Page 30 of Biggest Player (Not Yours #2)

Dex

My goal was to impress Margot, and it worked.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I open the oven and see the bubbling, cheesy pan of lasagna that had been delivered personally, by the restaurant, a mere thirty minutes before Margot arrived.

It was a close call that had me sweating.

Phew, baby.

I watch her savoring each delicious bite, and I know my erratic heartbeat was worth it. Her eyes light up with every forkful, and the satisfied hums and moans escaping her lips are a swift kick to my nut sac.

My dick tingles watching her lick her fork, damned if it doesn’t.

“I actually can’t believe you made all this,” she groans, voice filled with genuine amazement. “You’re full of surprises.”

I grin, trying to mask the guilt gnawing at me because, technically, I cheated. “You know me, always aiming to please.”

She laughs, a soft, melodic sound that makes my heart skip a beat. “Well, consider me thoroughly impressed.”

We continue eating, conversation flowing easily.

She tells me about her day and her latest project at work, and I hang on every word. She even tells me about her ex calling while she was in the driveway, and the sarcastic tone of his voice when she told him she had a date. The lasagna may be a fucking lie, but the connection between us is real.

After dinner we move to the living room, wineglasses in hand.

The ambiance is cozy, the dim light casting a glow around us. I sit next to her on the couch, wanting to pull her onto my lap so she can wrap those smooth legs around my waist.

I want to make out with her like we’re in high school.

I want . . .

“This was perfect.” Margot leans into me slightly. “I love how quiet it is here.”

“Um. Me too.”

“Dex,” she whispers, her breath warm against my lips.

“Yeah?” My voice is barely audible.

“Show me more of your surprises,” she murmurs, a playful glint in her eye.

I smile, closing the distance between us.

Her lips move against mine, inviting, and I lose myself in the moment.

My hand travels to the small of her back, pulling her closer.

She responds by threading her fingers through my hair, a gentle tug that sends a shiver down my spine.

When we finally break apart to stare at each other, Margot’s eyes are sparkling with desire.

“That’s making me tingle.”

“I’ll fucking make you tingle,” I promise with a chuckle, stroking my thumb along her jawline until she tilts her chin, moving so my mouth touches her skin.

Margot’s breath hitches as my lips find a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. “You’re really good at this,” she says, her voice breathy. Gasps.

“Just wait,” I tease, pulling back to look into her eyes.

“Wait for what?” She pauses, and when I don’t respond, she shakes her head, frustrated. “Wait for what?!”

Clearly unable to stand it, Margot pushes me back onto the couch cushions and straddles my lap with a confidence that makes my heart rate skyrocket. Her hands roam over my chest, the heat from her palms searing through the fabric of my T-shirt.

I groan when she leans in, her lips against my ear, her tits brushing my chest.

“Tell me, Dex,” she coos, her breath sending shivers down my spine. “Besides dinner, do you have any more surprises for me?”

I swallow hard, my pulse quickening. “Why don’t you find out?”

Her laugh is sultry. “You better not be referring to the surprise in your pants.”

No doubt she can feel it straining against my jeans, hard and hot and ready. Always ready, damn him ...

Margot kisses me again, deeper this time, tongue teasing mine. My hands go to her hips, guiding her movements as she grinds against me, the friction making it hard to think straight. She’s dry fucking me, and I feel like a teenager.

I sit as still as I can, letting her be in charge.

She breaks the kiss and gazes down at me, lips swollen and red. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” My voice is husky. “I thought you liked a challenge.”

“I do,” she admits. “But I also like winning.”

“So do I.” And with that, I pick her up, flipping her so she’s on her back, pinning her beneath me on the couch. “Let’s see who comes out on top, then.”

Her laughter is cut off by my lips capturing hers again, our bodies pressing together in a deliciously intoxicating rhythm.

I grind my hips into hers.

She lifts her hips so they meet mine.

Fully clothed, we let our hands roam, exploring every inch of each other with a growing hunger. I can feel her responding, her nails digging into my shoulders as she arches into me, tugging at my shirt so she can touch my bare skin.

“Dex,” she moans, her voice a desperate plea. “Don’t stop.”

Don’t stop . . .

Don’t stop . . .

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”

Her wish is my command.

Her fingers tug at my shirt, and I help her pull it up and over my head. The cool air hitting my skin is a stark contrast to the heat in my kitchen.

Margot runs her hands over my chest, watching me with wonder, her touch igniting a fire that blazes through me.

“God, you’re perfect.” Her breath is another quiet murmur as her eyes roam my body appreciatively. “I’ve never touched anyone with an eight-pack.”

I don’t have an eight-pack but do not argue with her.

Tipping my head back, I give her a shaky laugh before leaning down to capture her lips, pouring all my pent-up desire for her into this kiss. All the frustration from lying to her, all the attraction I feel for someone I told myself I wasn’t going to date.

Yet here she is beneath me. Because I am a liar.

“You’re the one who’s perfect,” I murmur against her mouth, my hands finding the hem of her shirt.

I want to see her naked too.

With a quick tug, her shirt joins mine on the floor. I take a moment to admire her. The way her skin glows in the dim light. The curve of her breasts above the lace of her baby blue bra. Her smooth clavicle.

Margot’s breath is coming in short, ragged gasps.

The sight of her lying there in nothing but a bra and shorts is intoxicating.

Her soft palms travel from the middle of my chest down to my waistband, her touch sending sparks through my body when her nails scratch my skin.

“Let’s see what you’re keeping in here,” she teases, fingers pulling on the button of my fly.

I can barely nod my assent.

Brain dumb.

She undoes the button, deftly and somewhat confidently. No flinching, no hesitation.

The anticipation is electric, every nerve in my body on high alert.

As she tugs the zipper down, her teeth flirt with her bottom lip, biting. She’s excited too ...

My zipper whirs down further.

“Oh my God, I feel like a virgin,” I joke, voice strained.

“Which we know isn’t the case.” She smirks as she slides south, her touch sending a jolt through me.

I try to chuckle, but it comes out more like a groan. “You’re killing me, Margot.”

I groan again when she removes her hands from my ass, fingers gripping my waistband. With a quick, decisive motion, my jeans are down around my thighs.

Together we shuck them off so I’m left in nothing but my boxer briefs (bright blue if you’re wondering), Margot’s gaze traveling the length of me, taking in every detail.

“I was impressed before, but now ... I’m speechless.”

Her words are all the encouragement I need. My hands move to the waist of her shorts, and with a gentle tug, I add to the growing pile of clothes on my living room floor.

Margot in nothing but a pair of lacy panties, lacy bra, tits practically spilling over the cups.

I want to suck on her nipples.

Her skin.

All of her . . .

Slowly, I run my hands over her, feeling the warmth of her flesh. Her breath hitches as I explore, body responding to my touch, chest heaving.

Then.

Margot reaches for my boxers and, without preamble, removes them.

We’re both bare now, the heat between us so fucking unbearable .

I move her closer.

Skin against skin.

I capture her lips again, this time more urgently, my hands sliding beneath her and up her back, hunting for the clasp of her bra. With a flick of my deft fingers, it comes undone.

The baby blue lace falls down her shoulders. Panties melt off.

“Fuck, you’re sexy,” I whisper, hands trailing down her sides, feeling the soft curve of her waist, her hips. Her belly.

Her tits.

She moves her arms to the side so I can look my fill: boobs, pussy—the whole pretty picture ...

“Then do something about it,” she taunts.

“You little troublemaker.”

Even though she’s buckass naked, Margot rolls her eyes. “Stop procrastinating.”

I don’t need to be told twice.

My hands cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples in slow, teasing circles. She gasps—good girl—back arching slightly, pushing herself into my hands. Oh, the invitation ...

The sight of her responding to my touch, the sound of her pleasure, is intoxicating .

I am so unbelievably hard.

For a mom—can you believe that shit?!

Leaning in, I take one of her nipples into my mouth, sucking gently, then flicking it with my tongue. Blow on it, the cool air making it harden.

Her moan is soft but filled with desire, and it spurs me on—not that I need any more encouragement.

My other hand continues to caress and squeeze, reveling in the way her body moves against mine.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. I switch to the other breast, giving it the same attention.

I want more.

I need more.

“Oh my God, Dex,” she whispers, voice filled with pleading. “I want you.”

I need you.

The words send a jolt of arousal through me, and I kiss my way back up to her lips, capturing them in a searing kiss.

“I want you too,” I murmur against her mouth. “So fucking much.”

Our bodies press together. I can feel the slickness of her arousal against my thigh, and it takes everything in me to not lose control.

I want to take my time, to savor every moment—not dump my load after three minutes. I haven’t been inside her yet; how fucking embarrassing would that be?

I kiss my way down her torso, nipping and licking at her skin, drawing those glorious soft gasps and moans from her lips. When I reach her pussy I pause, staring up her body, my breath hot against her most sensitive spot.

“Yes, do it,” she begs, hips lifting slightly, seeking more.

“You little beggar,” I tease. “You want me to fuck you with my mouth?”

I love how she’s completely undone.

I lower my head, tongue tasting her.

The taste of her—the way she cries out my name—makes me want to make lapping her up my next career. I lick at her slowly, teasingly, building the tension.

Frustrate her beyond belief.

Her hands grip my hair, her hips rocking against my mouth as I increase the pressure, sucking gently on her clit. Her moans are louder now. Desperate. Unfulfilled.

I know she’s close.

“Oh my God, don’t stop,” she demands, bossy little thing.

I have no intention of stopping, but I have no intention of telling her that.

I want to drive her over the edge; I want to feel her come apart in my mouth.

My fingers slide inside, just right. Margot cries out, her body tensing, shuddering as she climaxes.

Fuck yesss . . .

I watch, mesmerized by the sight of her lost in pleasure, her body arching, fingers gripping the fabric of the couch—a couch I will never sell or get rid of.

And then, when she finally relaxes, I kiss my way back up to her, capturing her lips in a tender kiss.

“That was ...” Her legs quake beneath me. “Amazing.”

“Was it?” If there’s one thing I love, it’s a compliment.

“You know it was.”

“You stop rolling your eyes at me,” I reply, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Because we’re not done yet.”

Her smile is lazy, and she stretches. “Are you finally going to fuck me?”

Finally going to ... “You sassy brat.”

I move over her, positioning myself at her entrance, and she moves too, wrapping her legs around my waist, pulling me closer.

So wet.

So hot.

I slide into her slowly, savoring the feeling of being inside her, the way her body welcomes me.

Tight as fuck.

“Holy shit.” I can barely breathe.

Jesus Christ, she feels amazing.

So much so that I have to remind myself to pump my hips, to drive into her.

We move together until we’re in sync, each thrust, each moan, each kiss, each time she clenches so she feels tighter.

I am going to lose my mind.

“Faster,” she commands, nails digging into my shoulders.

It hurts so goddamn good ...