Page 55 of Filthy Player
“And you like me.”
I grinned up at him. “More now than the first night we met.”
He threw his head back and laughed, rolling us so I was on top of him. My legs fell over his narrow hips, and I dropped closer, so we were chest to chest.
My body shivered. He drew reactions from me that couldn’t be helped.
“We need to get you cleaned up.”
“Uh-huh.” I played with his hair, my body arching into him. With every brush of my sex against him, I felt him harden. “Yeah. I need to wash up.”
“Then we’ll shower,” he said. He moved his knees as if to move us, but I pressed against his chest.
“Later,” I whispered, brushing my lips over his jaw, over to his mouth. “I want more of you first.”
“Good God woman, you’re going to break me.”
He’d probably break me, but I liked knowing he was just as affected by me if not more so. He also quit arguing. Our mouths fused together and we grinned against each other until my slickness rubbed against his tip.
“Condom,” he groaned and rolled me off him. “Hold on, crazy.”
I laughed against his throat before releasing him. I wasn’t crazy. Not in this sense. I was always a one and done kind of girl, and typically had no problems climaxing. But this was different. More animalistic need than chemistry or desire.
Something deep inside me urged a connection with Beaux and while I had him, I was taking everything from him I could.
Sheathed, he returned to me. His hands wrapped around my thighs and he spread me open.
Then he was there, at my entrance. Pushing in. I watched, forcing my eyes to keep from rolling back into my head at the absolutely, unfathomable pleasure his size filled me with.
“Beaux,” I whispered, tipping my head back. “God, you feel good.”
“Yeah,” he grunted, pulling out and pushing in. He teased me until he was fully inside me, settled to the root of him and it was glorious.
I pressed my fingers to the back of his neck and angled my head and he kissed me.
Then he moved. Dropping to his elbows, he shoved his hands into mine. I’d never imagined being restrained during sex, but I really liked that when Beaux was in me, he held my hands. It was confining, but intimate, as if he needed every single inch of us connected.
We clung together while we moved. Gone was the frenetic pace of earlier. This was two bodies molding together, fused in the closest, most intimate way possible. My fingers dug into the backs of his hands. I could only touch him where allowed, but it was all I needed.
This.
This moment.
This blissful, beautiful, moment where all I saw and felt was Beaux and all I heard were our sighs and grunts.
They filled the room like mystical music. A symphonic sound that reverberated in my ears and echoed down, deep within me.
“Beaux,” I cried out, arching into him. My mouth was at his shoulder, breath panting, heart feeling like I was soaring.
It was too much.
“Come, Paige.” He thrust deep inside of me, making me cry out. My ankles tightened on his back, slippery from his sweat-lined flesh. “Fucking come.”
His grunts grew frantic along with his pace and my lower back was burning with my impending release.
I clawed his hands and sank my teeth into his shoulder, crying out against the onslaught as everything exploded into a cacophony of sounds and ecstatic pleasure.
“Beaux—”
