Page 6 of Playing for Keeps

The girl laid down on the bed, dragging me in with her. She settled against me, surrounded by my arms. My fingers stroked a lock of hair that had fallen across the bed, and I breathed in her sweet scent as her breathing slowed.

My body jerked, my eyes blinked open. It was four in the morning according to the clock by the bed. I sucked in a breath of Jen’s apple blossom scent, then looked down to find her staring up at me.

“You fell asleep.” Something playful played across her face, her lips tipping up as her eyes sparkled in the dim light.

I yawned and stretched, and the girl moved in my arms, turning until her front was to mine.

“I didn’t expect you to stay.”

“I told you I would.”

“But I figured you’d leave.”

There was hopefulness lining her voice, and I wasn’t sure how to read it.

“Did you want me to go?”

She shook her head, and those slim hands of hers ran along my chest. “No, I hoped you’d stay.”

“Jen.” I ran the backs of my fingers up her neck, sweeping her long hair away from her face. She chased my touch, one fluid, graceful movement that brought back memories of us dancing the night before. And like last night, her lips touched mine. Though this time, that touch was hesitant, soft.

Relishing in the feel, I closed my eyes and pulled her close. I ran my tongue along the seam of her lips, and she opened to me, letting me in. Our tongues rolled together, dancing a dance that felt so new yet familiar at the same time.

Jen’s hands cupped my cheeks, and my fingers tightened in her hair. She gasped as I tugged, breaking the connection of our mouths. But I didn’t mind. Didn’t care. Because she’d tipped her head up, leaving her long neck exposed.

I licked along the column of her throat, sucking and nipping at the skin as I roamed. Jen let out a moan that I felt in my groin, her hands smoothing down the curve of my chest.

“Vinny.” My name was a whimper and a plea, falling from her lips as my own reached her chest. She arched her back, her robe falling open, exposing the smooth, silky skin at the swells of her breasts.

“Jen,” I whispered back, my hands moving lower, tugging her hair as she pressed her chest up toward my lips. She wrapped one long, long leg around my own, and my knee rose until it was pressed to her hot core. “Fuck.”

“Please,” she gasped, raising her hips, riding my leg the way she had on the dance floor. “Please, Vinny.”

Slender fingers tore at the belt of the robe. My own slid the thick fabric over her shoulders and down her arms. She was nearly naked. Wearing nothing but that tank and a thong. Then she shifted, her hands yanking at the shirt, and all the blood in my body went rushing between my legs.

“Fuck.”

She was beautiful, better than all the fantasies that played in my head. Tits full and perfect, her nipples puckered and dusky pink. A hint of her ribs peeked out above a flat, tight stomach. There wasn’t a single flaw on her body, and it made my eyes seek out her slightly crooked teeth.

“You’re gorgeous,” I told her, and something in her face changed. Like she was waiting for me to find something wrong.

But there was nothing wrong. Nothing, except that I wasn’t touching her.

Lowering my face to her breasts, I sucked a tight, puckered nipple into my mouth. She gasped and groaned, like this sweet torture she was putting me through was torturing her, too. Her hands grasped at my shoulders, her fingers slipping into the collar of my shirt. And she pulled, tugging at the fabric, trying to take it off.

Releasing her breast, I yanked off my shirt. And the girl, her quick fingers worked at my jeans. I was naked, hovering over her, in a minute that spanned a year. Then she was gripping me in her hand, lining me up.

“Please, Vinny,” she begged again, her body rising, trying to greet mine.

My eyes caught hers, caught the plea deep within them, and I notched the blunt head of my dick just inside.

Together, we gasped. Together, we arched, her body raising higher, taking me in. It was a slow glide, our connecting. Slow and steady, until I was seated as far as I could go. I stilled, squeezing my eyes shut, enjoying the moment. And the girl, she slid her hands down to my ass, gripping and pulling, tugging me closer, making me feel every slight movement in my hard, throbbing dick.

“Please,” she whimpered, and I started to move. Pulling out slightly, then pushing back in.

It was torture, pure hell. The urge to fuck her hard coming from nowhere. My lips found her neck, my tongue tracing her jaw. And those hands of hers gripped and scratched at me, like she was trying to take me out of my skin. My hand tangled in her hair, yanking harder than I thought, but the cry from her lips just begged me for more.

My hands roamed her body, painting it like a canvas. My mouth covered hers, devouring her cries. We moved together, rocking, swaying, her body pulsing and swallowing me as I pumped into her. My fingers slid between us, gathering her wetness and coating her clit. And she bucked against me, her body lighting up. Each rise of her hips was followed by a cry. Each pulse of her cunt broke something inside.