Page 95 of Play the Last Card

I moan, trying to ride his hand to get more friction.

“Uh uh. We’re going to go slow, get you there. One orgasm at a time,” he scolds gently.

In. Out. His thumb brushes against my clit and I jolt.

“Should we count them out, baby?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I want to come so badly. I’m about to beg, about to cry out, about to plead with him to go faster and get me there. I curl further into him, pressing my face into his neck, letting his skin muffle my moan. He builds up his pace.

“I feel so proud to play when you’re watching. It means the world to me,” he confesses in my ear. “You mean the world to me.”

God, this man.

I want to reply. I want to tell him he means the world to me, too.

But then he presses a thumb to my clit, playing with me, and I forget how to use my words. Faster and faster. In. Out. My hands sink into his hair. My fingers curl around the strands and I tug.

He pulls back, staring at me so intensely for a beat I feel that tether again. Tugging me in, tightening the knots. Pulling us closer and closer into one another’s orbit.

When I feel like I might combust just from the way he looks into my soul, I kiss him.

He ups his pace again, fucking me hard with his fingers as I ride his hand. When I come, my moans are swallowed right down Scott’s throat.

Neither of us speak as he pulls my sweatshirt over my head and I tug his shirt off. I pull my ruined panties off and throw them over the couch. He tugs off the fluffy pink socks from my feet and they disappear too.

His gray sweatpants are the last to come off.

I move, kneeling beside him. He tilts his head as his hips lift and he drags his sweats down his thick thighs, capturing one of my nipples in his mouth. I gasp. I still feel the remnants of my orgasm sliding down my thigh. But his mouth is hot, and wet, and his teeth tug my nipple between them just enough I can feel myself dripping even more.

“That feels so good,” I whimper. I feel him smile against my skin before swapping to the other. It doesn’t last very long before he’s kicking away the pants and pulling me back over his lap.

His cock sits hard, throbbing, the tip glistening against my soft stomach.

He’s so big. The way it sits against me looks as if we’re measuring whether it will fit. It does but I still eye it like it’s gotten bigger and won’t this time.

“Ivy.” His soft tone draws my eyes up to meet his gaze.

Wordlessly, I lift on my knees. Taking his cock in my hand, I pump him a few times. I run a thumb across the tip and Scott hisses. I tease, just a little, before I position him at my entrance and sink down.

He fills me up so completely.

His arms circle my back again. He pulls me against his chest. When I start to move, slowly lifting up before sinking back down, his lips find mine and pull me into a passionate kiss.

This.

This feels different.

We’re not fucking tonight.

Not with the fire, and New Year’s Eve, and the way he handled my anxiety. Not with the way he was looking at me when I told him I watched his game. Not with the way he admitted how much I meant to him.

This is something more. More sensual, more meaningful.

I grind against him in an easy rhythm. We stare at each other, connected. Everything is slow and quiet. Just for a moment. He holds me closely, nibbling on my lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against my lips.