Wicked Player (A Rough Riders Novel Book 3)

by Stacey Lynn

  I said nothing, allowing her to continue her exploration. Her hands went to my belt buckle and back down the fronts of my thighs. She brushed my quickly hardening cock like she was the one in control. And hell if it wasn’t hot, watching her grin, lips parted with such fascination as her hands moved higher to my stomach.

  With each passing moment, her cheeks flushed darker, her chest rose and fell with quickened breaths until she was practically panting.

  I’d wager my last championship ring that she was as wet as I was hard.

  She returned to my waist and finally undid my buckle.

  Before I could issue another command, she asked, “May I stand?”

  She’d already scooted as far forward as she could without falling off the edge of the bed.

  “You may.”

  I didn’t step back. There was little room for her to stand up straight and as she did, I took in the slight sway of her petite breasts. Trim muscles peaked across her abdomen and showed in her thighs.

  Her hair swayed and swished with her movements. Long, glistening blonde tresses that would shine once wrapped around my tan fist.

  Once she was standing, her hands were almost plastered to my chest we were so close. Her head tilted back as if she finally understood how tall I really was. Almost a full foot taller. Her head barely came up to my shoulders and she peered up at me.

  Fucking blindfold. For the first time, I wanted to see a woman’s eyes. I imagined hers were blue, perhaps a pale shade of gold that matched her hair. Either way, I knew her pupils would be dilated, proving her excitement.

  I dropped my hands and fisted them at my sides, muscles bunched at my biceps as she pressed her hands there. It took all my strength not to throw her down on the bed and rip off her blindfold.

  “Remove the buttons on my shirt,” I demanded, my voice rough and husky. My self-control was hanging on by a thread.

  Still, she interested me. Called to me. Her fingers were nimble and quick, quivering, not from fear, but anticipation. Nothing she’d shown me so far gave any indication she was nervous to be having sex with a complete, faceless stranger.

  Should that bother me? Probably.

  Did I give a shit? Fuck no. I was harder than I’d been in months.

  She undid each button methodically, even sliding her hands down my arms to remove the ones at my wrists. And once it was draped open, pulled from my belt, my dick pressing against the zipper, demanding freedom, I grabbed her hand.

  “Oh,” she gasped. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No.” I pressed her hand to my crotch. She’d avoided it on purpose and it was time to remind her who was really in charge. “But you’ve neglected something important.” Her hand curled around my hard length and her breathing went erratic. “Undo the rest of my pants and free me.”

  Three

  Elizabeth

  Touch him? John—and I doubted that was his real name if he really wanted anonymity like Tristan said—wanted me to touch him? Already I could tell how large he was. Through his trousers, which I imagined black, I could barely wrap my hand around the hardness there.

  I’d been blindfolded by strangers before, but this was different. He was different There was something about him. His voice. The way he spoke with control. The baritone richness of his voice was a beautiful melody to my ears.

  It could have been because the room was black, his voice dark and my vision blocked. But I imagined him in my head and so far, his body was even larger than anything I could comprehend.

  He’d have black hair as dark as coal. Brown eyes as rich as my favorite dark chocolate bar. His lips would be full and thick, like the rest of him. Everywhere my hands had roamed, he’d felt like warm marble, his body the kind you’d see sculpted to perfection in a museum, or plastered on the cover of romance novels.

  This man was no Fabio though. He’d be a warrior. A fighter of some sort.

  Amazing how a lack of senses increased so much more.

  Even his hand wrapped around my wrist, using both of our hands to rub the length of him was strong and hot. Searing my flesh with an indescribable need to do every single little thing he commanded.

  “Don’t get nervous now, little one,” he said.

  He’d not only moved closer, but he’d bent his head. His warm breath skimmed over my ear, across my cheek. I fought a delicious shiver and lost.

  His chuckle, acknowledging and liking my reaction, was my reward.

  “It’s hard to undo your zipper when you’re holding my hand,” I told him. I could tease and boss with the best of them.

  I craved submission. I also enjoyed submitting more when my partner had to work to earn the right to have it.

  A thousand ideas flashed behind my darkened lids of how this man, this big strong man with a sexy as hell voice, could earn that from me.

  He pressed my hand firmly against his cock. It was so damn thick, I yearned to feel the full weight of him in my hand. His hand let me go and I took the moment to squeeze, to test, but impatience won out and soon I was at his waist.

  I undid the button.

  Then his zipper.

  He’d told me to free him so I didn’t wait for further instruction. I pressed my hands to his hips, lingered at muscles beneath my thumbs I knew my tongue would love to trace at some point later. Then I was pushing down his pants, along with skin-tight boxer briefs.

  He groaned as he was released and I didn’t wait.

  My hand went to his length. It was more impressive standing at attention. We were so close, when I ran my hand down the full of him, the tip of his cock rubbed against my belly.

  But it was his girth that made me jerk.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, and his hand was at my shoulder, brushing my hair behind me. “I’ll make sure you’re ready.”

  “I wasn’t worried.” It was a lie. This guy was huge and I was a girl who could be easily pleased with average. I didn’t judge a guy in bed based on the size of his equipment. I’d had great sex with smaller sized dicks and disappointing sex with larger men.

  But this man. His confidence and the size of his body and his dick pulsing in my hand?

  John could crush me.

  “Confident and bold,” he murmured. His hand was still at my shoulder, brushing along my collarbone. His hand wrapped around my throat and with his thumb, he pressed my chin up. “You have me wondering if you’ll taste as spicy as you seem to be. Or will you be sweet once I get my mouth on you?”

  His thumb at my chin pressed my jaw closed so I couldn’t respond with words, but I could with actions. I slid my hand up and down his shaft, squeezing him firmly at the tip, teasing the drop of pre-cum. He wasn’t the only one wondering what someone would taste like. My hand slid down and cupped his balls, heavy and already pulled tight. Man, he was impressive everywhere.

  The desire to tear off the blindfold was an itch beneath the surface. What would he do? Spank me? Tie me down?

  Or worse…would he leave? It wasn’t the worth the risk. Not with how turned on I was.

  “What do you like?” I asked, squeezing him again. My breaths were ragged. My legs trembled. He needed to tell me to lay down before they buckled.

  There was a smile in his voice as he said, “So far, I like everything you’re doing. But for now.” He pressed his hand over mine again. His large hand enveloped my much smaller one as he placed mine on his shoulder. “I want you to lay down on the bed. Hands to the headboard.”

  Oh goodie. We were really getting started. I suppressed a smile and a sassy word that wanted to escape and sat back down. Scooting backward, I kept my face on where I assumed he was still standing. Then I heard the clink of a belt buckle telling me he was kicking his feet out of his pants. The rustle of his shirt as he removed it.

  I expected him to tug at my ankles and separate my legs, bind them so we could get to the good stuff, but then his hands were on my legs.

  Goose bumps trailed in his wake and I squirmed from the firm contact of his ski
n on mine for the first time. His hands were rough, proving he worked hard, not just behind a desk all day. He moved slowly but with intent and the bed dipped as he placed his weight on it.

  Then he was over me, the warmth from his body covering my lower half, his hands at my thighs. A brush of scruff scraped across my stomach, right below my navel.

  I hadn’t even thought to touch his face earlier. Or his hair. His command to keep my hands at the headboard was hell. I wanted to finish my investigation.

  “Stay still,” he said, his lips at my stomach. He kissed me along the line of my panties from one hip to the other. I held my breath and tightened my abs. His kisses were delicious. Warm and wet, full lips like I’d imagined. The scrape of a short beard delicious as ice cream on a sweltering summer day.

  “Oh God,” I whimpered. My legs were taut. My ass pressed into the mattress so I didn’t wiggle. “Please.”

  “Please what?” he asked. His tone lightened, voice gone playful. How could this man be playful when I was going mad? A tug of my panties brushed my hip, and then the other. He pulled them off slowly and every inch of lace sliding along my skin tortured me.

  God. I’d never been so wet. My center pulsed with rabid need to have him inside of me and the knuckles of my hand ached as I forced them to stay still.

  “Hurry,” I whined and I couldn’t find a care in the world to flinch at the neediness in my tone. “Please.”

  “You haven’t answered me.”

  He’d left me. Somewhere between the panty-stripping and tummy kisses, his weight had moved off the bed. He was across the room talking and my head turned that way.

  “What do you want, little one?”

  Every fucking thing he wanted to give me. But boldness was key. Generalities never worked. “Your cock inside of me.”

  He hummed and the sound of movement along the carpet told me he was coming back. My stomach clenched in anticipation.

  And then nothing happened. The room went silent. My nerves piqued.

  “John?” I asked when all I heard was the thundering of my own heartbeat.

  “There’s so much I want to do to you I was having trouble deciding what to start with first.”

  Oh God. Yes. My entire body tightened with expectation.

  “Roll over and crawl to the headboard. Hands at the top.”

  I’d never moved so fast in my life. I scampered into position and a rush of breath left me as his hand grabbed mine. A cold leather band was tightened around my wrist.

  “So you don’t get any ideas,” he said, and that teasing tone was back. He moved around me and fastened the other. The bed dipped and my head fell. God what I wouldn’t give to see this man. I could come by his words alone and a few teasing touches. My nipples ached, hardened points and he hadn’t touched them yet. I should have asked. I expected his hand at my ass. Lips on my thighs. I jumped as I felt him brush against my legs and his voice came from beneath me. “Spread your legs wider and lower yourself.”

  “Oh God,” I moaned. He was beneath me. His hands on my thighs.

  Before I had time to comply, those hands pulled me down and I was on him. His mouth moved instantly and fiercely. There was no preparation, no warm-up, teasing flickers of his tongue at my slit. No, not with John. His mouth consumed me, eating me. His tongue pushed inside of me and his hands gripped me tight against him so there was no way I could move. I couldn’t shift or roll my hips. I couldn’t pull away. I could only succumb.

  This damn man. He didn’t wait to earn my submission, he took it.

  I’d never been more enthralled.

  A fierce fire hit me hard and fast. The beautiful kind that started at my stomach, spread outward until it pulled at my inner thighs. My muscles shook like I’d run a marathon and that heat rolled up my spine. The sounds I made were animalistic, tortured and pleasured mixed together in moans and whimpers. Words were lost to me as I abandoned any hope of decency.

  Chants rolled from my lips. Nonsensical ones. Vowels formed. Consonants forgotten as my orgasm hit me. So fast. So damn fast and hard my body shook and rolled with it and even then he kept at me, sucking my clit into his mouth until it ached.

  “Please,” I gasped. I meant to tell him to stop. It was too much. Instead I begged for more as his hand on my hip moved, and then two fingers were shoved deep inside of me. He fucked me roughly, wildly, in a way I had never been fucked before and knew would never be again.

  Shit. He was ruining me and he was only using his mouth and fingers.

  “Give me one more.”

  “I don’t know if I can.” I was breathless. So close and yet fighting it. If I could see him, his chin would be drenched from me. His mouth was wet and slippery. I was wetter.

  “You can.” And as if to prove it, his hand slid to my back, down through my crease. His thumb put pressure at my hole, and that was all it took. Between the friction of his mouth, the delicious zing of pleasure at my backside, it took barely anything and I was doing exactly what he told me to.

  The orgasm swept through my body with hurricane-force winds. I threw back my head, hair hitting my butt and right as I was coming down, he was up and behind me, his chest against my back, his hands at my wrists.

  “You’re fucking beautiful. Magnificent, Beth. How much more do you have in you?”

  “None.” I was breathless. Shaking. I needed a nap for two weeks and physical therapy to recover from everything he’d given me.

  A fierce burning hit my ass and I jumped from the force of his spanking. “Now I just don’t think that’s true at all.”

  “Oh God,” I whispered.

  He undid the buckles at my wrists and somehow, he was tender as he rubbed where the leather had tightened around them.

  “Hands okay?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Words were useless. I could barely nod.

  “You’re doing great.” He was still whispering. Still being so tender and gentle. What man could be so rough and gentle?

  “Let your arms down slowly, your shoulders might be stiff.”

  “It’s not my shoulders that are stiff,” I grumbled as he moved us. He laid me down and rolled me to my back.

  He went straight to my thighs and parted them, kissed the inside, close to my center. “Poor little one. I can kiss it and make it better.”

  I huffed a laugh. It was all I had in me. “I think you’ve kissed it enough.”

  His laugh was soft but deep, and somehow my cheeks ached from smiling. Sex with strangers was often daring. It was evocative.

  Rarely was it fun.

  The crinkle of foil grabbed my attention and despite my pleas that I was done, my knees widened for him without being told.

  “See? You do need more.”

  “Maybe just a bit.”

  “It’s more than a bit,” he quipped back. I hadn’t forgotten. But hell, I hoped I was ready for this. If he could make me sore from a good finger bang, what could he do with his dick?

  I didn’t have time to ask. He was above me then, his legs spreading mine open farther. His lips were at my jaw, my ear, teasing and nipping at my lobe. I turned toward him, instinctively. Not everyone liked to kiss.

  He hadn’t said it was a hard limit.

  Tristan would have let me know.

  Then his mouth landed on mine. Like before, he didn’t tease, he didn’t build up. He took what he wanted and slid his tongue inside, devouring the cavern of my mouth while the firm tip of him rubbed against me.

  “Fuck,” he groaned. He slid inside slowly, unlike his kisses and everything else, but God I needed that.

  “Shit,” I chanted.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “No.” God, it didn’t hurt. It was a fullness, a weight, and it was incredible. “More.”

  He pulled back, and for the millionth time, I resisted the urge to remove my blindfold. When he kissed me again, he was smiling. “And you said you were done.”

  “You’re driving me crazy.” He was moving in and out, going deeper on ever
y inward thrust but the pace was killing me.

  “Trust me, I feel the same. You feel fucking amazing. So tight and wet. Burning hot. You’re a fantastic fuck, little one.”

  “Shit,” I gasped again. “Please faster.”

  “You’ll get what I give you.”

  “It’s just that you give such good presents.”

  “Fuck,” he groaned, slamming deep. He collapsed on me, falling to his elbows at my sides and buried his face in the crook of my neck. “I wasn’t expecting a comedy show. Goddamn, you’re feisty.”

  His shoulders and back shook with his laughter, but then he rose, and I missed the heat of him. He was so much taller than me, my lips were at his shoulder. He’d had to bend to kiss me and fuck me. Good Lord, he was strong.

  “Done playing,” he said. And his tone had gone dark. “You feel too damn good. Put your hands on my wrists.”

  I wanted to keep them on his back, his muscles were divine and defined. With every thrust, every movement, some hard piece of him bubbled beneath my hand.

  Still, I listened and adjusted until I wrapped my hands around his wrists.

  He moved rapidly, thrusting his body into me, groaning while he did it. If he could finger bang me to oblivion, I’d be in another galaxy by the time we were done. He shifted and lifted my hip, went deeper, dragged himself along the rigid muscles inside of me and soon my head was tilted back, gasping for breath.

  He seemed to do the same. His speed increased, his kisses stopped. His hand at my hip moved again and he leaned forward.

  “Don’t come yet,” he groaned. “Not until I do.” His hand was at my chest, moving up. He curled it around my throat and beneath the blindfold, my eyes widened.

  I gasped in surprise, a small amount of fear. But he waited until my orgasm was closer. Pleasure swarmed my body and I said the only words I could make. “Please. Yes.”

  He grasped my throat. Just enough pressure to remind me he was there but even that little bit drove me insane. I swallowed beneath his hand and inhaled as deep as a breath as possible.