Page 40 of Role Play (Off the Books #1)

His other hand slides up my back, tangling in my hair. When he speaks again, his mouth is right beside my ear, his voice a low growl.

World dark behind the blindfold, I shake my head. “I…just can’t. Can you please start and I’ll try to pile on?”

“Sure, baby. That’s fine. I have more I want to say anyway, like how I want to taste every inch of you, my sweet cookie girl. I want to run my tongue over your nipples and suck on them until they’re hard enough to cut glass. I want to slide my fingers inside you and feel how wet you are for me.”

If it wouldn’t kill the mood, I’d grab my phone and set up an audio recording. I’d trap a little sexy Forrest essence for writing inspiration later. But the further we go, the less I’m thinking about words on the page, the more I’m thinking about Forrest’s lips on my body.

I clear my throat, my mouth suddenly dry. I feel him smile against my skin.

“Are you getting a little impatient?” he encourages. “I want to dive in so bad, but I bet the teasing gets you soaked. That’s how we both want it, right? You, drenched. Me, swimming laps in your sweet pussy.”

I nod, beyond embarrassment now, lost in the sensation of his voice, his touch, the darkness behind the bandana heightening every feeling.

“Say it,” he commands. “Tell me how you feel.”

“ Wet. My thong is wet,” I whisper, the admission sending another current of desire through me. “Sorry, that’s not sexy… I um, I think that’s the best I can do in the way of dirty?—”

“Shh, you’re still in your head. Just feel, remember? I happen to think that was sexy. Such a good girl telling me your panties are wet,” he praises again. “Can I see? Can I take them off?” His fingers hook into the waistband of my paint-splattered yoga pants. “Lift your hips for me.”

I immediately obey, letting him peel my pants down my legs. The cool air hits my heated skin, making me shiver.

“God, look at you,” he breathes, and I can hear the genuine want in his voice. “These too?” His fingers tease the edge of my underwear, and I nod frantically.

“Yes.”

They join my pants somewhere on the floor, and now I’m half naked, blindfolded, trembling with anticipation.

“Lie back,” he instructs, and I do, the soft bedspread cool against my back. “Spread your legs for me.”

The vulnerability of the position delivers an alarm of self-consciousness into my head, but it’s quickly overwhelmed by guttural need as he settles between my thighs, his breath warm against my most intimate place.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against my skin. “Is this what you want? To come from my mouth?”

Before I can process, his tongue is on me, hot and insistent, drawing a startled cry from my throat.

The initial touch is almost too much—a jolt of pure sensation that makes my thighs tense and my back arch off the bed.

The blindfold heightens everything, leaving me helpless to do anything but feel.

“That’s it,” Forrest growls against me, his voice vibrating through my sensitive flesh. “Let me hear you.”

He starts with long, deliberate strokes, mapping me with his tongue as if committing every fold and texture to memory. My hips rise involuntarily, seeking more pressure, more friction, more of everything he’s giving me. His strong hands grip my thighs, holding me open, controlling my movements.

“So responsive,” he purrs appreciatively. “Your body tells me exactly what it wants.”

When his lips close around my clit and suck gently, a broken moan escapes me, my fingers clutching desperately at the bedspread.

The dual sensation of his tongue flicking against me while his lips create perfect suction is overwhelming.

My legs begin to tremble, toes curling as tension builds low in my belly.

“Forrest,” I gasp, one hand reaching down to tangle in his hair. The silky strands slip through my fingers as I hold him against me, not wanting him to stop, not wanting this feeling to end.

He hums in approval, the waves of vibration dizzying me. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he tells me, his breath hot against my slick flesh. “I could do this for hours.”

The thought of hours under his skilled mouth nearly sends me over the edge then and there.

My breathing is wrecked, my chest heaving with each gasp and moan.

I’m beyond shame now, beyond self-consciousness.

There’s only the climbing pressure, the exquisite tension, the relentless pursuit of release.

“Please,” I whimper, though I’m not even sure what I’m begging for.

Forrest seems to know. His tempo changes, becoming more focused, more deliberate. His tongue circles my clit in tight patterns that have me writhing beneath him, my head thrashing against the pillows.

“You’re so close,” he observes, his voice thick with desire. “I can feel it. Your pussy is pulsing against my tongue. Am I doing a good job, baby?”

“Yes,” I moan. “But faster,” I beg.

“There you go. Tell me how to make you come.”

Desire is a raw and visceral creature that takes over me, like a predator with eyes fixed on its prey. I don’t care about anything. Not a damn thing in the world matters right now except to find my release. “Make your tongue wetter, and flick the tip against my clit. I need your fingers too.”

“So. Fucking. Perfect. Your little pussy is my favorite playground. I’m going to have you singing in a minute, baby.”

The vulgar words, spoken in his deep, commanding voice, pummel me with another deluge of arousal. My thighs try to close against the intensity, but his broad shoulders keep me spread open, completely at his mercy.

When he slides a finger inside me, I cry out at the sudden fullness. He works it slowly at first, getting me used to the sensation, then adds a second finger, stretching me deliciously.

“So tight,” he groans, the rumble of his voice warm against my core. “You’re gripping my fingers like you never want to let go.”

He curls his fingers forward, finding that spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. Combined with the relentless attention of his tongue on my clit, it’s too much. The tension that’s been building snaps suddenly, violently, sending waves of pleasure radiating outward from my core.

“Forrest!” His name tears from my throat as I come hard against his mouth. My body arches like a bow, every muscle taut as the orgasm crashes through me. He doesn’t let up, his fingers still moving inside me, his tongue still working my clit as tremors rack my body.

Wave after wave of euphoria wash over me, each one slightly less intense than the last, until I’m pushing at his head, oversensitive and trembling. Even then, he gives me one final, gentle kiss before relenting, his fingers withdrawing slowly.

The bandana is gently untied, and I blink against the sudden light. Forrest is looking at me with a mix of satisfaction and what looks suspiciously like genuine affection.

“That,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in a gesture that should be gross but is somehow incredibly hot, “was really well done.”

I let out a breathless laugh, feeling gloriously boneless. “I didn’t do anything. I just lay here.”

He smirks. “Well, you lay there perfectly. You did exactly what I told you to and got out of your head. Good girl.”

I’m completely spent, yet the stirring begins again below my navel. “I may have a bit of a praise kink.”

“I guessed that,” he says with a sly smile. “It was either ‘good girl’ or ‘my dirty little slut.’”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t ever call me a slut if you want this to go any further.” I glance down at the bulge in his pants.

He grins, stretching out beside me on the bed. “Noted. But maybe we should pause here. Get cleaned up and finish painting?”

Reality crashes back in. Stop? Is this rejection? “Why? You’re not into it?”

He shakes his head, looking genuinely regretful. “The opposite. Wasn’t exactly planning for this when we set out to paint a kid’s room. I don’t have a condom on me. Do you?”

“No,” I say. “We could do other stuff, though. Do you want a blowjob? It’s only fair.”

“Fair?” Forrest asks, absentmindedly. “Sora, you did your part. Koda and I have a home, right? I’m here so you can explore. You don’t need to worry about what I want.”

Shame presses me into the mattress like dead weight. I know he didn’t mean it, but his statement makes me feel dirty and used. This wasn’t an organic moment of passion. He licked me clean to earn his keep. Fuck, I slipped. For a moment it felt…so real.

I hold my palm over my clit and spread my fingers, trying to cover as much of my nakedness as possible. “I should probably…”

“Let me,” he says, retrieving my underwear and pants from the floor. As I put them back on, he watches with undisguised appreciation.

“Are you all right?” he asks once I’m dressed again.

“Yeah,” I mumble. “Fine.”

His eyes drop to the floor, then flash back to mine. “Except you’re blushing. So, you’re lying.”

I place my hands on my hips, childish angst pouring over me. “Out of curiosity, how much would you charge a woman to go down on her, let’s say à la carte?”

His eyes harden, my question clearly pissing him off. “Why would you ask me that?”

I shrug. “Just curious what the going rate for head is.”

He sucks the air between his teeth and smacks his lips, matching my haughty temper. “A grand. Maybe less for a woman like you because you came really quick.” He lifts his brows. “I barely broke a sweat.”

“Good to know,” I snark before brushing past him toward the door.

He catches my wrist, yanking me back. “Something you want to talk about?”

“No. I think we’ve talked plenty.” I soften my demeanor slightly and nod toward the door. “Come on, let’s finish painting.”

I hold his stare and mentally talk some sense into myself. It’s a business arrangement, Sora. Don’t fall for a man who will never, ever belong to you. This is all just research.

“If you’re sure,” Forrest says softly, releasing my arm.

“I’m sure.”

Just business , I remind myself. If I keep saying it over and over…

Maybe eventually I’ll believe it.