Sacking The Player

“This is it, Amaya. I’m done playing games. I’m not with the pretend bullshit. We’re together.”

I can only nod as I am still recovering.

“Let’s go back and finish up in there.”

“No way in hell, Courtney isn’t coming home tonight, she’s going with Adams to the afterparty. My place. And if you say no, I’ll go back in there and tell Barbie she won you instead,” I say with need. “I’m getting my money’s worth out of you.” I smirk at him. “I want the full Tate King experience.” I grin.

I pull him down by his unruly hair before he can reject my idea, kissing him. Tonight, tonight finally, I will have The King inside me. I run my fingers down his torso softly and go as far as batting my lashes. God, I want him.

“Let’s go,” he growls breaking off our kiss.

I’m about to protest until I realize we’re not going back to the party. I want to jump up and down and squeal in delight. Instead, I start jogging so we can get down to business faster.

Tate stops me mid-step and suggests I get on his back, making a crack about my short legs not keeping up with him. I offered his jersey back, but he said I’d just be taking it off him in a few minutes. He must want this as much as I do.

We get back to the tower in record time. He lets me down by the lobby doors and some onlookers ooh and aww at us like we’re a side show. I ignore them though, I’m on a mission, to have my way with my man.

In the elevator, Tate has me pressed against the wall planting feather light kisses down my neck and across my chest. The elevator stops on my floor, and when the doors open, I have to tap Tate on the shoulder to make him stop feeling me up long enough for us to walk down the hall to my suite.

I can barely get the door unlocked I am so excited. Tate has to do it for me. As soon as the door shuts, were on each other like rabbits. His mouth claims mine as he walks me backwards to my bed. I shed my shirt and Tate unbuttons my pants, sliding them down to my ankles. After I step out, I move to his button, sinking down on my knees. I unzip him and yowzah, he’s gone commando tonight.

“One might think you were expecting to get lucky tonight.” I raise my brow and shove his pants down. Before he can respond I graze his shaft with my tongue, and he hisses.

“As much as I’d love for you to do that right now, I want this to be better than that,” he tells me. He pulls me up, gently nudging my shoulder, ordering me to get on the bed.

“I’ve wanted this since I first laid eyes on you in the dance hall.”

“Me too, “I confess.

He lowers himself over me, bearing his weight with his forearms. The heat of his body presses into me, not too heavy, just right.

He kisses me softly, sweetly. Nothing like when I dated Keith. I push thoughts of him and comparing the two of them far away. This is about Tate and me, no one else. Tate is all about taking his time and making sure he’s pleasing me, not that its taking much effort. He seems to know how to make my body respond with the faintest touch, and the whisper of his kisses as they trail from my neck, down my chest, until he reaches my most intimate spot.

My fingers skim across his shoulders, dancing their way into his hair.

One finger, then two opens my walls emotionally and physically. His mouth hums against my bundle of nerves as my hands tug on his hair, wanting him closer.

Tate touches me so deep, branding me with all that he is and all that he can give. I never want this night to end. My legs are wrapped around his hard body as he raises up and meets my mouth for a kiss. I’m saved from an awkward condom conversation when he reaches to the floor and pulls one from his pants pocket. He tears it open with his teeth and a chuckle.

When our bodies come together it feels oh so right. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here in this moment with him. Sex with Tate is natural, and nothing feels forced. You’d think we’ve done this a million times. He rocks gently against me, sweet and tender as our hips rub.

“You’re so beautiful, Amaya.”

“You too.” Oh, my gah, I did not just say that. I clamp my hand over my mouth and close my eyes hoping he was too caught up in the moment to hear me make an idiot of myself.

He stops moving and stills inside me. Shit. He probably thinks I am so weird.

I peek at him and he’s grinning. “You think I’m beautiful, huh?”

“Yes,” I squeak.

He pulls out and pumps into me, slowly.

“Good to know. I may put that on a t-shirt. My girl thinks I’m beautiful.”

I smack his chest. “Okay, it was weird. Can you fuck me now?”

He stops again. “We don’t fuck. Amaya, we make love.”