Page 18 of Trick Play (Playing the Field #4)

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

Zeke

Now

Micah isn’t trembling because he’s cold.

It’s shock, I think, or something similar.

I don’t know what to do, so I just wash him. I drag a soapy cloth over his skin, then rub the bubbles in with my hands. When I reach his tense shoulders, he sighs and relaxes into me. I take it as a sign to keep going and work at the kinks and knots along his neck, then his shoulders, down his spine, and across his lower back. It’s only when I reach the dimples above his ass that he gasps softly.

“Stop,” he whispers, and I immediately step back until the cold tile wall meets my spine. My hands are raised in surrender.

Micah turns to face me, the water rinsing all traces of soap from his tan skin. He used to be pale and his muscles less defined when we first met. I thought he was beautiful then. He’s still beautiful now.

The lean yet toned muscles of his arms flex naturally as he places his palms against my bare chest. “I meant to tell him to stop,” he says, soft and meek, “but I never got the word out.”

“It’s okay, bunny.” I cover his hands with mine. “You’re okay. You never have to do anything you don’t want. Not while I’m around.”

His fingers splay, the tip of his pinky nails grazing my nipples, and of course, my cock notices. “You weren’t jealous.”

“I’m not the jealous type.” Concerned, yes. Jealous? No. I have no right, and even if I did, it’s rather two-faced of me to not trust him. Not when I kiss strangers all day, every day, and he’d have to trust that none of them mean anything to me.

“Or is it because I’m not yours?” His voice is nothing more than a whisper.

Fuck. Why is he saying this shit to me? Doesn’t he know I want him to be mine, desperately? I want to be his. I wasn’t the one who wanted to break up in the first fucking place!

Deciding to play it safe, I repeat, “I’m not the jealous type. Not that I’m aware, at least. I’ve only been in one serious relationship, and I didn’t mind watching you dance with other people at Gemini.” Didn’t mind is an understatement, but I won’t tell him that.

I also didn’t mean to tell him that he was my only serious relationship.

His mouth pops open in surprise.

I don’t give him a chance to comment on my revelation. “Are you the jealous type?” I ask because I’ve wanted to know the answer since before we even began dating.

“I’m not.”

My breaths turn heavy, like I’ve just run a hundred yards across the field, and I swear my heart stutters in my chest.

That was . . . Holy shit, that was my whole thing while we were dating. I thought he’d be upset about me kissing strangers, but if he’s not the jealous type, does that mean he wouldn’t care? Damn it, why hadn’t I asked while we were together? That question was what had me distancing myself, was part of the reason a rift formed between us. If I had just asked then, would things be different?

No. Because there’s still something he’s hiding.

If only I knew what it was.

Micah drifts closer to me, tilting his head up as our height difference puts him even with my collarbone. “Zeke,” he murmurs.

I brush my thumb along his cheek to make sure all the tears from earlier are gone, then cup his face in my hand and whisper, “Bunny.”

I’m not sure who moves first, him or me, but in the next instant, we’re kissing. I don’t know what it means either. All I know is I’m kissing Micah, and it’s been too damn long since I last held him in my arms.

Hell, even five minutes is too long.

He feels perfect beneath my hands. Familiar. The silky strands of his hair between my fingers. The curve of his shoulder. The dip of his waist and the arch of his back as I pull him closer.

My tongue searches for his. When they meet, it’s nothing but sweet memories as they tangle seamlessly. I’ve kissed probably thousands of people, but his lips are the only ones I ever remember after. The only ones I dream about, long for, and pray to have again. And again. And again.

Grabbing his hips, I lift him until he can wrap his legs around me. I pin him to the shower wall as my mouth finds his neck. He opens up for me like the prettiest flower, tipping his head back so I can nip and suck up and down his throat and across his collarbones. He gasps when I reach a sensitive spot below his ear, arching into me. He’s hard, like me, and the silky, wet head of his cock rubs against my abs.

“I’ve missed you.” The words spill from my lips as I lift my head to seek his mouth again.

“We’ve been . . . rooming together,” he pants between kisses, “for days.”

“No.” Ripping my mouth from his, I pull back just enough to look into his eyes. “I’ve missed you . As a whole. The last few days, I’ve only had pieces of you.” I duck my face to his neck, hiding from my next words. “These last few months, I’ve only had pieces of you.”

“And when have you had all of me?”

I pull back to meet his eyes, somehow still rimmed by dark-painted lashes despite the water dripping from his hair and down his face. A drop lands on his bottom lip before hanging heavily from it, and I swipe it away with my thumb before sucking it into my mouth. Salt explodes on my tongue, making me realize he never stopped crying. The shower has only masked it. Pressing him harder into the wall, I cup his face with both hands and tell him honestly, “When you’ve forgotten to hide.”

Micah closes his eyes, and I swear more tears fall onto his cheeks. “Take me to bed, Zeke.”

“Yes, bunny.” I smile and peck his salty lips one more time before carrying him into the bedroom, tossing him on the bed without a care for the water dripping from us. I make to crawl onto the mattress as well, but his soft voice grinds me to a halt.

“Wait.”

I wait.

Micah climbs off on the other side, and for a moment, we just look at each other. Then he says, “Get on the bed. I’ll be right back.”

I do as instructed because I love a bossy bottom, and a bossy Micah is my absolute kryptonite. Sitting against the headboard, I spread my legs and pump my cock, groaning at the sensation of skin on skin and the knowledge that soon it will be Micah touching me. And this time feels different. It isn’t a booty call where he arrives already prepped and will leave when it’s over. It isn’t planned with the desire to scratch an itch.

This—this is chemistry drawing us together and need igniting our adrenaline.

This is us . Just Zeke and my bunny. Just Micah and the man in love with him.

When he returns from the lounge area of the cabin, he pauses in the doorway to the bedroom, mouth forming a silent “oh” as he watches me stroke. I give him a show, rubbing my fingertip against the slit to collect the precome leaking there. I carefully pull my finger away, and a thin string of it remains connected to the head. It lasts all the way to my lips, where I flick my tongue against it before sucking the digit into my mouth. With my free hand, I beckon Micah to me.

He lets out a wanton curse. “Slide down.”

I lie flat just as he reaches the bed and swings himself over me, his hips at my shoulders and his lips at my cock.

“Prep me quick,” he instructs. “Because after this, your hands are getting tied.”

I hesitate, spit-slick finger an inch from his proffered hole. We’ve never added things during sex like hand tying. Not that I’m concerned; it’s just new. “Feeling kinky?”

“I feel like I need control,” he confesses shakily, then swallows me whole.

Groaning with pleasure, I slide my finger inside him with one long, slow push. He wiggles his hips, trying to tease me already, and I fall for it. My tongue meets his rim beside my knuckle to help relax and slick him until I can add another finger, then a third. All the while, Micah sucks and bobs on my dick with a gusto that has me senseless with pleasure. “Oh, God. You feel so good, bunny. So perfect. Perfect for me. Yes. Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

He pops off with a wet noise, his hand taking over his ministrations on me. “It’s only been two weeks.”

“It’s been two seconds, and I already miss it.” Smirking, I thrust my fingers in deep. “Have you missed me?” When he pretends to think about it, I curl my fingers to hit his prostate, and he cries out, legs trembling.

“Yes!” He shouts in frustration, so loud Tahegin and Hendrix might hear it next door.

“Aw, bunny,” I coo, rubbing circles on those pleasure-inducing nerves. “Don’t you want to say it? Don’t you want to tell me how much you missed me?”

The wicked devil twists on his next upstroke of my cock, sending me into a frenzy. I bend my knees and pump into his fist while attacking his prostate even harder. It’s a battle of willpower, but eventually, I get what I want.

“Damn it, Zeke. Yes! I’ve missed this, too. Okay? Stop torturing me.”

“Mm, I thought I was the one who was going to be tied up and at your mercy,” I tease.

The reminder of his plans is enough to have him taking control again. Micah turns and straddles my chest, hard cock swinging in front of my face. I’ve always thought his dick matches him perfectly. It’s shorter and slimmer than mine but perfectly proportionate to his petite body. It’s also not as daunting as some of the other dicks I’ve encountered, and I keep promising myself that one day, I’ll try to go down on him.

Micah pulls me out of my thoughts by gathering my wrists and bundling them beneath a lavender-colored scarf—the color reminding me of his hair the first night we drunkenly explored each other—with a knot that’s . . . concerningly solid and snug. And double tied. Then, he raises my arms over my head to secure the extra slack to the headboard.

Wary, I test the bindings and balk when I realize how tight they are. My wrists are completely pinned to the headboard, and while the blood flow to my hands isn’t cut off, if I twist my wrists, the scarf digs into my skin. “Um . . . bunny?”

“Hm?” he hums, more interested in running his palms up and down my chest, nails dragging slightly.

“This is—” I tug on the binds, thinking of a word. “Different.”

Sitting back, he sighs softly. “I know it isn’t perfect, but I don’t plan to do this again. It’s just . . . after earlier, I want to be the one in charge.”

Understanding dawns. I relax against the restraints, a small smirk curving my lips when I tease, “You’re always in charge.” He’s always been a bossy bottom, and I’ve always let him. Sometimes I do take initiative to manhandle him a bit, but only because he wants me to.

Right now, I will do anything possible to make him comfortable after what happened on the pool deck.

“Okay, you got me,” I tell him, tugging at the scarf for emphasis. His gaze tracks the flex of my muscles at the action. “I’m at your mercy. What are you gonna do to me?”

“The correct question is,” he begins as he slides down my body, every inch of his cock dragging against my chest until his ass kisses my shaft. Quick and efficient, he uncaps the bottle of lube he must have grabbed earlier with the scarf, and his hand disappears behind him. “What am I going to do for me ?”

And then I can do nothing but watch, rapt, straining against my tied wrists, as he settles above the head of my cock and slowly sinks down. It’s too much and not enough all at the same time. Him—purple hair wild, head tipped back with pleasure, sharp nails digging into the flesh of my chest, his toned body that I know like the back of my hand on full display down to the tiny heart-shaped freckle below his dusky left nipple—on top of me with all the power, torturing me with his slow rhythm. Me, unable to touch him or move except for my legs, but when I bend my knees, intending to plant my feet and thrust, he reaches back, pinches the delicate hair of my thigh, and yanks.

“Ow—mmph.” My complaint shifts into a groan as he drops his hips suddenly, fully seating me inside his tight heat. “Shit, yeah. That’s—mmm—perfect. Keep going.”

Leaning forward, Micah ghosts his lips across mine, calmly inhaling my heavy, panting breaths like this isn’t driving him crazy the way it is me. His hot, sweat-damp chest meets mine, and I swear I can feel everything . I’m inside him, he’s stretched out on top of me, and our breaths are mingling until the expelled carbon makes my head spin.

Or maybe that’s just his natural effect on me.

“You aren’t in a place to make demands,” he purrs seductively against my lips, “and you aren’t giving .” His nails dig into my side to accentuate his point, the tiny pricks of pain reminiscent of the way he scolded me for trying to move my hips.

Not gonna lie, it’s hot. He’s always been one to leave sex marks with his nails, and I enjoy the chirps I get about it in the locker room. Like little trophies given to me by my feisty bunny.

He tips his lips to my ear, swiping his tongue daintily around the shell in a way that has a shiver running down my spine and forcing my back to arch. “Stay still,” he whispers, his breath cooling the path his tongue just took, “and let me take .”

Then, he sits up, plants his hands firmly on my chest, and rides me.

Though used to him sitting cowboy style on me, I find myself straining against my tied hands to touch him, unfamiliar with the inability to have my fill. To take his hips and meet him thrust for thrust. To tangle my fingers in his hair and mold his mouth to mine.

I groan, both in pleasure and frustration. His brutal pace and the friction on me is nearly too much, and the fact I can’t touch him, can’t indulge myself in him, drives me insane. I need more of this torture, but I also want it to end so badly. Want him to free my hands so I can truly feel him everywhere.

Instinctively, my knees bend again to find purchase for my feet, yearning to thrust into him, but he immediately reprimands me by pinching my nipple. Hard. I let out a shout that fades into a moan. “ Micah .”

His dripping cock slaps my abs each time he bottoms out, the wet, fleshy noise only adding to the sexy sounds falling from his lips and the squelch of lube as he draws up. Thighs quivering from exertion and pleasure, Micah digs his nails deep into my pecs, voice ragged and breathy as he moans, “ Zeke ,” sounding just as lost to pleasure as I am. He tilts his hips to better peg his prostate, panting, “I’m gonna—oh, fuck. Yes! I’m—” He breaks off with a scream pitched higher than his regular voice, the same sound he always makes just before he peaks. I love hearing it now just as much as I loved hearing it that very first time and every time after. When he comes, it’s hands-free—since his are occupied scratching up my chest and mine are tied up—and so powerful that some of it splatters my chin and lips.

I’d lick it off, but seeing him, feeling him come undone, squeezing my cock in his hot, tight channel, has ecstasy running through my veins, to my balls, and out my dick, pulses and pulses filling him with my release. My eyes slam shut so hard that I see white, and though my lips fall open, not even air escapes me. For a few long seconds, I have no control over my body or mind, simply a victim to bliss.

Coming to, I let out heaving, ragged breaths as Micah collapses onto me. We both let out puffs of breathless laughter. My cock softens and slips out of him, and he grimaces at the feel. I try to kiss the look away, but when he realizes his spunk still lingers on my lips, his nose wrinkles adorably.

My cute bunny.