Page 69 of Silver Player

“Billy,” I groan as tonight was supposed to be about him, not me. But when his fingers enter me on a rush, two at once, I forget all thoughts, arching once again. My thighs separate, and my mouth seeks his. He’s driving me mad, working those digits in a manner my body responds to instantly. I don’t want to come so quickly, but I can’t seem to help myself. He’s at the forefront of my daily fantasies, and it’s easy to reach the edge when he’s touching me.

“You come so quick.” He isn’t teasing me, just stating a fact.

“You do that to me,” I admit, embarrassed by the truth. A smile breaks across his mouth.

“Only means more to come,” he flirts, and I roll my eyes until his thumb flicks the sensitive nub and my eyes roll for a new reason. He knows how to play my body, and I don’t want to think of all the practice he’s had.

“How long’s it been, Roxie?” he asks without finishing the full question.

“Three years,” I admit. Three long, lonely years with only fingers and an occasional steamy book as my lover.

“No wonder it’s so quick, darlin’. But I’ll make up for lost time.” He shifts, tugging my underwear off my legs and tossing them to the floor. Lowering his face, he’s a man on a mission as his arms hold him over me, but then his face disappears between my thighs. Only his tongue touches me first, splitting me open and diving into my depths.

Sweet Jesus.

“You’re delicious, darlin’.” He parts me and enters me, and the thickness of the muscle in his mouth brings me to the edge again. My fingers comb into his hair, and my knees separate but lift.

“Billy,” I warn as my hips begin to rock, rolling upward to draw him deeper into me with his tongue. He licks faster, his tongue curling, and the pressure along with the wetness stimulates another release. I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back the scream, remembering Sadie is down the hall dead asleep.

“Fuck, Roxie. I want inside you.” He presses upward, tugging his T-shirt over his head and fumbles with the belt in his jeans. Quickly, he’s unzipping and shimming down the denim to his knees. Then he pats his pockets and searches the nightstand for something.

“My wallet. I left it locked in the truck. I don’t have a condom.” He stares down at me, his eyes hesitant but pleading.

Do I want this? Can I do this? He’s a player, and I know these things about him, but right now, I need him as much as he seems to need me. I want to be close to him, as close as I can be. I reach forward, my fingers wiggling.

“I swear on all things—on Sadie, my mother and the pub—that I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone in six months and never go without a condom. Not since Rachel.” That was a long time ago. Sixteen years actually. I dismiss this awkward conversation, struggling with the inner turmoil, but my body is winning out.

“Just pull out or—” I don’t finish as he tugs his legs out of his pants and boxers collectively and tosses the material to the floor. His lower half comes between my open legs, and he drags himself through the slickness he made on my swollen folds.

“I don’t have to enter you,” he says, watching where he rubs his head against my wet skin, and I whimper at the anticipation. “We can just play.” His voice turns playful as he strokes himself against folds and stops at the precious nub. The seeping tip of him presses against me and then he drags himself upward.

“Uh,” I groan, the sensation too much.

“Can I draw another one out of you?” he teases, working himself against my core, just outside of me, flirting with my clit enough to make me wild. My head rolls on the pillow. My fingers clutch at the sheets. He’s rocking his hips forward but not entering me. Instead, his thickness rubs along my seam, coating him in wetness, allowing him to slip and slide, and make my legs shake with the possibility. I want him inside me.

“Billy,” I hiss, begging for relief. He rushes into me with a firm thrust, and my head lifts from the pillow. My hands reach for his backside, the area I’ve often noted as hard and perfect but never knew how exquisite he was until I held those tight globes in my hand, forcing him to remain deep inside me.

“Darlin’,” he warns with strained tension in his voice. He pulls back once and then slams forward again, and I break. My legs stiffen, and my back curls. My fingers dig into his ass as I clench around him, holding him as deep as I can and as tight as I can grip because I don’t want to lose this connection. I don’t want to lose him.

My head falls back to the pillow while he begins to move in earnest. Holding himself over me with the pillars of his arms, he thrusts forward, tapping at something inside me while I lay there replete and unworthy of this worship he’s paying me. He mutters words like perfect and stunning, and how he never knew it would be like this, and then he quickly pulls out of me. Gripping himself, he squeezes his thickness, and warm liquid hits my hot skin near my pelvis. His ball sac presses against my wet folds while he relieves himself on my lower belly, and my head rolls to the side on my pillow.

Eventually, he collapses over me, his hand coming to my nape and tugging me so my mouth meets his. His kiss is nearly as intense as what we just did, and our rapid breathing gets in the way. When he pulls back, he doesn’t look at me but places his face at my neck.

“Roxie,” he whispers, and a million questions linger in my name.

“Billy,” I state, equally as confused by the wonder of his body with mine and what this means for us both because casual just got complicated.

+ + +

The day after Thanksgiving isn’t my busiest day as most people head to the outskirts of town for the faulty sales and false promotions of the larger chain stores. I’m looking forward to Small Business Saturday when people will shop local. I’m relieved the day won’t be busy as I’m exhausted when I wake. I need more sleep. Real sleep, not Billy under my head, heartbeat racing in my ear sleep.

Surprisingly, I slept until noon, startled when I realize Billy is still in my bed minus most of his clothes and nestled up close to me under my blankets. The sensation confuses me as the reality of what we did last night settles in. I could get too comfortable accepting Billy Harrington in my bed. Briefly, I wonder how others feel when Billy visits and then leaves theirs.

We’ve kissed. We’ve touched, but I have no idea how many others are still on Billy’s bedside list. It’s difficult to imagine his availability with all the time he spends with Sadie and myself, but still…he owns a bar, works late nights, and hasn’t come to my bed in the wee hours of the morning until this morning. Whose bed does he grace each evening? It’s difficult to believe he heads home alone every night.

“Where are you going?” he mutters, his arm around my waist even as I sit up, attempting to slip from my bed.

“I need to work.” It’s true, I do. Grace and I decided on reduced hours for the day due to the holiday as well as Sadie’s unplanned disappearance. It will be good to head to the bookstore. I need something to occupy my mind for a little bit as I struggle with my thoughts of what I did with Billy.