Beautiful Player
Page 41
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“Show me?” I asked, “I don’t know how to with clothes on.” I paused, adding in a whisper, “Or even off, I guess. I mean obviously.”
He laughed, kissing over to my ear and growling quietly as he nipped at my earlobe. The way his hands moved over me, the way his lips slid across my skin . . . touching like this seemed as second-nature to Will as breathing.
He exhaled into my neck, groaning quietly. “Move under me. Find what feels good for you, okay?”
I nodded, shifting beneath him and feeling the hard press of his c**k between my legs.
“Can you feel that?” he asked, pressing meaningfully against my clit. “Is that where it feels good?”
“Yeah.” I moved my hands to his hair and pulled hard, hearing him hiss in a breath as he rocked against me, faster and faster.
“Fuck, Hanna.” He pushed my tank top up over my ribs, bunching it above my chest. And then he bent, gripped my breast, plumping it, and sucked a nipple deep into his mouth. The air left my lungs, my hips pressed up from the floor, searching. I scratched at his skin, and was rewarded each time with a mumbled curse or groan.
“That’s it,” he said. “Don’t stop.” His mouth followed his hands everywhere and I closed my eyes, feeling the heat of his tongue as it moved over me. He kissed my lips, my throat. The ache between my legs grew and I could feel how wet I was, how empty, how much I wanted his mouth against me, his fingers inside. His cock. We slid along the floor and I felt something wedge beneath my back, but didn’t care. All I wanted was to chase down this feeling.
“So close,” I gasped, surprised to find him looking down at me, lips parted and hair falling across his forehead.
His eyes widened, blazing with thrill. “Yeah?”
I nodded, the rest of the world blurring as the feeling between my legs grew, becoming hotter and more urgent. I wanted to claw at my skin and beg him to take off my clothes, to f**k me, to make me beg.
“Fuck. Don’t stop what you’re doing,” he said, rocking his hips forward against me, the perfect drag of heat and pressure exactly where I needed. “I’m almost there.”
“Oh,” I said, my fingers twisting in the thin fabric of his shirt as I felt myself start to fall, closing my eyes as my orgasm moved down my spine to explode between my legs. I cried out, calling his name and feeling him speed up as he moved against me. His fingers pressed tightly into my hips as he pushed once, twice, grunting into my neck as he came.
Feeling seeped back into my body one limb at a time. I felt heavy and limp, suddenly so exhausted I could hardly keep my eyes open. Will collapsed against me, his breath hot on my neck, his skin damp with sweat and warmed by the fire.
He pushed up onto his elbows and looked down at me, his expression drowsy and sweet and a little timid. “Hi,” he said, a crooked smile sliding into place. “Sorry for sneaking into your bedroom, teenage-Hanna.”
I blew the bangs from my forehead and smiled back. “You’re welcome there anytime.”
“I . . . uh,” he started, and laughed. “I don’t mean to rush off but I sort of . . . need to clean up.”
The absurdity of the entire situation seemed to bubble up out of nowhere and I started to laugh. We were on his floor, I think I had a shoe or something lodged under my back, and he’d just come in his pants.
“Hey,” he said. “Don’t laugh. I said it’d be your fault.”
I was suddenly so thirsty and licked my lips. “Go,” I said, patting his back.
He kissed me softly, twice on the lips before pushing himself to stand and walking into the bathroom. I stayed there for a moment, sweat drying on my skin and heart rate slowly returning to normal. I felt both better and worse. Better because I was actually tired, but worse because the new echo of Will’s c**k moving between my legs was infinitely more distracting than the memory of his fingers.
I called a taxi, then walked into the kitchen to splash some cool water on my face and get a drink.
He came back into the room wearing different pajamas, and smelling of soap, and toothpaste.
“I called a cab,” I assured him, giving him the don’t-worry look. His face fell—or it seemed to—but it happened so fast that I wasn’t sure I believed my eyes.
“Good,” he murmured, walking over to me and handing me my sweatshirt. “I actually think I’ll be able to sleep now.”
“Just needed the orgasm,” I said, grinning.
“Actually,” he said, voice deep, “I’d tried that a few times already tonight. It hadn’t worked so far. . . .”
He laughed, kissing over to my ear and growling quietly as he nipped at my earlobe. The way his hands moved over me, the way his lips slid across my skin . . . touching like this seemed as second-nature to Will as breathing.
He exhaled into my neck, groaning quietly. “Move under me. Find what feels good for you, okay?”
I nodded, shifting beneath him and feeling the hard press of his c**k between my legs.
“Can you feel that?” he asked, pressing meaningfully against my clit. “Is that where it feels good?”
“Yeah.” I moved my hands to his hair and pulled hard, hearing him hiss in a breath as he rocked against me, faster and faster.
“Fuck, Hanna.” He pushed my tank top up over my ribs, bunching it above my chest. And then he bent, gripped my breast, plumping it, and sucked a nipple deep into his mouth. The air left my lungs, my hips pressed up from the floor, searching. I scratched at his skin, and was rewarded each time with a mumbled curse or groan.
“That’s it,” he said. “Don’t stop.” His mouth followed his hands everywhere and I closed my eyes, feeling the heat of his tongue as it moved over me. He kissed my lips, my throat. The ache between my legs grew and I could feel how wet I was, how empty, how much I wanted his mouth against me, his fingers inside. His cock. We slid along the floor and I felt something wedge beneath my back, but didn’t care. All I wanted was to chase down this feeling.
“So close,” I gasped, surprised to find him looking down at me, lips parted and hair falling across his forehead.
His eyes widened, blazing with thrill. “Yeah?”
I nodded, the rest of the world blurring as the feeling between my legs grew, becoming hotter and more urgent. I wanted to claw at my skin and beg him to take off my clothes, to f**k me, to make me beg.
“Fuck. Don’t stop what you’re doing,” he said, rocking his hips forward against me, the perfect drag of heat and pressure exactly where I needed. “I’m almost there.”
“Oh,” I said, my fingers twisting in the thin fabric of his shirt as I felt myself start to fall, closing my eyes as my orgasm moved down my spine to explode between my legs. I cried out, calling his name and feeling him speed up as he moved against me. His fingers pressed tightly into my hips as he pushed once, twice, grunting into my neck as he came.
Feeling seeped back into my body one limb at a time. I felt heavy and limp, suddenly so exhausted I could hardly keep my eyes open. Will collapsed against me, his breath hot on my neck, his skin damp with sweat and warmed by the fire.
He pushed up onto his elbows and looked down at me, his expression drowsy and sweet and a little timid. “Hi,” he said, a crooked smile sliding into place. “Sorry for sneaking into your bedroom, teenage-Hanna.”
I blew the bangs from my forehead and smiled back. “You’re welcome there anytime.”
“I . . . uh,” he started, and laughed. “I don’t mean to rush off but I sort of . . . need to clean up.”
The absurdity of the entire situation seemed to bubble up out of nowhere and I started to laugh. We were on his floor, I think I had a shoe or something lodged under my back, and he’d just come in his pants.
“Hey,” he said. “Don’t laugh. I said it’d be your fault.”
I was suddenly so thirsty and licked my lips. “Go,” I said, patting his back.
He kissed me softly, twice on the lips before pushing himself to stand and walking into the bathroom. I stayed there for a moment, sweat drying on my skin and heart rate slowly returning to normal. I felt both better and worse. Better because I was actually tired, but worse because the new echo of Will’s c**k moving between my legs was infinitely more distracting than the memory of his fingers.
I called a taxi, then walked into the kitchen to splash some cool water on my face and get a drink.
He came back into the room wearing different pajamas, and smelling of soap, and toothpaste.
“I called a cab,” I assured him, giving him the don’t-worry look. His face fell—or it seemed to—but it happened so fast that I wasn’t sure I believed my eyes.
“Good,” he murmured, walking over to me and handing me my sweatshirt. “I actually think I’ll be able to sleep now.”
“Just needed the orgasm,” I said, grinning.
“Actually,” he said, voice deep, “I’d tried that a few times already tonight. It hadn’t worked so far. . . .”
