Beautiful Player
Page 59
The familiar squeak of the faucet sounded above the pounding spray and I turned my head toward the door. The water slowed before the shower fell silent, and I listened as he stepped out, pulled a towel from the rack on the wall, and dried himself off.
I couldn’t pull my eyes away as he walked out, his naked body moving through a slice of moonlight. Sitting up, I crawled to the edge of the bed. He stopped just in front of me, his c**k lengthening as I stared.
Will reached up, running his fingers carefully through my tangled hair before drawing a line down the side of my face and, finally, tracing my lips with his fingertip. He didn’t duck down to look me in the eye. It was as if he knew I was studying him. As if he wanted me just to look.
I swear I could hear my heart hammering in my ears. I wanted to touch him. I wanted, more than that, to taste him.
“You look like you want to put your mouth on me,” he said, his voice thick and hoarse.
Swallowing heavily, I nodded. “I want to see how you taste.”
He slid his hand down his length and he took another step closer, sweeping the head of his c**k across my lips, painting me with the bead of moisture there. When my tongue darted out to taste it—and him—he let out a low groan, letting his hand slide up and down the base as I slipped my mouth around the tip, licking a little.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “That’s so . . . so good.”
I don’t know what I was expecting but it wasn’t this, to be so turned on by the actual act, or how empowering it was to be the person who made this gorgeous man unravel. His hands moved to my hair and I closed my eyes. His breaths were ragged as I moved my mouth farther and farther onto him. Finally, I heard him swallow and then gasp with a shaky inhale.
“Stop, stop,” he said, and took a step back. He sounded like he’d been running a marathon. “You have no idea how much I’d love to let you play with me like this, your tongue and f**k, those lips, Hanna.” His thumb brushed over my chin. “But I want to be careful with you the first time you take me in your mouth, and right now I feel too wild, and too f**king greedy.”
I knew exactly how he felt. My body hummed, my pulse hammered in my neck, and I squeezed my thighs together again, feeling the sweet, impatient ache grow with every second.
He leaned down, kissed me, and whispered, “Roll over, Plum. I want to f**k you facedown.”
I could only nod, moving to lie on my stomach, my mind too hazy to even come up with a response. The bed dipped and I felt him behind me, settling between my parted legs. His hand moved along the back of my thighs, over my ass. He gripped my hips, fingerprints burning into my skin as he pulled me to my knees and farther down the bed, closer to where he wanted. I could feel how wet I was, feel it on his fingers as he moved them against me, on my thighs. My heart hammered in my chest and I tried to shut out everything but the heat of his skin, the brush of his lips and hair along my back.
I’d always understood why women wanted Will in the first place. He wasn’t beautiful in the same way Bennett was, and he wasn’t tender like Max. He was visceral and imperfect, dark and knowing. He gave the sense that he looked at a woman and in an instant read every need she had.
But now I knew why women truly lost their mind over him. Because in the end, he did actually know every need a woman had, that I had. He’d ruined me for any other man, even before the first touch. And when he leaned in behind me, dragging his lips across the shell of my ear—not a kiss, not exactly—and asked, “You think you’ll scream when you come this time, too?”—I was lost.
He reached across me, pulling a condom from the pile. I heard the foil tear, the sound of it as he rolled it over himself. I could still remember what it looked like, that thin piece of rubber stretched impossibly tight around the length of him. I wanted him to hurry. Needed him to hurry and f**k me, make this ache go away.
“I can go deeper this way,” he said, bending to kiss my back again. “But tell me if I hurt you, okay?”
Nodding frantically, I pushed back into his hands, wanting him to quell the frantic hunger inside me.
His palm was surprisingly cool and I gasped in surprise when he pressed it to my lower back, steadying me. Was I shaking? In the darkness I could see my hand against the stark white of the sheet, see the fabric twisted in my grasp, wound tight just like every part of me. “You just feel,” he said as if reading my thoughts, his voice so deep it was more vibration than sound. “I just want to take right now, okay?”
I felt the solid muscle of his legs moving between mine, the tip of his c**k as he positioned himself. With every slide of our skin across each other, I arched back, lifting my ass to change the angle and hoping that this time, this time he might slip inside.
I couldn’t pull my eyes away as he walked out, his naked body moving through a slice of moonlight. Sitting up, I crawled to the edge of the bed. He stopped just in front of me, his c**k lengthening as I stared.
Will reached up, running his fingers carefully through my tangled hair before drawing a line down the side of my face and, finally, tracing my lips with his fingertip. He didn’t duck down to look me in the eye. It was as if he knew I was studying him. As if he wanted me just to look.
I swear I could hear my heart hammering in my ears. I wanted to touch him. I wanted, more than that, to taste him.
“You look like you want to put your mouth on me,” he said, his voice thick and hoarse.
Swallowing heavily, I nodded. “I want to see how you taste.”
He slid his hand down his length and he took another step closer, sweeping the head of his c**k across my lips, painting me with the bead of moisture there. When my tongue darted out to taste it—and him—he let out a low groan, letting his hand slide up and down the base as I slipped my mouth around the tip, licking a little.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “That’s so . . . so good.”
I don’t know what I was expecting but it wasn’t this, to be so turned on by the actual act, or how empowering it was to be the person who made this gorgeous man unravel. His hands moved to my hair and I closed my eyes. His breaths were ragged as I moved my mouth farther and farther onto him. Finally, I heard him swallow and then gasp with a shaky inhale.
“Stop, stop,” he said, and took a step back. He sounded like he’d been running a marathon. “You have no idea how much I’d love to let you play with me like this, your tongue and f**k, those lips, Hanna.” His thumb brushed over my chin. “But I want to be careful with you the first time you take me in your mouth, and right now I feel too wild, and too f**king greedy.”
I knew exactly how he felt. My body hummed, my pulse hammered in my neck, and I squeezed my thighs together again, feeling the sweet, impatient ache grow with every second.
He leaned down, kissed me, and whispered, “Roll over, Plum. I want to f**k you facedown.”
I could only nod, moving to lie on my stomach, my mind too hazy to even come up with a response. The bed dipped and I felt him behind me, settling between my parted legs. His hand moved along the back of my thighs, over my ass. He gripped my hips, fingerprints burning into my skin as he pulled me to my knees and farther down the bed, closer to where he wanted. I could feel how wet I was, feel it on his fingers as he moved them against me, on my thighs. My heart hammered in my chest and I tried to shut out everything but the heat of his skin, the brush of his lips and hair along my back.
I’d always understood why women wanted Will in the first place. He wasn’t beautiful in the same way Bennett was, and he wasn’t tender like Max. He was visceral and imperfect, dark and knowing. He gave the sense that he looked at a woman and in an instant read every need she had.
But now I knew why women truly lost their mind over him. Because in the end, he did actually know every need a woman had, that I had. He’d ruined me for any other man, even before the first touch. And when he leaned in behind me, dragging his lips across the shell of my ear—not a kiss, not exactly—and asked, “You think you’ll scream when you come this time, too?”—I was lost.
He reached across me, pulling a condom from the pile. I heard the foil tear, the sound of it as he rolled it over himself. I could still remember what it looked like, that thin piece of rubber stretched impossibly tight around the length of him. I wanted him to hurry. Needed him to hurry and f**k me, make this ache go away.
“I can go deeper this way,” he said, bending to kiss my back again. “But tell me if I hurt you, okay?”
Nodding frantically, I pushed back into his hands, wanting him to quell the frantic hunger inside me.
His palm was surprisingly cool and I gasped in surprise when he pressed it to my lower back, steadying me. Was I shaking? In the darkness I could see my hand against the stark white of the sheet, see the fabric twisted in my grasp, wound tight just like every part of me. “You just feel,” he said as if reading my thoughts, his voice so deep it was more vibration than sound. “I just want to take right now, okay?”
I felt the solid muscle of his legs moving between mine, the tip of his c**k as he positioned himself. With every slide of our skin across each other, I arched back, lifting my ass to change the angle and hoping that this time, this time he might slip inside.
