Page 125 of Let the Game Begin

The flash of desire in his golden eyes accompanied the movement of his hands as he placed them underneath my breasts, like he was testing their weight. I flinched at the sudden contact, but he didn’t stop, and I didn’t resist. He felt them with a kneading motion before bending his head down and flicking his tongue over my left nipple. I trembled.

“I like the way your skin smells,” he commented before capturing my nipple with his lips and sucking, drawing a shy but perfectly audible moan out of me. I touched his hair, digging my fingers in and tightening them. His scruff rubbed against my sternum and his mop of hair tickled the base of my throat.

“Who is Scarlett?” I asked abruptly, forcing him to honor my condition. Neil stopped suckling my left breast and moved to the right, still in a calculated, expert fashion. Once my nipple was in his mouth, he battered it with his tongue, causing alternating hot and cold sensations that practically made me vibrate.

He looked up at me, letting me see just how much he was enjoyingeverything he was doing, while making it clear that he knew I was enjoying it, too.

Oh, yes, I was enjoying it a lot. But only because he was one doing it to me.

“Answer me,” I murmured, but Neil just licked all around my areola in response. The slide of his saliva, his hot tongue, the slow, rhythmic movements had me clenching my lower lip between my teeth. I flexed my thighs to relieve some of the throbbing caused by my reawakened libido. My heart was pounding in my temples, and my head began to spin.

“My ex,” he said finally, and my eyes went wide because I thought for sure he’d never answer me. He pulled away from my breast and licked his lips as though he were sorry to no longer be tasting my skin.

“How long were you two together?” I pressed, regaining some control over my breath, which had previously gone fast and irregular. Neil ran a hand through his hair and picked the dice back up, not looking at me.

“We didn’t have a real relationship. It’s a long story, but about a year, I guess.” He closed his fist around his die and shook to reroll it. This was obviously a painful topic, but knowing that the infamous Scarlett was indeed an ex of his and not just another lover like Jennifer and the rest of them stirred up a prickly, tormented feeling in my stomach.

I touched my right breast with one hand. It was still glistening wet with his saliva and the nipple stiffened again when I thought about his lips playing over it. I picked up my die and tried with all my might to hide how uncomfortable I was being half-naked right beside him, though he wasn’t even looking at me.

“Area: penis, action: stroke,” he read with a slightly ironic tone that made me blanch. I straightened my spine and breathed in slowly. I had no idea how to touch a man that way; I had no idea where I should even start. It was a little absurd to be twenty-one years old and to have so little sexual experience with anyone—certainly not Jared—and I felt the burden of my inexperience every time I needed to do something for or with Neil.

“I’ll show you how.” He turned to me and lifted my chin with his index finger because I had been staring into the fireplace, looking for a pretext to escape or perhaps to just a place to hide my blazing face.

“I don’t know… I mean, I don’t think I’m…”

“Capable?” He said, his voice overlapping mine. “Trust me,” he whispered and made me stretch out on the couch. A moment later, he positioned himself alongside me, propped up on his elbow. He stared at my breasts as he took my hand and guided it to the zipper of his jeans.

My god! I needed to… I just needed to…

“Touch me,” he ordered under his breath, pressing his nose into the crook of my neck as I lay there inertly. I opened my hand and sucked in a breath when I felt him under my fingers, swollen and hard even through the fabric of his pants.

“O-okay,” I murmured in mortification, as I moved my hand from top to bottom. I followed the contours of his member, pressing against his jeans, and was amazed all over again at how long and thick it was.

“Good. Now, unzip me,” he said softly. I moved my hand to the button of his jeans and tried to free it but with no success.

I was incapable of performing even the simplest of actions: pulling down his fly.

“A true babe.” He gave me a sensual smile. “Let me help.” He undid the button and lowered his fly before pausing expectantly, ready for me to do the rest.

At the same time, he began to rub my breasts and kiss my neck until, little by little, my anxiety evaporated.

I pulled his jeans down over the curve of his butt and he lifted his hips to assist me. Then, I glanced down and spotted his erect penis beneath the white Calvin Klein boxers he wore. I moved my gaze to the V shape leading to his pelvic area and touched the lateral lines with my fingertip. The movement made him flinch.

Then, I traced the outline of his tattoo on his left flank, and he sighed.

“You’re really into my tattoos, huh?” he said, sounding pleased with himself, and I nodded. I loved the pikorua just as much as I loved the toki on his right bicep, currently covered by his fleece. They were marvelous embellishments on his marble statue of a body.

“God, so much,” I whispered against his lips, using my fingers to stroke the tip of his erection where it was peeking out of his underwear elastic.

“Pull them down,” he demanded. I swallowed and grabbed the waistband with both hands, scrupulously not looking down.

“Look at me. I like being looked at by you.” He smiled a predator’s smile at me, and I shifted my gaze to the hard-on that now curved over his navel. Veins along the sides of his member made it appear even more starkly masculine; his testicles were contracted. His glans dark and not yet fully emerged. I felt embarrassed, but despite that, I couldn’t stop staring at him.

“I’ll teach you how to make me feel good.” He grasped my hand in his and guided it to his bare flesh.

“Squeeze.” He helped me wrap my fingers around the base of him, though my fingertips and thumb could not connect.

“And move you hand like this.” He manipulated my hand in a slow but precise up and down rhythm. His skin was sleek and hot, sliding perfectly against my hand.