Page 34 of Game Point (Game, Set, and Match #2)

Dylan

Slow It Down – Benson Boone

His answer was in his kiss. A soft, slow, deliberate tease of his bottom lip pulling against mine, his hand on my jaw, pulling me closer. I slid myself across the leather of the seat, using anything to support me, not caring about the gear stick, the handbrake. Only him.

A sudden movement caught my eye. The wipers urgently swept across the windshield. I pulled back, realizing I’d accidentally nudged the control.

‘Stupid car,’ I muttered under my breath, turning back to Oliver. His eyes lit up, a stupid, goofy smile curled onto his lips. ‘What?’

‘It’s nothing.’

I wiped at my face, growing self-conscious. ‘Do I have something on my face?’

Oliver shifted forward, his rough hand curling around the back of my neck, under my hair and gently pulling me forward to meet his mouth again.

The kiss was long and leisurely, like he was taking his time to savour it.

He pulled away a few inches, enough that he could still rest his forehead against mine.

‘I can’t believe I’m kissing you.’

‘Me,’ I teased. ‘Dylan the friend.’

He kissed me again, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he couldn’t go another second without the contact, or if he was trying to stop me from teasing him.

This time, however, he didn’t stop. His body leaning over, a hand wrapping under my thigh, urging me over.

We tried to keep kissing as I clambered over to his side, but when I hit my head on the roof we disconnected, a yelp of pain escaping me.

He laughed a little, one of his hands rising to the top of my head, as if to protect me from the roof. I carefully slid a leg over him, and before I knew it, I found Oliver Anderson underneath me, between my thighs. His eyes on me, his lips swollen and familiar.

How quickly everything had changed.

I paused, lazily taking in the sight of him. His beautiful smile, his tousled hair. One night. Would that really be enough to get everything I wanted to do with him out of my system?

‘You okay?’ He sat up straighter, the movement causing me to shift a little lower on his lap. Silently, I nodded my head, moving my face closer to his, my hands finding the rough six o’clock shadow along his jaw.

‘Yes,’ I said, my eyes flickering between his lips and his eyes, still not used to this proximity to him. ‘You?’

‘I’m desperate for more,’ he murmured, pushing up from under me and bringing his lips back to mine.

We grew lost in each other. His hands running south, gripping my ass, fingers pressing in as I ground down on him.

A groan escaped him, as a delighted smile broke out along my lips before I opened my mouth to him, tongues meeting, exploring.

We desperately clung to every inch of each other, making out like teenagers in the passenger seat, the entire car steaming up with the heat we generated, our moaned gasps as we teased each other, every bit of bare skin a new pleasure to explore.

His hand inched up my front, stopping at the line of my bralette, fingertips pushing only slightly, teasing me with the anticipation of his touch.

In return, I broke the kiss, leaving a trail from his mouth, down the length of his neck, finding a sensitive spot between his neck and shoulder, biting gently.

He immediately yelped, laughing as he pulled me away. ‘What was that for?’

‘Don’t be a tease, Anderson.’

‘What if that’s my plan?’ His hands drifted down from my shoulder, carefully down my arms. ‘Take my time with you,’ his hands landed on my hips, pulling me forward along the trace of his length, ‘tease you until you beg?’

‘Well then, I’m going to get a little impatient.’ I kissed the reddened skin of his shoulder, being soft in case it hurt. ‘And possibly bitey.’

His hand found my chin, guiding my lips to his, our mouths sliding together passionately, every single nerve of my body electrified with his touch.

It felt like this was my first time. Like my skin had never felt another against it.

The friction of his stubble, his soft hair in between my fingers, the curve of his lips against mine.

I memorized it all, the bitter reminder that there was a time limit on this.

Tomorrow, I’d wake up with only the memories, the small details I could recall. And I was determined to remember it all, every touch and graze. I’d go to the grave, never forgetting my night with Oliver Anderson.

My chest pressed into his body as my hips ground forward slowly as if to torture him. He groaned, the hum vibrating down through his chest. I did it again, feeling as he grew harder at the contact.

I swallowed involuntarily, trying not to get too carried away at the feel of it. Trying not to lose my mind. Oliver was right about one thing, we needed to take our time. Otherwise I’d rush this, the temptation to tear off his shirt already overwhelming.

Oliver shifted me on his lap, giving me more space to grind deeper, every single movement of my hips eliciting breathless groans from him. I moved, bumping my elbow against the window.

Oliver hissed through his teeth, as if he sensed how much it had hurt. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I hit it right on the funny bone.’ I wheezed, clutching my elbow as numbness and a tingling radiated down my forearm.

His hand gently took my wrist, lifting my arm up. Tilting his head, he leaned forward, gently kissing my elbow as if to heal the injury. I watched, the moment so tender I catalogued it away with the rest.

‘Maybe we should move inside,’ he suggested. It took all my strength not to open the door and sprint inside.

Instead, I shifted back, noting as I wiped some of the window clear of condensation, ‘It’s still raining.’

‘I’m sure we can survive a little weather.’

I untangled my limbs before I opened the door and ran towards the house, my fingers already searching for my keys.

Oliver followed, pressing his body against me as I attempted to get the key into the lock.

With his hands trailing across me, his lips softly tracing kisses along my shoulder, it was a distracted task.

Biting my lip, I twisted the key. We pushed inside, Oliver kicking the door closed behind him, before spinning us around. My back against the door, Oliver in between my legs, his lips on mine.

His hands slid behind my thighs. In one motion, my legs wrapped around his waist. He pushed me against the door, pressing into me and dragging his length against my centre, teasing me with his hardness.

I swore under my breath, taking a moment to enjoy the friction against the thin material of my shorts. Oliver left kisses across my skin, tongue trailing, teeth grazing. With every movement, my fingers dug harder at his damp shirt, trying to remove it.

Oliver moved, one hand on my ass, another on my back. He gave me no warning as he turned and walked us up the staircase, taking me even more by surprise when we didn’t even make it to the bedroom, instead settling on the landing.

‘Hold on to the column.’ His eyes had turned dark, stuck on mine as his fingers found the top edge of my shorts. ‘And lift your hips for me.’

For the first time, I followed a command without argument.

One hand wrapping around the support of the banister, my legs pushing up to allow the access he requested.

Oliver inched the material down my thighs, his hands flattening over the skin there, taking in as much of it as possible.

He pulled them off completely, throwing them over his shoulder with a satisfied grin.

Mentally, I thanked past-me for picking out a lacy pair of knickers, the scrap of delicate material barely enough to cover my ass. He pulled up, kissing me deeply, his hands coming back to my hips, in an attempt at holding me in place.

‘I want to feel you come against my tongue. Are you okay with that?’ he asked, his lips exploring down the neckline of my shirt.

I laughed breathlessly, ‘Fuck yes. Please.’ I pressed myself forward into him, growing desperate and inpatient. I’d been wound up tighter and tighter every day he was here. And no matter how often I tried, no middle of the night trip to the box in my wardrobe was ever enough to leave me satisfied.

Now, with him on his knees in front of me, I was helpless, prepared to beg for even the smallest touch.

‘Can I use my fingers?’ he asked, and while I appreciated the effort for consent, none of it was what I wanted.

‘Oliver.’ My hand found his jaw, dragging him closer to me.

His gaze bored into me, the hunger clear to see.

He wants me like I want him. I tilted my head towards him, somehow managing to keep my tone level.

‘You can do whatever you want. With whatever you want. But don’t make me wait any longer, please . ’

His reply was a bright smile, my reward: him lowering between my thighs. I hissed at the careful contact of his fingers, as he teased me again. I moaned, feeling him pull my underwear to one side.

He moved closer, his shoulders pushing my thighs wider, a careful exhale against my throbbing centre. I gripped the support tighter, my eyes shut as I tried to lift my hips to him, clawing for the barest contact.

‘Oliver.’ A low dull pain throbbed, desperate for relief.

‘Beg for me, beautiful.’ I could feel every word spoken against my bare skin, every exhale of his hot breath. ‘I love hearing you beg.’

I’d given this man entirely too much power over me. If I’d believed I could finish the job myself and feel completely satisfied, I would’ve stayed strong. Instead, I was a whimpering mess, wiggling my hips for the touch he was refusing me.

‘Please. Please. Touch me. Just –’ I didn’t get to finish my sentence, with the shock of Oliver’s tongue dragging against my pussy, my hand pulling at his hair, urging him closer.

He moaned against me, his mouth working, the pleasure unimaginable as my back arched from the landing, body fucking his mouth right back.