Page 50 of Dirty Player
The warning, the threat…the promise, was all I needed. I squeezed my eyes closed as he hit my throat at the same time I exploded beneath him. My knees hurt from the travertine-tiled floor, but it was all secondary to the pleasure that rolled through me, bright lights sparking behind my closed lids when he quickly pulled out of me.
I opened my eyes just in time to see his hard cock in front of me, and his cum splashed against my chest like he’d promised.
He braced himself with one hand on the wall next to us, his other wrapped around the length of him. He tugged harshly as he grunted his climax, shooting in long, thick spurts all over my wet and soapy breasts.
I waited until he was done and then my hands went to my chest. I washed it away while at the same time rubbing it into my skin, smiling when I realized what I was doing.
“Fucking hell,” he said, his voice harsh and dry. “I don’t think I’ve ever had someone suck my dick like you do.”
It was meant as a compliment as he reached down and helped me to my feet before quickly brushing his lips against mine.
I tried to take it that way. I still turned and put my back to the shower, not wanting him to know how it hurt me. The reminder of the women he used for sex, that I was here, at his crash pad and not his home, where we’d just fucked like rabbits for hours and slept very little.
His hands slid to the front of my stomach and he pulled me against him. His lips glided down the side of my throat as I cleaned myself, keeping my eyes closed.
“I feel like you took that the wrong way, or it came out the wrong way. I just meant that I liked it. Fucking loved it. Will be something I always remember.”
At least that was a bonus. When I was gone, when we were done, he’d remember my lips around his dick.
“I should get going,” I said, stepping out of the water and practically jumping out of his grasp.
“You’re hurt, and I’m not sure what I did to do that.”
I didn’t know either. Maybe because this simply wasn’t me. I was moving on from Patrick. I wasn’t willing to get lost in someone like that again, someone whose very presence made everyone want to put their own desires to the side and give them whatever they needed or wanted.
I could see it happening, from the way I responded to his commands to the way I’d thought about him all week.
Perhaps I wasn’t cut out for this after all. It wasn’t my heart I was worried about, it was my own passions, my own desires and dreams. I was suddenly terrified that spending time around Oliver would make me get all wrapped up in him and his desires and that mine would get pushed to the aside.
Again.
This was supposed to be my hour, my time to finally throw myself into everything I’d always wanted. Getting lost in Oliver Powell and his magic cock with his wicked words had the power to throw it all off-kilter if I let it.
“I’ll let you shower,” I mumbled and stepped from the steamy, enclosed space before he could stop me.
“You leave before I get out and I’ll tan your ass,” he said over the din of the water falling. “Not fucking kidding, Shannon.”
I wasn’t planning on it. I was afraid, but I wasn’t a coward. I didn’t enjoy running from something difficult, even though I’d done that too. Sure, I missed Beaux and wanted to be close to family, but at the epicenter of my decision to leave Des Moines was the fact it was too hard to face the memories of Patrick and our life together.
I didn’t want to do it again, though, but it also didn’t mean I had to hop back into bed with the man either. I didn’t have to throw everything I wanted away just because he commanded it.
I was dressed and in the kitchen, drinking coffee and mixing him a protein shake when he walked in dressed in workout clothes, running shoes already strapped to his feet.
“Not trying to take care of you,” I said before he could snarl at me for the shake. “Old habits die hard.”
“Thank you. That was nice.” He took a sip and pulled the cup away from his mouth. “Would you like to explain what happened earlier?”
I shook my head. Nope. I didn’t. I still wasn’t certain myself. “I have to get to work. I’m swamped and everything’s happening so fast.”
I meant the business and the street fair and my own personal fear of failure, but I allowed Oliver to take it as between us.
“I see.” He drained the last of his shake and reached for his keys. “Am I taking you back to Beaux’s?”
“Stamped is closer. You can take me there.”
***
“If you think you’re the only person shaken from this attraction between us, you’d be wrong.” He spoke so quietly when he pulled in front of Stamped that I almost didn’t hear him.
