Page 84 of Playing Dirty

Cum spurts from my cock and coats his skin, mixing with his own release. His dick is still pulsing in my grip, and his body continues to quiver against mine as I slow my strokes. I don’t stop, though. Not until we’re both wrung dry and I can barely hold my weight up over him.

His gaze meets mine, and the green of his eyes is nearly non-existent from the endorphins overtaking his system when he whispers a rough, “Holy shit.”

Yeah, he can say that again.

I kiss him softly before collapsing to his side and rolling to my back so I don’t crush him with my weight. The two of us lie there, panting and breathless, while we stare up at the ceiling. I’m slick with sweat and my hand is still covered in cum and lube, but if there’s one thing I won’t slack on, it’s aftercare. Which is why I start to sit up, ready to find something to clean him up with, when he grabs my wrist to stop me from leaving.

My gaze locks with his, and he shakes his head like he’s in a daze.

“I’ve never…” He trails off and laughs a little, clearly unable to formulate the rest of his thoughts.

I smirk knowingly. “Yeah. Next time you wanna bitch about me edging you, remember the full-body orgasm I just gave you.”

He blinks a few times, brows crashing together like he wants to argue with me. But the puzzle pieces are all there, fitting perfectly in place from my perspective. And from the way the lightbulb flicks on in his brain, he’s just realized it too.

Of course, me being right only serves to irritate him, if the annoyedglare he aims at me is anything to go on.

“I can’t fucking stand you sometimes,” he grumbles.

All thoughts of cleaning up are gone now, the statement causing my dick to twitch back to life. My refractory period is non-existent when it comes to him in general, but especially when he’s looking at me the way he is right now, all the while spouting off bullshit and blatant lies.

“Good.” A hellish smirk pulls at my lips, and I grab his hip to drag him toward me. “Now, come here, baby. I’m not done with you.”

Twenty-Two

Madden

We go for two rounds before both of us are spent enough to call a stalemate, and it’s well after one in the morning by the time we collapse back onto the mattress. I’m still wired, despite my cock having been wrung dry, and though I know I should clean us both up and go home, I can’t bring myself to move. Not when Theo’s plastered to my side, our skin still slick with sweat while our orgasm highs slowly fade.

“You weren’t really mad about me cancelling, were you?”

He shifts onto his side to look at me after asking the question, and my brows press together in a frown.

“No, not at all. I understand why you did.” I pause, my lips quivering into a smile. “Not that we both didn’t enjoy me punishing you for it.”

Lots of feelings rose to the surface when I got his text asking for a raincheck, but none of them were anger. A little sad and disappointed, yeah. Panic also entered the equation when I realized why,but that actually led to something more like jealousy.

And after catching him the other night, I found myself wishing I could’ve been there as his teammate, not his rival—an enemy playing defense. It took me by complete surprise, feeling that kind of longing when I watched him disappear down the darkened hallway.

His gaze casts downward to where his fingers absently skim over my skin, tracing the ink on my shoulder and bicep the way he’s grown accustomed to. A habit he’s picked up when he’s deep in thought, which is likely the case right now. But when his touch falls away, I notice a little line forming between his brows that wasn’t there a minute ago.

“What’s up?”

My fingers slip beneath his chin and tilt it back up, forcing his gaze to mine again. There’s a beat of hesitation while his teeth scrape over his lip, and I gently use the pad of my thumb to pull it free.

“Do you wanna just…stay?”

It’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before; I realize that. But there’s something inherently different about this, and the look in his eyes—the vulnerability I see shining back at me—tells me he knows it too.

A python coils itself around my lungs, constricting until it’s impossible to breathe while looking at him, seeing the doubt and insecurity he’s trying to repress.

“If I promise to be gone before six, do I get to use the front door?” I find myself asking.

His lips twitch, and he shakes his head. “It’s the window for you either way, I’m afraid.”

I had a feeling, though I can’t say I’m not the slightest bit disappointed.Just not enough to make a difference in my answer.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”