Playing to Win

“Yeah, you’re a juicy little marshmallow, all right,” he said, then put his mouth on her sex.

“Cole.” His name fell from her lips in a moan. Her legs fell open and she gave him whatever he wanted, because when the warm wetness of his tongue was in command, she was his slave.

He slipped his hands under her and took his time pleasuring her, pressing his tongue against her clit, covering her with his lips, only to take her right to the brink and then back away to press kisses to her thigh. She hovered on the edge several times and he knew it, brought her there, and right when she thought she would come, he’d take the prize away, building her anticipation to a screaming level.

She dug her heels into the mattress, lifted her butt and all but shoved her * in his face, demanding he give her what she needed. He gently pressed her hips down, held her there, and put his mouth on her clit, giving her the orgasm she so desperately craved.

It was an epic climax, a tidal wave of heat and sensation that tore a scream from her throat. She was still riding the wave of it when he put on a condom and slid inside her, taking her mouth in a hot kiss that made her * clench around his cock.

He groaned against her lips and thrust deep. She wrapped her legs around him, the spirals of orgasm still with her as he rocked against her.

He lifted, braced his hands on either side of her to look down at her, his face drawn with intensity as he moved inside her. She reached up for him and he dropped down, then rolled to his side, drawing her leg over his hip.

“I want you close to me, like this,” he said as he pushed deep, rolling his hips to rub against her clit. He swept her hair behind her ear and kissed her neck while he continued to move inside her.

She sighed at the magic of his mouth, the delicious things he did to her as he made love to her. Everything about him turned her upside down. Being with Cole brought out emotions she’d tried so hard to bury, feelings she’d never wanted to experience.

He kissed her jaw, brushed his lips against hers, then met her gaze again as he gently thrust in and out, taking her ever closer to another orgasm, this time doing it slow and deliberate, brushing his body over her clit, tasting every inch of available skin he could, and running his hands over her as if this were the first time he’d ever touched her. He was so tender in the way he moved over her, pushing her back against the mattress so he could thrust deeper inside her. It brought tears to her eyes and she had no idea why. The way he looked at her tightened her chest and made her want to hold on to him and never let go.

The feelings inside her wanted to erupt, made her want to say things to him she shouldn’t say. It was emotion welling, coupled with the intense feelings of their lovemaking. She held the words back, but not the sensations as he drew the orgasm out and she burst, holding tight to him as she catapulted over the edge, this time with him. He groaned and gathered her close, powering hard into her with repeated thrusts, which only heightened her pleasure.

Spent, perspiring, she held on to him and fought back the ridiculous tears that sprang to her eyes. She had no idea what was wrong with her.

Residual emotion from last night, no doubt. What else could it be?

Cole stroked her hair, kissed her neck, and lifted his head.

“I’m starving. How about you?”

She managed a bright smile. “Totally.”

He climbed off the bed, pulling her with him. “How about a quick shower, then I’ll take you to breakfast.”

Part of her wanted to beg off so she could be alone with her thoughts and emotions, but she knew he wouldn’t let her hide anymore. “That sounds like a great idea.”

COLE KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING ON SAVANNAH’S mind. She’d been quiet during their morning lovemaking, and at breakfast.

Maybe she was still thinking about last night. Breaking through her stone walls had been monumental, and not something she’d wanted to do. So she likely had some regret. He of all people understood that. Telling people about yourself—especially the unpleasant parts—wasn’t a fun thing. Personally, he hated it, yet he’d forced her to do it. What did that say about him that he’d done it to someone he claimed to care about?

But maybe it had helped her?

He dragged his fingers through his wet hair, then grabbed a brush, throwing off thoughts of Savannah. She was a grown woman capable of making decisions for herself. She was confident and capable and smart, and he was the last person who should be able to influence her. If she hadn’t wanted to talk about her crapload of unpleasant memories from the past, she wouldn’t have opened up to him about it.

Jaci Burton's books