Southern Player (Charleston Heat 2)

Picturing Luke in his big cozy bed, no shirt, smelling like the shower, uncut cock bulging against the thin fabric of his sweats—

I’m surprised I don’t have a fembot moment, my head exploding from too much hairy sexiness.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” I ask.

“Gracie. I promise I’m okay with this, and that you’re not bein’ a bother. I’d let you know otherwise.”

“Okay.” I let out a breath. “Okay.”

A beat of uncomfortable silence. Now that we’ve agreed to do this, I feel a little…awkward. Since I’m the one who initiated, I need to be the one to take the lead here. I’m just not quite sure how to do that.

I try to focus on the sensations moving through me. Focus on what Luke said yesterday.

Tell me everything.

You got the prettiest little pussy I ever seen.

Yup, that’s it.

“If you were here, you’d…” I say, switching my phone from my right hand to my left. How did this bathtub sex thing go down with Max and Jane again? “You’d come into my bathroom and kneel beside the tub.”

“There bubbles in that bath? Or is the water clear so I can see everything?”

I glide my hand down my chest and cup my breast. “No bubbles. I use epsom salts.”

Another groan. “What do your tits look like?”

“You look at them, and my nipples get hard. So you roll up your sleeve and you reach down, cupping one.” My pulse is drumming. But I’m too turned on to stop. “You play with my nipple.”

I start to do the same, running my thumb over it. A slow, patient circle. Just how Luke would do it. A charge of heat bolts through me, landing in my clit.

“Aw. Aw, yeah. Okay.” He sucks in a breath. “Then what?”

“Then you’d play with the other. Eyes on my face the whole time. You’d make me wet. Really, really wet.”

“You like it when I play with your nipples,” he says.

“I’m playing with them right now.”

“Fuck. Gracie—honey, I gotta touch myself. Tell me how.”

I bite my lip. Luke took charge last night. But he’s asking me to take the lead.

I am the one calling the shots.

The thought excites me.

I don’t know why I’m surprised by this. I guess I didn’t think I’d like dominating. Too much exposure to Christian Grey or something.

But I am turned on by it. The idea that I have complete control over this giant piece of man. No denying that.

Immediately resistance rises up inside me. Too weird too dirty too embarrassing.

I hesitate.

But then I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. Then another. My body blinking awake with awareness as I walk those negative thoughts back.

Luke is handing me one of my fantasies on a silver platter. I don’t know when I’ll have an opportunity like this again.

I have to take it. I owe it to myself to try.

My heart marks a staccato beat. Try. It. Try. It.

Try it.

I pinch my nipple.

“You gonna do exactly as I say?” I ask.

“Down to the stroke. Yes. But for fuck’s sake, make it happen sooner rather than later. I’m hurtin’, baby.”

Another charge of heat. My body is winding up. Curling tight in anticipation of release.

“Take your hand and move it down your chest. Go slowly.”

Luke lets out this little breath. I see him in my head. Phone cradled between his ear and shoulder as his big, broad hand wanders down his big, broad chest. Fingers catching in his wiry, blond-red chest hair.

“Now touch your nipples,” I say, lust shooting through me as the words leave my mouth. “Pinch them.”

I wait. And then—

Then he hisses. “I like that.”

“Imagine it’s me biting them. Licking them. Would you like that, too?”

“Ah. Ah, Gracie I—uh huh.”

He’s losing his shit.

He likes to be dominated as much as I like to dominate.

Time to jump in with both feet.

My hand dips below the surface of the water. “You want to wash me. So you take a washcloth. Get it nice and soapy.”

“And then,” he pants, “what do I do?”

“You wash me between my legs. They fall open, and my hips start to roll against your hand. Your thumb hits my clit through the washcloth.”

“Fuck fuck fuuuuck. Baby, let me touch myself. Tell me to touch myself or I’m gonna die.”

My middle finger slides into my folds. “Pull your sweats down. Not all the way. Just over your hips.”

I hear him breathing hard. “Okay. They’re down.”

“Tell me how your dick looks. But no touching it. Not yet.”

He sputters. “I’m—it’s hard, baby girl. So hard for you. There’s a little cum on the tip. And the vein—there’s two that—you can see them. Baby, please. Lemme touch it.”

I remember the feel of his cum on my lips. Slick, a little sticky. I was so vulnerable in that moment. So exposed. But I also felt powerful. Luke’s obvious adoration—his barely restrained lust—it made me feel like a fucking rock star.