Page 152 of The Play Maker

“What?” I ask softly.

She swallows. “I was thinking…” she starts. “If you wanted… maybe I could learn something new.”

My pulse jumps. “Something new?” I ask.

Maisie’s gaze drops lower. Slowly. Like she’s working up the nerve to follow through with whatever thought just landed in her brain. Her fingers trail lightly over my chest, but I feel it like she’s dragging fire across my skin.

“Like… maybe you could teach me?” she murmurs.

Then her palm drifts downward, smoothing over the line of muscle just above my waistband.

And I?—

Yeah. I nearly fucking die.

Fuck me.

My entire body locks up. I can feel the heat rush through me.

Don’t blow your load. Don’t blow your load. Do not fucking blow your load from having her hand on your fucking chest.

My cock twitches, straining against my boxers, and I have to take a full breath before I answer because she looks so nervous and I don’t want to scare her.

“You sure?” I ask, keeping my voice as even as I can manage.

She nods immediately, sitting up a little straighter. “I’ve never done it before, but I want to learn—with you.”

I stare at her. Squint slightly. “Are you still drunk?”

Maisie blinks. “No. Just… horny.”

I groan and drag a hand down my face. “Jesus Christ. You’re gonna kill me.”

She laughs, keeping her hand on my stomach. Still exploring. Still driving me absolutely insane.

I peek out from under my arm. “You sure you want to? There’s no pressure. We don’t have to?—”

“I want to,” she says softly. Her eyes meet mine. “You make me feel safe.”

And just like that, my heart flips over.

That one sentence hits me harder than anything else. Because this girl—this stubborn, beautiful, brilliant girl—trustsme.

I reach for her hand and lace our fingers together, lifting it to my mouth to press a kiss to the back of it.

“You’re such a good tutor, baby,” I murmur. “But now it’s your turn to be the student.” I glance at her, heat simmering low in my stomach. “You gonna let me teach you how to suck my cock?”

She nods, her breath catching as her cheeks turn the most delicious shade of pink.

I lean in and kiss her again, my tongue brushing hers just enough to tease, to taste her. Then I guide her hand down between us, curling her fingers around me through the thin cotton of my boxers.

Her eyes go wide. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” I say, barely holding back a groan. “That’s what you do to me.”

She shifts closer, adjusting her grip. Testing the weight of me in her hand like she’s trying to figure me out.

I shift, just slightly, and let out a breath through my nose, trying to keep myself from combusting. My boxers are clinging to me now, tight and damp with how hard I am, and every time her hand moves, it’s a new level of torture.