulses tight and hot around my cock, and my release crashes over me like a bullying wave. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, gritting out her name as the world disappears, and I’m lost in a sea of pleasure so vast and new, I never want to hit shore.

Chapter Six

Pepper

Wakefulness comes with a faint throb in my temple, eased by the luxurious feel of soft sheets, the scent of something sweet and spicy, and the blissfulness of being completely and utterly sexually satisfied. Panic flares in my chest, and my eyes fly open. I lie stock-still for fear of waking Clay as last night comes reeling back in vivid color and surround sound. Images flash in my mind of Clay’s face buried between my legs, his eyes gleaming with lust as he made me moan and writhe and beg. Beg! Nonononono. I don’t beg for sex! I squeeze my eyes shut against that mortifying reality, and his voice traipses through my mind—Spread your legs for me, baby. Now watch me pleasure you—sending my traitorous body into a heated shudder with the memory of his talented mouth, hands, and body giving me the best orgasms of my life.

Shitshitshit.

How could I let this happen? This is all my sisters’ fault with their stupid drinking games and flaunting their happy coupledom. All that kissing, cuddling, and whispering with their men!

Breathe, Pepper. Just breathe.

It was just sex.

Three rounds of hot, vocal, dirty sex, to be exact.

And a blowjob.

The memory of beckoning him to the edge of the bed hits. Oh God. What was I thinking? I don’t even like giving blowjobs.

But I enjoyed it with Clay. I wanted it. I craved it.

So much that I did it twice.

And swallowed.

That was a first.

Everything about last night was a first.

Holy cow. Who was that woman?

My stomach knots up as the full scope of my debauchery rolls in.

How could I go against everything I believe in and have a one-night stand with an athlete?