Page 31 of Biggest Player (Not Yours #2)

Margot

I wasn’t digging in the garbage, honest I wasn’t.

I was simply tossing a wrapper.

In my opinion, Dex should have been smarter with his subterfuge, but if there’s one thing I won’t accuse him of, it’s being a rocket scientist.

“Dex.” Babe. “What’s this?”

Because to me, it looks like a bag for an Italian restaurant. And a receipt. And cooking instructions.

That son of a bitch lied to me!

I pull out a white half sheet of paper that had been stapled to a paper bag, then hold it up toward the light.

“Mama Lucia’s Lasagna,” I read. The name of the restaurant is printed at the top, followed by step-by-step reheating instructions.

I feel a mix of amusement and annoyance bubbling up inside me.

“Dex!” I call out, wanting his ass in the kitchen so I can get answers. “You’ve got some explaining to do!”

Dex saunters into the kitchen, a smug smile on his face—the afterglow a man might display after getting thoroughly laid—until he sees the object in my hands.

His eyes widen, and he stops dead in his tracks. “Uh, I can explain.”

“Oh, can you?” I wave the paper instructions in the air, lips pursed. “I cannot believe you lied and told me this was homemade lasagna.”

He scratches the back of his head—if he’s trying to look bashful, the attempt fails. It comes off as immature.

“Okay, you caught me.” His hands go up. “It wasn’t homemade. But I swear, I made the pasta from scratch!”

I cross my arms. He so did not make that pasta from scratch—it’s part of the entire dish!

“Stop lying, dude!”

He gives me what I assume he thinks is another sexy grin. “Don’t call me dude.”

“Don’t change the subject.” I feel myself scowling, deepening the already dense wrinkles between my eyes. Ugh!

“You’re seriously pissed about this?” He sounds perplexed. “I just wanted to impress you.”

I sigh, tossing the bag back into the trash, where it belongs. “You didn’t have to lie to impress me, Dex. It’s the effort that counts.”

The lasagna could have seriously been a gross pile of slop, and I would have been thrilled he’d attempted it.

He takes a step closer, his expression earnest. “I know, I know. I just thought ...” Dex shakes his head. “I don’t know—I thought that you’d think I was more serious about dating you if I did something special and went through all the trouble.”

I soften a little— just a little, teensy bit —at the sincerity shining in his eyes.

“I already think you’re serious about us.

People are allowed to change their minds, and I know we started off on the wrong foot, but .

..” I step closer to him, walking into his open arms. “You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not.

I like you for you, even if you can’t cook Italian food. ”

He visibly relaxes. “Really? You don’t hate me?”

Hate would be a bit harsh, eh?

“No, I don’t hate you for lying about fake cooking. But next time you have something to tell me, maybe tell me the truth.”

He chuckles, looking down at the floor. “Deal. I promise, no more lies.”

My eyes roam to the counter across the kitchen where flour is generously dusted. “And I’m not helping you clean this mess up.”

“You’re not?”

I shake my head. “No.”

His hands go to my hips. “Are you sure?”

Dex picks me up, carrying me to the counter space where the rolling pin, flour, and measuring cups are strewn about. Lifts me so my ass is on the cold stone surface.

“I think you are going to help me clean this up.”

“You literally set me in your mess.” I try to glance backward. “There’s flour all over my ass cheeks.”

“I can help you with that.” Dex steps between my legs, pulling me so everything is at the edge of the countertop—all my best parts. Bare legs because I hadn’t gotten to the part of the program where I put all my clothes back on.

Just my top.

“You’re good enough to eat.”

Speaking of eating. “You haven’t fed me dessert yet.”

He leans into me, so tall his hard-on and pelvis are pressed into the apex of my thighs.

With hot breath against my ear he murmurs, “How about I give you a taste right now?”

A taste . . .

His hands slide down my sides, gripping my hips firmly before adjusting my position on the counter. The stone might be cold against my skin, but the heat between us more than makes up for it.

Damn, he’s sexy.

Dex’s lips find mine in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth, both of us suddenly hungry all over again. His big rough hands travel up my thighs, spreading them wider as he steps even closer still.

I can feel his hard length as it strains through the fabric of his pants.

“Stay right here,” he whispers with a wicked smile, then turns and goes to the fridge. He stands in front of it for several seconds while he searches, finally holding up a canister of whipped cream.

Victory.

Shaking the can vigorously, he’s back between my legs. He sprays a dollop onto my inner thigh. I gasp at the sudden chill. At the sudden delight. At the anticipation.

It makes my breath hitch watching him.

Before I can say a word, his mouth is back on me—on my skin—warm and ravenous, licking and sucking the sweet cream.

The sensation has me shivering, electricity shooting through my body, my hands instinctively clutching the edge of the counter for support. Transfixed, I watch as his tongue works its way up my stomach, pushing my shirt up, all the while leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“You are way too good at this.”

He pauses long enough to glance up at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You taste like I want to taste more of you.”

A sudden burst of boldness has me pulling my shirt up and over my head. I toss it to the kitchen floor, then unhook my bra. Arching my back as his mouth moves higher.

I sound as if I’ve just run a mile, my breathing ragged.

I feel needy and greedy.

Dex’s fingers slide over my flesh, slipping between my legs to find me already wet and ready.

His touch is gentle and demanding and driving me wild with eagerness.

I can barely stand it.

Craving closeness, I lean forward, wanting him to touch me all over. I want to kiss him—but I’d rather have him kissing me ... if you catch my drift .

Dex does not disappoint.

With a low growl, he drops to his knees; the whipped cream has melted into a sticky, sweet treat.

My pussy? That’s sticky and sweet, too, and he buries his face in it, tongue licking over my most sensitive spots, shock waves of pleasure coursing through me.

I grapple, hands tangling in his hair.

Sucking.

Licking . . .

Sucking some more.

“Dex,” I moan, unable to do anything but beg. And whisper. “Oh my God ... don’t stop ... oh shit ... yesss.”

He doesn’t stop.

Of course he doesn’t.

Instead, he sucks harder, his tongue and fingers working to bring me closer and closer.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod . . .

My body trembles, legs too. If I had to get up and walk right now, I’d fall. I’d be incapable.

I can feel the climax building, threatening to push me over the brink. I’m not ready, but at the same time I want it so bad.

So bad.

So so bad . . .

Just as I’m about to let go, he pulls back, leaving me teetering on the edge.

“Nope. Not yet,” he murmurs, voice husky with desire. “I want to be inside you when you come.”

Yes, please.

My mouth opens to say the words, but before I can get them out, he has me off the counter and on my feet. Pushes down his jeans. Watching him while my limbs shake, I’m then turned to face the cold stone surface as his hands resume roaming my body.

Dex grasps my hips.

Bends me forward.

I am at his mercy—or that’s how it feels.

It feels naughty and I love it.

His breath is hot against my neck; it tickles.

“So fucking sexy.”

He positions himself so that with one slow and deliberate motion he can enter me from behind. He fills me completely, and I gasp, the sensation overwhelming. Literally no one has ever fucked me from behind before , and I relish being bent over.

My fingers grip the counter for balance and support.

Dex’s pace is relentless , each thrust driving me closer to the edge.

Yes . . .

Yes . . .

Yes!

So close.

He pumps his hips. Thrusts.

Grunts.

Groans.

With one arm around my waist and the other near my shoulders, it’s a push, pull. Hard. Fast. Wet.

I can barely stand it.

I bite my bottom lip when he demands that I come for him, his voice thick with need.

“I’m so fucking close.” He groans into my neck. “Come for me.”

And because I am a good girl who listens to directions, I comply. With a shuddering cry, I let go, my climax crashing over me like a tidal wave. My body convulses. My legs can barely keep me standing.

As Dex holds me steady, his own release follows moments later.

He moans loudly before pulling out and coming on my ass, the wet, hot part of him branding me.

Our bodies tremble.

Then.

Dex presses a gentle kiss to my shoulder before pulling me away, reaching for a kitchen towel, and wetting it under the faucet.

“You are a total mess.” He laughs as he cleans my skin—back side and front, the towel moving across my ass.

“You started it,” I manage, eyes scanning for my clothes.

Dex chuckles, nuzzling my neck. “It was worth it.”