Play with Me (With Me in Seattle 3)

“So good,” he mutters and pins me with his bright blue eyes. “Mine,” he repeats and then buries his face in my neck, kissing and biting and I feel my orgasm pushing up through me.

My legs tense and I push against Will’s hands, but he holds strong.

“That’s right, let go,” he commands, and I do, hard and fast, spasming around his beautiful cock.

“Ah fuck!” His jaw is clenched and he throws his head back and falls over the edge with me.

He rests his forehead against mine as we recover. “Do you work today?”

“No.”

“Good. You’re staying here with me, all day and night.”

“Good plan.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Is this really what you want to do all day?” I ask, lounging at the end of his couch. I’m in one of his old team jerseys and his boxer-briefs, since I don’t have any clothes here, and my hair is up in a knot on my head, no makeup.

Dear God, I must look horrific.

I glance over at Will, on the opposite side of the long, plush black leather couch. It’s really unfair that he looks so good in just basketball shorts and an old t-shirt.

“Why, is there somewhere you wanted to go?” he asks and flips through channels on his uber-huge television. We are in his media room, full of plush furniture, the outrageously enormous television – dear God, is he blind? Who needs a TV this big? – football memorabilia, a wet bar, a pool table. Basically a big ol’ man cave where boys can hang out and do boy things.

“No, I’m just surprised.” I lean back and plop my feet in his lap, getting more comfortable. He immediately wraps one big hand around the arch of my foot and rubs with his thumb and I sigh in contentment.

“It’s nice to relax once in a while. We haven’t really just hung out together much.” He offers me a soft smile, and my stomach flips, just a little. Gosh, he’s pretty to look at.

And he’s right. It feels good to be lazy. I’m still super tired from last night at work, and just lounging in Will’s extraordinary home with him all day is relaxing and perfect.

“Are we okay,” he murmurs, drawing my attention. His eyes are sober, and he’s watching me closely.

I turn my head to the side and offer him a half smile. “Yeah, we’re okay.”

He just nods and flips the channels to a show about whales on the Discovery channel.

“I’m hungry,” he announces.

“You’re always hungry,” I laugh and kick his thigh gently. “You just had a huge sandwich an hour ago.”

“Let’s order in pizza.”

“Let’s go get the pizza and bring it back,” I suggest.

“I like having you here, in my jersey, in my house, where I don’t have to share you and you don’t have to share me and we can just be.”

“Be what?” I ask.

“Us.” He pulls me into his lap and kisses me senseless, plunging his fingers into my hair and moving those amazing lips over mine. Then, just as suddenly as he started, he pushes me back onto the couch and reaches for his phone. “I’m calling for pizza.”

* * *

“You are such a fucking cheater!” Will is glaring at me from his position on the floor, his back against the couch, xBox controller in his hands. God, he’s adorable when he’s irritated with me.

“I am not!”

“All you’re doing is pushing all the buttons at once and waving the controller all about,” he accuses me. He’s right. I have no idea how to play this shit, and making him crazy is hilarious.

“It’s called strategy, Mr. Football Star.” I bat my eyelashes at him and laugh as his scowl deepens.

“You’ve never played this, have you?”

“Madden Two Thousand Thirty-Four? No.”

“It’s Madden 2013, smart ass.” Now he’s laughing at me. God, he’s fun.

“I’m still kicking your Seattle ass. The guy with your name on the jersey looks nothing like you, by the way.” I pick up my soda and sip from the straw. We are surrounded by junk food. Pizza boxes, chip bags, cookie containers, you name it. It looks like a twelve-year-old’s birthday party exploded in here.

It’s fucking fun as hell.

“It’s a video game, babe, not a music video.”

I throw a chip at him, hitting him in the head, and he turns to glare at me. “Did you just hit me in the head with a freaking Dorito?”

“No.” I shake my head innocently and back up on the couch as he lays the controller on the coffee table and turns to me.

“Liar.”

“You deserved it, smart ass.”

“I know what you deserve.” He kneels in front of me, grabs my hands and pulls me toward him and then in one swift move, pulls his jersey up over my head. “I don’t think you can borrow this anymore.”

“Fine.” I lean back against the couch again and cross my arms over my naked chest, covering up my breasts. Will’s lips twitch but he holds his smile back and gives me a mock-glare and grips his black shorts at my hips and yanks them down my legs and throws them over his left shoulder.

I think they land in the salsa.

“Those are mine, too,” he murmurs, his eyes glassing over as he sweeps his gaze from my face down my body.

I move to cross my legs, but he holds them still, hands on my thighs, and pushes himself up between them so his pelvis rests against my own and his lips are inches from my face.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks softly.

I shrug, my smart mouth having suddenly left me, and just stare up into Will’s sea-blue eyes.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs and kisses my forehead, my nose, over to my dimple. “I love this dimple. Makes you look so innocent.” He smiles against my cheek and kisses it again. “Of course, I know differently.”

I chuckle and slide my hands up under his t-shirt, over the smooth muscles of his back. “Get naked.”

“I will.” He kisses his way over to my neck and runs his hand down my face to my breast to tease my nipple. I suck in a breath and squirm beneath him.

“Naked,” I repeat but he just chuckles and keeps up the torment, running those hands over my body, those lips down my throat to continue the torture of my nipples. Oh dear God, that feels good.

“Your skin is so damn soft.”  He’s on his knees again, kissing down my stomach to my navel where he pays special attention. He grips my hips in his hands, holding onto me, and bites and kisses my stomach, brushes his nose over it, and then kisses it some more.