“It means I liked watching you play.”
“Past tense?”
“No. I still like watching you play. I just also fantasize about strangling you to death sometimes while I do it.”
“Yeah? I think about wrapping my hands around your throat too, Spitfire, but the ending’s a little different in my mind.” He reaches out and runs his fingers up the inside of my knee, and I freeze. I don’t even try to stop him.
“No murder?”
“No… but you still get all your frustrations out on me in my version.”
“Oh yeah?” His fingers climb higher up the inside of my thigh, and he presses gently to pull me closer to him.
“Yeah. You ride them out until you come hard.” He looks up at me and smirks, and then his eyes drift over to my camera. “And then we watch the replay until it makes you so wet you beg me for more.”
“That sounds ambitious.” I have whiplash from how fast this side of him appeared.
“You’ve watched me play. You know I’m an overachiever when it’s something I’m serious about.” He grabs my wrist and turns me before he pulls me down in his lap, my back to his chest and my legs barely touching the floor between his. My towel is still hanging on me by a thread.
“And you’re serious about this? What happened to me taking a shower to cool off and think about things?”
“Then I found this.” He tosses the jersey in my lap. “And now I know you’ve been thinking about fucking me a lot longer than tonight.”
I let out a stuttered laugh. “You think so, huh?”
His hand wraps around the damp ends of my hair until he has a fistful, and he pulls back on it, exposing my neck.
“Lie and tell me when we fight you don’t think about fucking me, Spitfire,” he whispers against my throat before his mouth follows, kissing a slow trail up the side.
“Sometimes I think about hurting you.”
“Good.”
“You’re due some for being such a dick all the time.” I press on because the tension is so thick, I feel like I have to talk to make sure it’s real.
“That’s probably true. You want to make me hurt, sweetheart? I’ll let you. As long as at the end you let me watch while you ride me, I don’t care.” He grabs the edge of the towel and presses a kiss under my earlobe. “Let me see you.”
I nod, and he doesn’t hesitate to rip it off. It drops to my waist, pooling around the tops of my thighs on top of the jersey. The cool air assaults my skin and whatever warmth I’d managed to get back is quickly dissipating, right along with any resistance I have to the idea of having him inside me tonight.
“Fuck me. You’re even more gorgeous than I imagined you would be. This body, Scarlett. Fuck… I don’t know how I ever saw anyone but you.” His fingers trace a line down the center of my body as I lean back against his chest. His palm splays over my abdomen, and I follow its descent with my eyes until he stops just past my belly button. “Tell me I get a fucking taste of you tonight after all the torment.”
I don’t answer. I can’t because words just won’t come for me right now. So instead I spread my thighs and put my palm over the back of his hand, pushing it down until I hear him curse against my skin. He parts me and the pad of his middle finger grazes over my clit. I’m wet and on edge from listening to him talk. So much so that I’m sensitive enough that it nearly hurts, and I gasp at the contact.
“Oh, you’ve been waiting for me. Fuck. Scarlett… You should have told me. I could’ve taken care of you earlier. You just have to ask,” he mutters against my skin as he adds his index finger, giving me the extra friction that I need as I roll my hips up to meet him.
“Fuck. I’m going to come already…” I whisper, half-embarrassed at how little of his touch it takes to bring me close so quickly. If he didn’t think I was obsessed with him after the jersey, he will now.
“That’s okay. This is just the first one. You let me; I’ll make you come so many times tonight you won’t even remember this one.”
It’s a lie. Because I’m definitely going to remember the first time I let him touch me. How gentle he’s being, how sweet his words are, and how good he is with his hands.
“You’ve been wound tight all fucking night. Let me take the edge off.” The pads of his fingers circle my clit faster, and I bury my face against his neck, the stubble on his jaw rough against my cheek as I moan against his skin.
“That’s right. Come for me. So fucking sweet and wet for me. Like a fucking dream.”
A dream because I’ve definitely never come this fast before in real life. My whole body shivers under his touch and the hot flush warms me again. Something I’m trying to process as I start to come down from the orgasm, and he slows his rhythm, sliding his fingers back up my body and smirking at the trace of wetness that trails behind. I don’t know if he’s this good or if my body is just this needy at this point, strung out from stress and a lack of sex.
I don’t have much time to dwell on it though because he’s hard beneath me, and after everything he’s done for me tonight, the least I want to do is make him come. I also don’t mind scratching that off the bucket list. An item that’s near the top of it even if I’d never, ever, tell him that.
