Beautiful Player
Page 66
“Oh, stop.”
Dabbing at the cuts with a wet cotton ball, I was relieved to see they weren’t too bad. They were bleeding, but there wasn’t anything that wouldn’t heal in a few days, and without stitches.
Finally, she looked down, straightening one leg as I cleaned up the other. “I look like I was walking around on my knees. I’m a mess.”
I grabbed a couple of clean cotton balls and dabbed her cuts with hydrogen peroxide, trying—but failing—to tamp down a smile.
She leaned down to get a better look at my face. “You are such a pervert, smiling at my scraped knees.”
“You’re such a pervert, knowing why I’m smiling.”
“You like the idea of getting my knees all scraped up?” she asked with a growing smile of her own.
“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head with absolute insincerity. “I really do.”
Her smile dissolved slowly and she ran a finger over my chin, studying the little scar there. “How did you get this?”
“Happened in college. A woman was giving me head and freaked out and bit down on my dick. I slammed my face into the headboard.”
Her eyes widened in horror: her worst o**l s*x nightmare realized. “Really?”
I burst out laughing, unable to keep up the story any longer. “No, not really. I was hit in the face with a lacrosse stick in the tenth grade.”
She closed her eyes, pretending she wasn’t amused, but I could see her swallow a laugh. Finally, she looked back down at me. “Will?”
“Mmm?” I put down the last cotton ball and screwed the cap back on the hydrogen peroxide bottle as I blew gently across the cuts. Once I had it all clean, I didn’t even think she would need a Band-Aid.
“I heard what you said about wanting to be careful because of our history. And I’m sorry that I came off as too casual.”
I smiled at her, absently running my hand slowly down her calf, before realizing how familiar that was.
She sucked on her bottom lip for a beat before whispering, “I’ve thought about Saturday night almost constantly since.”
Outside a horn blared, cars sped down 101st, and people rushed off to work. But in Hanna’s apartment it fell completely silent. She and I just stared at each other. Her eyes grew anxious and wide, and I realized she was getting embarrassed the longer I took to reply.
I couldn’t push any air past the tangle in my throat. Finally, I managed, “Me, too.”
“I never thought it could be like that.”
I hesitated, worrying she wouldn’t believe me when I said, “Me, either.”
Her hand lifted at her side, pausing before reaching out. Sliding her fingers into my hair, she followed forward with her body, eyes wide open as she slid her mouth over mine.
I groaned, and my heart slammed against my sternum, skin growing hot as my c**k lengthened; every part of me felt tight and stiff.
“Okay?” she asked, pulling back, eyes anxious.
I wanted her so fiercely I was worried I wouldn’t be able to be gentle. “Fuck yes, it’s okay. I was worried I wouldn’t ever have you again.”
She stood on wobbly legs, reaching for the hem of her shirt and pulling it up and over her head. Her skin shone with a thin sheen of sweat, and her hair was a mess, but I wanted nothing else than to bury myself in her and feel her give in to me for hours.
“You’re going to be late to work,” I whispered, watching as she pulled off her sports bra.
“So are you.”
“Don’t care.”
She shimmied out of her pants. With a little ass wiggle, she turned and hopped on one foot to her bedroom.
I stripped as I walked, pulling off my shirt, kicking off my pants—and leaving it all in piles in the hallway. I found Hanna on her bed, lying on top of the covers.
“Do you need more first aid?” I asked, smiling as I climbed over her, kissing my way up her belly to her br**sts. “Does anything else hurt?”
“One guess,” she said on an exhale.
Without needing to ask, I stretched, reaching for the drawer where she’d kept her condoms. Wordlessly, I tore one from the pack and handed it to her. Her hand was already extended expectantly.
“Fuck. We should fool around a little first,” I said into her neck even as I felt her begin to roll the condom down my length.
“We’ve been fooling around in my head since Sunday morning,” she whispered. “I don’t think I need more warm-up.”
She was right. When she positioned me and then reached for my hips, pulling me deep in one, slow move, she was wet and ready, quickly pulling on my ass to get me moving fast, and hard.
Dabbing at the cuts with a wet cotton ball, I was relieved to see they weren’t too bad. They were bleeding, but there wasn’t anything that wouldn’t heal in a few days, and without stitches.
Finally, she looked down, straightening one leg as I cleaned up the other. “I look like I was walking around on my knees. I’m a mess.”
I grabbed a couple of clean cotton balls and dabbed her cuts with hydrogen peroxide, trying—but failing—to tamp down a smile.
She leaned down to get a better look at my face. “You are such a pervert, smiling at my scraped knees.”
“You’re such a pervert, knowing why I’m smiling.”
“You like the idea of getting my knees all scraped up?” she asked with a growing smile of her own.
“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head with absolute insincerity. “I really do.”
Her smile dissolved slowly and she ran a finger over my chin, studying the little scar there. “How did you get this?”
“Happened in college. A woman was giving me head and freaked out and bit down on my dick. I slammed my face into the headboard.”
Her eyes widened in horror: her worst o**l s*x nightmare realized. “Really?”
I burst out laughing, unable to keep up the story any longer. “No, not really. I was hit in the face with a lacrosse stick in the tenth grade.”
She closed her eyes, pretending she wasn’t amused, but I could see her swallow a laugh. Finally, she looked back down at me. “Will?”
“Mmm?” I put down the last cotton ball and screwed the cap back on the hydrogen peroxide bottle as I blew gently across the cuts. Once I had it all clean, I didn’t even think she would need a Band-Aid.
“I heard what you said about wanting to be careful because of our history. And I’m sorry that I came off as too casual.”
I smiled at her, absently running my hand slowly down her calf, before realizing how familiar that was.
She sucked on her bottom lip for a beat before whispering, “I’ve thought about Saturday night almost constantly since.”
Outside a horn blared, cars sped down 101st, and people rushed off to work. But in Hanna’s apartment it fell completely silent. She and I just stared at each other. Her eyes grew anxious and wide, and I realized she was getting embarrassed the longer I took to reply.
I couldn’t push any air past the tangle in my throat. Finally, I managed, “Me, too.”
“I never thought it could be like that.”
I hesitated, worrying she wouldn’t believe me when I said, “Me, either.”
Her hand lifted at her side, pausing before reaching out. Sliding her fingers into my hair, she followed forward with her body, eyes wide open as she slid her mouth over mine.
I groaned, and my heart slammed against my sternum, skin growing hot as my c**k lengthened; every part of me felt tight and stiff.
“Okay?” she asked, pulling back, eyes anxious.
I wanted her so fiercely I was worried I wouldn’t be able to be gentle. “Fuck yes, it’s okay. I was worried I wouldn’t ever have you again.”
She stood on wobbly legs, reaching for the hem of her shirt and pulling it up and over her head. Her skin shone with a thin sheen of sweat, and her hair was a mess, but I wanted nothing else than to bury myself in her and feel her give in to me for hours.
“You’re going to be late to work,” I whispered, watching as she pulled off her sports bra.
“So are you.”
“Don’t care.”
She shimmied out of her pants. With a little ass wiggle, she turned and hopped on one foot to her bedroom.
I stripped as I walked, pulling off my shirt, kicking off my pants—and leaving it all in piles in the hallway. I found Hanna on her bed, lying on top of the covers.
“Do you need more first aid?” I asked, smiling as I climbed over her, kissing my way up her belly to her br**sts. “Does anything else hurt?”
“One guess,” she said on an exhale.
Without needing to ask, I stretched, reaching for the drawer where she’d kept her condoms. Wordlessly, I tore one from the pack and handed it to her. Her hand was already extended expectantly.
“Fuck. We should fool around a little first,” I said into her neck even as I felt her begin to roll the condom down my length.
“We’ve been fooling around in my head since Sunday morning,” she whispered. “I don’t think I need more warm-up.”
She was right. When she positioned me and then reached for my hips, pulling me deep in one, slow move, she was wet and ready, quickly pulling on my ass to get me moving fast, and hard.
