Page 77 of Let the Game Begin (Kiss Me Like You Love Me #1)

“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.

“I like it best right here.” He glided my hand to bottom of his glans and encouraged me to move my fingers over that sensitive area.

Despite all of this, Neil was breathing in a slow and controlled fashion, so I had no idea whether he liked what I was doing. I decided not to worry about that and simply mimic his movements, delighting in the incredible sensation of trying to stroke him off.

I really liked touching him.

“Never make the mistake of forgetting about these.” He guided my hand lower, specifically to his swollen testicles and I gasped. “Focus on this area.” He used my index finger and made me rub the crease that ran down the center, sliding up and back down slowly.

Neil breathed in deep and then exhaled, bathing my face in his hot breath. Then, he slipped his hand away from mine and urged me to keep going by myself

“Every man has his own preferences. You’re learning what I like and how I like it,” he informed me.

“The way to a man’s heart is through his cock.

You want to get at my soul? Touch me the way I like,” he concluded with a brash grin that made me blush.

I supposed that this constituted a romantic statement for him.

Either way, I concentrated on trying to move my hand the way he’d taught me as we lay facing each other.

My breasts were pressed against his chest and our bodies stuck fast to each other.

Neil began to touch me, fondling my breast, rubbing a thumb over my nipple.

I moaned timidly, not sure if he was trying to arouse me or himself.

He smiled and clasped his hand over mine again, pushing me to speed up my strokes.

“I’ll never come like this. You need to work harder, Tinkerbell.” He moved his hand back to my face and stroked my cheek this time before leaning in to kiss me.

He didn’t ask for my permission; he demanded contact between our lips as he bucked his hips against my fist.

Despite that, Neil didn’t pant; he didn’t moan.

He was completely silent. It made it difficult to know whether he was really engaged with what was happening, and more importantly, how much he was enjoying it.

I applied myself—truly applied myself—even if performing this kind of foreplay on Neil wasn’t easy, considering how long it took him to reach orgasm and how unused I was to doing this kind of thing for a man.

Occasionally, I would pause and rub him with my open hand just to get a break.

I hoped, in those moments, to see him more fully engaged.

I stretched my hand down to his testicles and fondled them.

They felt slippery under my hand but also tightly contracted.

I glided my hand up his erection again, hard as a steel blade, then I alternated those movements several more times.

Neil, however, seemed to remain unmoved, and for a moment, I thought I wasn’t doing it right.

Plus, my wrist had begun to hurt as well as the muscles in my arm.

I quit kissing his mouth and refocused my attentions on his neck, licking and nibbling it.

At the same time, my hand moved back to his testicles, tugging them absently downward.

“Yes. Good job,” he murmured, closing his eyes, and for the first time, I heard his hoarse, aroused voice. Apparently this movement was good for him?

So I repeated it, and Neil pushed his pelvis against my hand, wordlessly commending my initiative.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “Faster, now,” he suggested, letting his head fall back against the couch and squeezing his eyes shut.

I gripped his erection firmly and gave it fast, rhythmic strokes right against his favorite spot.

I had now memorized the things that gave him pleasure, and the rush of power that gave me was incredible.

I slid my thumb over the long slit at the head of his glans. I collected a pearlescent bead of liquid from the tip and thrilled at the idea of him getting wet like that.

“Precum. It means I’m almost there, Babygirl.

” The rumble of his baritone made me flush.

The idea of him seemingly being able to read my mind and confirm my ideas was currently very appealing to me.

Neil parted his lips and bit the bottom one.

His body went rigid and his testicles seemed to harden and it looked to me like he was being entirely undone by pleasure.

It was a marvelous spectacle, and I was the sole spectator.

It didn’t matter how many there had been before me or how many there might be after; in that moment, Neil was experiencing this pleasure exclusively thanks to me .

He was still contained, he didn’t make a sound, but the increase in his breathing told me he was likely close to orgasm.

“You’re beautiful when you’re aroused,” I blurted out and his eyes snapped open, focusing on my hand. His golden gaze lit up with desire, even brighter than usual.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning his attention, and I nodded before approaching his lips with my own.

“Yeah,” I confirmed and kissed him. He slipped his hand into my hair and welcomed my tongue as it passionately pursued his own until I was breathless.

On instinct, I bit down on his full lips for no reason but that they were fantastic. They felt hot and swollen between my teeth. It was one of those moments that could never be measured with a clock but only in the beats of our hearts as our mouths and limbs were intertwined.

Neil broke the kiss, exhaling on my lips and resting his forehead against mine.

Then he swiftly yanked his fleece over his torso so as not to get it dirty just as he exploded in hot spurts against my hand and his own lower abdomen.

He tightened his abs as the spasms hit him, squeezing his eyes shut.

Then, that muscled chest heaved breathlessly while his forehead broke out into a slight sweat. His cheeks and neck had reddened, and his mouth was swollen and moist.

“That was… I mean… It was—” He didn’t let me finish. Instead, he opened his eyes and kissed me again.

His kiss was crude, all domination and control. His kiss left no room to breathe and he moved his tongue in my mouth so fast and so deeply that it was impossible for me to match him.

“You did good, but you have no idea how much I want your lips wrapped around me,” he murmured, and a nanosecond later, I found myself straddling him. I didn’t care that his cum would get on my jeans. I didn’t care about anything other than the need to feel him more fully.

His hands on my hips coaxed me to rock my pelvis against him while our lips continued to communicate in a new language, all their own.

Kissing him was like finally quenching my thirst in a vast, burning desert, and I wanted to suck every last drop him from.

His bare erection chafing between my thighs encouraged me to rock more violently.

Suddenly, I pulled away from his lips and lifted myself up, putting my hands on his pectoral muscles.

His fingers glided over the fabric of my sweater, and I wanted to touch every part of him, but then something shifted in his gaze.

His golden eyes narrowed, and Neil began to look at me as though he no longer knew who I was.

His fingers clamped down on my hips until I felt a wave of pain sweep through my body.

I rocked on him again, but almost immediately, I had to stop because Neil was resisting me.

I held still, astride his hips, and Neil touched my sides softly, moving up along my rib cage to my breasts.

Then, he squeezed them so hard it made me whine and flinch in pain.

“You’re hurting me,” I told him, confused.

The game was over, the lust was ebbing and the pleasure had evaporated.

His eyes had been emptied of all human emotion so completely; in that moment, Neil scared me.

He let his hands fall down to our thighs.

His gaze wandered to the junction of our bodies, and he frowned.

He began to breathe irregularly, like he was struggling for air.

“Neil,” I said, taking his face in my hands. He rubbed his throat and then his chest, opening his lips in a desperate attempt at speech.

He looked like he was suffocating.

“Neil!” I spoke louder as I raised myself off him. His eyes were pinned to the ceiling and his eyelids didn’t move—it was like he’d taken a strong dose of some paralytic toxin.

“Neil! You’re scaring me!” I shook him but he still didn’t move.

“Neil, please! I’m going to call for help!

” I scrambled off the couch and searched for one of our phones, but before I could find one, he clamped down on my wrist and shoved me face-first against the wall.

He was strong; it didn’t take much for him to throw my body around.

He pinned my hands behind my back and pressed against me, crushing me.

“You’re done hurting me,” he whispered menacingly in my ear.

I had no idea what he was talking about. I began shaking and burst into the tears from the confused feelings that lanced through my chest like a lightning storm.

“Get out of here. Get the hell out of here, Selene.” His tone of voice changed suddenly again. This time he sounded like he was pleading with me. He released me abruptly, and I turned around, covering my bare breasts with my forearm.

I looked at him fearfully, and Neil put his head in his hands, confused and disoriented.

“I said get out of here! Now!” he shouted, grabbing a nearby vase and hurling it at the wall. I gasped, snatching my sweater off the couch and hurriedly pulling it on, not even bothering to look for my bra.

There was no time. I needed to get out of there. As fast as I could.

Suddenly, Neil began smashing everything within his reach. While he vented his rage, I gathered up my coat and bag, and with both my hands and legs still shaking, I somehow managed to get to the door.

I turned back once to look at him and the room he was systematically destroying.

The vase, the painting, the television, the chairs…

Everything was reduced to broken pieces.

My eyes stretched wide, and with my heart in my mouth and fear slithering snakelike through my body, I threw open the door and ran panting into the yard.

Something had summoned the secret beast inside him.

I had watched the metamorphosis in his eyes.

His golden gaze had been absorbed by his dilated pupils and a shadowy veil had passed over his face, a dark, ominous expression had replaced the look of desire, and I’d known right then that Neil was no longer with me.

I knew then that there was a monster living within him.

And I…

I had seen it.