Slow Play (The Rules 3)

“What?” He sounds irritated, like I interrupted him and that almost makes me smile. His lips are swollen and damp, his eyes hazy with lust and his hair in complete disarray.

It’s a fucking great look on him.

“My boots.” I run my booted foot over the back of his jean-clad calf. “Can you help me take them off?”

The grin he flashes me is nothing short of lecherous. “I’ll help you take everything off.” He pushes away from me, going to stand at the foot of the bed so he can unzip first one boot, then the other.

“Perv,” I tease.

“You like it,” he tosses back as he yanks off my left boot and lets it drop to the floor, doing the same with the right one. Then he’s tugging at my jeans, commanding me to undo them and I draw down the zipper with shaky fingers. Blowing out a shaky breath when he practically rips my jeans off my body, I feel exposed.

His gaze burns as it runs the length of my legs, settling on my panties. “Fucking hell,” he groans, shaking his head. “You are like my every wet dream come to life.”

I frown. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Baby, that is one of the highest compliments I could ever give a girl. Do you know how much I’ve fantasized about you looking exactly like this? Lying in the middle of my bed in just a pair of panties and nothing else? Jesus. It’s almost too much.”

“So all that talk of you fantasizing about me is true?” I thought maybe he was repeating lines from SATC and nothing else. Well, I was hopeful, but why would I star in Tristan Prescott’s wicked dreams?

“Oh, you reside in my deepest, darkest fantasies, Alexandria.” His voice is full of dirty, delicious promise. Anticipation skates in my veins and I know whatever’s going to happen next, I’m bound to enjoy it.

She is literally splayed out across my bed like she was made just for me. Ready for me. Only me. Wearing a pair of thin black panties and nothing else, those long, long legs slide against each other. She looks restless, maybe a little uneasy and I wonder if she’s nervous. I don’t want her feeling that way. It’s going to be good between us.

I know it.

Anticipation hums in my veins and I reach for her foot, lifting up her leg and smoothing my fingers along her calf, tickling behind her knee.

“Stop,” she says as she tries to jerk out of my grip but I only hold on tighter. A frustrated giggle leaves her when I tickle her again. “I’m ticklish.”

I decide to go easy on her but I’ll remember that for later.

Dropping her foot, I reach for her waist with both hands, pulling her to the edge of the mattress until her feet land on the floor. She props herself up on her elbows, gasping when I kneel in front of her. Her eyes are luminous as she watches me.

“What are you doing?” she asks shakily.

My hands still on her waist, I lean over and drop a kiss on the flat plane of her stomach. “Kissing you.” Hmm, and I could go on kissing her forever, I swear. Her skin is soft and smooth, smelling faintly of flowers and a hint of spice. I kiss her again, around her navel, below it. I can smell her, the scent of her arousal strong and I swear she’s hot for me. As in, heat is radiating from between her legs.

I want to explore every inch of that heat with my fingers and tongue.

She squeezes her thighs together as I kiss along the lacy top of her panties, her skin quivering beneath my lips, her knees knocking into my chest. I’m in the mood to tease. This will be a surefire form of torture for the both of us, but I can withstand it. I want to drive Alexandria out of her mind. I want to witness her falling apart.

And I want her to remember that I’m the one who makes her feel this way.

Curling my fingers around either side of her panties, I tug them down a little, just enough to expose her hipbones, that soft, secret spot just above her pubic hair. I press my mouth against her, breathing her in, closing my eyes as I leave slow, open-mouthed kisses on her skin. I consider pulling her panties completely off but decide against it for now.

“Spread your legs, angel,” I whisper as I pull back, place my hands on the inside of her thighs and slowly push them open. She doesn’t fight it, merely goes along with my wishes and I sit back on my haunches, taking in the view. The front of her panties are wet, her thighs are shaking and I kiss the inside of one thigh, then the other, drawing closer, closer…

Until I’m right where I want to be, pressing my mouth on that damp spot that’s been taunting me.

“Oh, God,” she moans so I do it again. And again. Her panties are so thin I can practically taste her. I tease the spot with my tongue, pressing hard, harder, soaking her underwear, the musky taste of her filling my mouth. Fuck, she tastes amazing, so amazing my cock twitches behind my fly, desperate to break free. I close my eyes for a second, trying to grasp onto my fading control.

But I can’t take it. My patience has left me now that I know what she tastes like. I want more.

Pushing her panties to the side, I run my fingers down her slit, sinking two of my fingers inside her, watching intently as I push them in, then pull them out. She’s hot. Wet. Coating my fingers so that they glisten. My heart races like fucking crazy as I pull my fingers out of her grasping body and trace her folds gently. Just a ghost of a touch on her pretty pink flesh, it’s hard for me to tear my gaze away from her pussy when I also want to watch her face as I play with her like this for the first time.

“Ali,” I whisper and she opens her eyes, her gaze meeting mine. I like my nickname for her. It’s sweet and intimate, just for me. “You’re so fucking wet.” Christ, she’s beyond wet. “Does this feel good?”

“S-so good,” she chokes out, her voice strangled. Her head falls back against the mattress with a thump and she slings her arm over her eyes. “Please don’t stop,” she mumbles.

Like I could.

Fueled on by her request, I skim her folds with just my fingertips, circling around the hooded flesh that covers her clit. I rub my thumb across it, press harder, pull back the tiny bit of skin so her clit protrudes and I lean in, flicking it with my tongue, teasing it, wrapping my lips around it. Her gasping breaths encourage me and I’m greedy, hungry for more. I draw as much of her as I can into my mouth,

She tastes like heaven.

Her hips lift and she thrusts her pussy more firmly against my face and I grab hold of her waist with one hand, holding her there. I slip my finger deep inside her, making her moan as I continue to suck and lick her clit, her entire pussy. Up and down, over and over, making sure no spot is left uncovered. She’s making these hitching, whimpering noises low in her throat and I add another finger, thrusting them deep, desperate to get her off, make her come apart.

Usually with a girl, it’s all about—me. Yes, I’m an asshole. I’ve never denied that. I don’t leave them unsatisfied. But I rarely go down on them. I’m the selfish prick who never turns down a blowjob but forget eating pussy. That’s only on special occasions and even then, it was more about getting a girl wet before I fucked her.

That I’m thinking of other girls is so unappealing right now that I shove the thoughts aside, refocusing on this trembling, beautiful girl before me who’s somehow found it in her heart to let me do this to her.

I’m a lucky bastard.