A Harmless Little Game (Harmless #1)
By: Meli Raine
“That feels so good,” he growls, nipping at my earlobe, his hand gliding over my ass and squeezing. We grind into each other, my legs scissoring, his thick shaft a source of delicious friction against my V.
I giggle. I can’t help it. I’m reminded of making out my senior year of high school, stuck in a hidden, empty car on the Grove’s grounds, and how we dry humped until I had chafe marks on my thighs.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, dazed and out of it.
“Remember when we made out in the old service car?”
His deep rumble joins my higher laugh. Even his voice seems bigger. Richer. Smoother and more sophisticated than four years ago. He nudges his hips against mine. “Is this reminding you of that?”
“A little.”
“This time you won’t get red marks,” he promises.
“How do you know?”
“Because now I know we just need to take our pants off.” He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles, looking up at me under his eyelashes. “For safety.”
“For safety, huh?” I say skeptically.
We’re aroused. I’m throbbing. If Drew doesn’t touch me soon, I’m going to explode. I don’t care if this makes me seem desperate. I am desperate.
I take his hands and push his fingertips under my waistband.
He raises one eyebrow and says, “You sure?”
“Are you not?” I freeze. Maybe I’ve gone too far. Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe he doesn’t really --
My mouth is devoured by Drew.
“I want to be naked with you,” I say breathlessly, coming up for air between kisses, the inch-by-inch exploration of my body too tentative, too slow. If I’m going to go swimming, I need to just jump in. None of this toe-in-the-water business.
I want to be hot and sweaty, naked and clenching, overwhelmed and catapulted to a sexual frenzy that makes me forget who I am.
And Drew tastes like he’s right there with me.
“You call the shots.”
“That’s an order.”
I shimmy out of my pants, on my bedspread wearing just a shirt and panties. He does the same, except he pulls off his shirt, stretched out next to me in boxer briefs. It occurs to me that if there were an emergency, Drew would be in serious trouble. Daddy would go stratospheric if he found the head of my security team naked in my bed with me.
I grin.
All the more reason to keep going.
My breathing changes as his hands slip under my hoodie. I sit up and peel it off, tangling his hands along my chest for a moment. He makes a small sound of amusement, and then a deeper one.
Of hunger.
I’m wearing a thin black tank and in a rush of quick decision peel it off, too.
Cold air rushes to tweak my nipples, making them hard, the skin around them pebbling with gooseflesh.
Drew rises up and suddenly, I’m under him. All that’s between us is underwear.
It’s too much.
“You stop any time,” he whispers.
“You keep saying that.”
“I want to make sure you really get it, Lindsay.”
“Then give it to me, Drew.” I kiss him and we stop talking, the blissful sound of sighs and groans mixing with touch. This feels so good. My smooth legs rub against his muscled calves, light hair covering them, the different textures alluring. He tastes so fine, a world inside his scent and flavor, and soon we create something separate, his fingers stroking me, my body all rush and thrum, all his.
I come so quickly I can’t even warn him, my throat spasming, my eyes wide with surprise, the clench and release taking over my body as if it’s drawn to his touch, as if it’s been waiting for this opportunity. I bite his shoulder lightly, my fingers digging into his back, my belly pressing against his, hips riding his fingers.
I feel him smile against my cheek.
“I didn’t – I don’t know where that came from,” I gasp, overwhelmed and shocked, pleased and a little embarrassed.
“Let’s go find it, then, so we know where it is again,” he whispers, intense and casual at the same time, a paradox of a man watching every signal to know how to proceed.
I’m dizzy. The room spins. He’s an inch from me, so little space between us that we might as well be fused. My panties are soaked and his thumb strokes my hipbone. The air between us smells like me, like his mouth, like our breath.
Like passion.
I shiver.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“No need.” He moves me so he can lift the bedcover up, and we’re soon burrowing under it, warming. Our body heat joins and makes a cocoon.
I reach for him, knowing he must be aching. He’s hard as a rock, and he sucks in air between his back teeth as I fold my palm over the length of him, my fingers too short to reach the tip.
“Your turn,” I say, wiggling under the covers, knowing what I want to do.
“Lindsay, I -- ” But I’m too fast, my hands pulling his waistband down, mouth on his tip before he can say anything but groan my name.
Now this is true power.