The Play

by Karina Halle

  He pulls back slightly and reaches into his pocket, his pants slung low on his hips, his throbbing cock beating against me in time with his heart. He pulls out a condom. The foil crinkles as he tears it open, and for a moment I wonder if he’d always planned to see me tonight.

  I watch eagerly, holding my breath as he slides the sheath on, loving the ease in which he handles himself. His pants fall to his ankles and he positions his tip against my wetness, hesitating, teasing. He grins at me, biting his lip, sly eyes appraising me, as he rubs his engorged head up and down over my swollen skin.

  “Stop being a fucking tease,” I whimper, my hands going around the hard lines of his waist, grabbing onto his ass. God, it’s just how I thought it would feel—firm, hard, round, and filled with power waiting to be unleased. I press my palms against his skin and pull him toward me, his cheeks bunched beneath my hands.

  My world opens.

  With a hiss, he pushes his cock into me with one sharp, searing movement. If I wasn’t so fucking wet, there is no way I’d be able to accommodate him, and even now I feel so deliciously full, I might burst.

  “Oh love,” he says with a raspy groan. “Fuck.”

  I can only gasp, feeling my toes curl as he slides in further.

  It’s better than I imagined.

  It’s perfect.

  He’s perfect.

  With each thrust, his cock drawing in and out, I move backward across the counter. He puts his palm behind my head, firmly holding me in place, allowing him to go deeper and deeper and deeper.

  My mind is shattering, I am shattering, the sensation of having him so joined to me, so thick and thorough and all-encompassing, takes over my every thought. I am just feeling and raw, desperate with need. And I want more. So much more.

  I’m a greedy, greedy girl.

  I grab hold of his biceps, hard as concrete slabs, as he works me in and out. I hold him, still in awe, desperate to hold him close to me. This man, this beast, for now is all mine, and I’m going to have to work hard to be worthy of this.

  His mouth joins with mine, moving together in deep, searing kisses in a rhythm that his body matches as he thrusts his hips forward, his cock driving deeper and deeper inside. Every nerve in my body is being pulled inward, swirling into a hard knot, live wires needing the slightest hair trigger to set me free. Each deep shove of his body threatens to undo me.

  I run my fingers down his forearms, feeling the ropey muscles as he holds me in place, then I brush my hands back up to his biceps, to the round slabs of his shoulders, down his bare chest, his rippling abs, teasing over the rough hair that leads down to his shaft. I grip him there at the base, wet with my own desire, and he growls unapologetically with wild lust.

  I want to make him make those noises until the end of time. Bringing him to his knees once won’t be enough for me.

  With one hand, he reaches down and takes my hand off of him and rubs my fingers up and down over my clit. I’m so sensitive, so ready, I whimper, knowing I can’t hold back anymore.

  “You said you wanted to come around me,” he whispers throatily into my ear. “You’re going to right now. And I want your neighbors to hear.”

  What he just said is so hot that I don’t bother telling him that the neighbors have learned to block out my noises by now.

  His hand rubs my fingers faster, harder, into myself, and he pulls his head back to watch me as both our hands stroke myself to the edge of oblivion.

  “That’s it,” he says, his eyes so dark now, his stare deep and measuring, determined to get inside me, determined to get me off. “Kayla.” My name sounds like pure heat. “Come for me.”

  I can’t hold myself back. I let go.

  Freefall.

  It spreads slowly at first, like lighting a fuse, the spark traveling from my core and out through every nerve in my body. Then I implode with a jolt that makes me scream. I’ve cried out, yelled, moaned, and cursed, but I’ve never screamed during sex, yet here I am, violence ripping out of me with nowhere else to go.

  And it’s not over. I’m a rocket blasting off, just shuddering, shaking, quaking in a rolling boil of fire. I can’t control my body or my thoughts—I’m just flying through the air, exploding in a wave of stars. My heart fills to the brim then floods over with emotion that nearly brings tears to my eyes.

  I have been obliterated. He’s completely ruined me, and I’m already dying to have it again and again and again.

  “Holy fuck,” I cry against him, my head buried into his sweaty neck, holding his hard body against me, as if I would sink into further oblivion if I didn’t. “Oh god. Lachlan.”

  He gives me one of his monosyllabic grunts and pulls his head back, grinning down at me. The lust hasn’t left his eyes, and I realize he hasn’t come yet.

  “That was the appetizer, love,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against my gasping mouth. “I’ll go all night.”

  I can’t believe I’m about to say this. “I need a breather,” I tell him, my hands curling around his neck while I rest my forehead against his scruffy chin. “Have mercy on me.”

  “Oh, I see,” he says lightly. “You can walk the walk but you can’t talk the talk.”

  I raise my head and look him in those gorgeous eyes. “I’m still pulsing around you,” I tell him frankly, my breath coming under control.

  “I know,” he says. “It’s only making me harder.” He puts his hand at my mouth, runs a finger over my lip. “I can’t wait to taste you.” He pulls himself out of me, kicks off his shoes and his pants, then grips my hips and lifts me up. “Come here,” he says, now stark-ass naked. He carries me across the kitchen to the living room where he places me on my back lengthwise.

  He climbs on top of me, his hard, ginormous thighs on either side of my hips, his cock jutting out. I stare at him, wide-eyed, for a beautiful moment as I drink all of him in. I want to lick every single tattoo on his torso, slide my lips over every sculpted ridge. There is something spellbinding, and it’s not only just the sight of him, finally naked and in front of me, but the way his eyes are pinning me down, filled with thoughts and desires I wish I could see.

  I expect him to push himself inside me next, but he leans over, bracing his elbows on either of my shoulders. He smiles down at me and I’m unnerved at how gentle it is. It softens everything about him. Lines crinkle at the corners of his eyes, and his brow smooths out. He’s less of a raging beast but still just as beautiful.

  He runs his fingers over my nose, down the hills of my lips, looking at me like he’s seeing me, and it’s so strangely intimate, considering our non-relationship so far, that I want to look away and break the gaze.

  Thankfully, he breaks it for me. He licks along the rim of my ear, the sensation causing my skin to prickle. “I want to taste every corner of your body,” he murmurs. “Is that all right?”

  I swallow hard. “Do you even have to ask?”

  “Normally I wouldn’t,” he says, licking down my neck, causing my back to arch. “But since you needed a breather…”

  I put my hand in his hair and make a fist, tugging on his soft strands. “Just fucking eat me already.”

  He chuckles. “There’s my girl.”

  My girl. His words fist punch me right in the heart.

  Dear god.

  He continues to bring his lips and tongue down the length of my body, caressing my collarbone, my breasts, sucking hard at my nipples until I’m dizzy, nearly mad with sensation. My fingers dig into the taut muscles of his back, turning into desperate clawing as he continues to move downward.

  My stomach shivers under his tongue, and my hips jerk under the tickle of his stubble, the sweep of his soft lips.

  Finally his head settles between my legs and I part them wider for him, thirsty with dire anticipation. Naturally, he takes his time. He parts me open, slowly letting the rough pad of his fingertip brush over my sensitive flesh.

  I’m already gasping, unable to keep quiet, to contain myself.

  Then
his tongue snakes out, sliding along my clit and setting off more fireworks that flame the fire inside me. My breath shakes, unstable, my fingers clawing at the sheets. My hips lift up, wanting more of him.

  He obliges, putting his mouth and lips into it. And he’s watching me. Those wild eyes are watching my every movement as he gives me more and more pleasure, his teeth razing over my clit, his tongue plunging deep inside. His head between my legs is the world’s most beautiful sight, and I know I’m looking dumbfounded and crazed as I stare back at him.

  It’s too much. Too soon.

  But fuck if I don’t crave it the minute I look away.

  So I look back and his heated gaze is still on me, his brows furrowed in epic determination, like a man going off to war, and I’m surprised his look alone doesn’t make me come. I can almost feel him in deep, into the hopeless, dark parts of me I never go, like he’s willing everything forward and out into the open.

  Fuck, this man is driving me more insane now than when he was giving me the cold shoulder.

  I can’t hold his gaze any longer. I throw my head back and the world becomes warmer, warmer, tighter, as if my universe were built of tiny heated stars. It grows and grows and grows, this impossible force inside me that gathers every single nerve and piece of my body until its wound over and over again.

  The slide of his tongue pulls the trigger.

  “Holy shit,” I cry out, and he murmurs into me, his groans vibrating deep inside and kicking me over the edge. I’m going over, falling into a net of burning stars, and my fingers grab his hair, pulling at him in desperation, trying to hold on even though there’s no use. The orgasm never seems to end and I turn into a quivering, boneless body.

  It’s only while I’m lying here, legs splayed to the side and trying to breathe, that I realize he still hasn’t come yet.

  I’m going to need another fucking breather.

  But before I can voice that, he’s at me, on his knees, and grabbing hold of one thigh and lifting it high, positioning himself. He pushes inside, still hard through all of that, and I’m so wet and spent that he slides in easily. He’s still as huge and thick as he was in the kitchen. He shoves himself into me with pressing urgency, and I have to give the man credit for keeping it together this long.

  “I won’t take long, love,” he hisses, his accent muddled with lust. He grinds into me, his hips circling, pinning me to the bed as he pistons himself in and out. He is merciless, grunting hard with each thrust, this rough, animalistic noise that gets louder and louder the closer he gets to coming. It’s such a fucking beautiful noise that causes the heat to build in my core, coaxing the last bit of flames I have left.

  I stare up at him, at his body, at this gorgeous specimen of discipline and pain and good genes. He grips my leg, pushing my thighs back into my stomach so he can thrust in deeper, and it’s almost too deep, but he pulls back just in time, groaning hoarsely.

  The bed moves, rocking back and forth loudly, and I’m enthralled as he works me, fucking me like an animal, fucking me like a basic, primal being who has been built for this and only this. Faster, harder, deeper. His pace is relentless.

  I can see him starting to lose control, dipping over the edge, and I give myself a hand so I can match him. His eyes burn into mine, and then he’s in deep, so deep that he’s shaking and muttering my name in low, guttural tones before letting loose a string of filthy swears.

  It sets me off for the third time tonight, and once again I’m floating, flying, but this time I’m with him, and we’re riding it together, our bodies joined inside and out. For this moment, we are one, moving as one, feeling as one.

  My heart is huge and filled with bliss.

  I’m sated.

  I’m happy.

  I am so fucking over my head.

  Lachlan collapses against me, his hard body sweaty and sliding against mine, and I do something I never do after sex. I wrap my arms around him and hold him close to me, trying to keep him inside me for as long as possible, not wanting the warmth, the connection, to be broken.

  And he stays in me for as long as he can, his breath steadying in my ear, his lips brushing my neck briefly, before he rolls over and pulls out. He seems to barely have enough strength to tie the end together before he gets to his feet and pulls me up.

  “Bed. Now,” he says, completely caveman.

  I dutifully follow, my legs shaking beneath me as we walk into my bedroom. We both collapse naked onto the bed, and he pulls me toward him, not quite spooning but not letting go either. I tell myself that I’ll eventually have to move, that I can’t fall asleep when someone’s touching me.

  But the world goes dark. My dreams beckon warmly. And I fall asleep in his arms.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Lachlan

  I feel soft fingers at my cheek. I open my eyes, blinking into the dark until I see the shadow of a girl at my side, hazy light coming in from an open window.

  Kayla. I swallow, feeling panicked.

  “Are you okay?” she whispers.

  “Yeah…” I shake my head trying to get my bearings. “Yeah. Why? What…what time is it?”

  “Almost morning,” she says softly, her fingers trailing down to my jaw. “You were having a bad dream.”

  Fucking hell. How much of it did she hear?

  “I don’t, uh, I can’t remember,” I tell her, trying to but only recalling feeling despair.

  “Probably a good thing,” she says.

  “What was I saying?” I ask hesitantly.

  “You were calling out…” she trails off, hands drifting over my chest. “For Lionel.”

  I breathe out in relief. “Lionel is my dog,” I tell her.

  She cocks her head at me. “You have another dog?”

  “At home, yeah.” Though there’s no point in telling her that I most likely wasn’t calling out for my dog in my dream. I was dreaming of being a child again, the day my mum gave me away. But lying here in this beautiful woman’s bed is no place to bring up tragedies.

  “You must be excited to go back home to him,” she says, and though she’s hiding it, I can hear the trace of disappointment in her voice. Everything is always more clear in the dark.

  I reach for her face, pulling her closer to me. “What I am is determined to make these last few days count,” I tell her as I kiss her softly at the edge of her mouth. “I’m far from done with you.”

  If anything, Kayla has unlocked a part of me I rarely, if ever, tap into. It’s been months since I last slept with anyone, and back then it was some bird I picked up at the bar. I was drunk and in a bad place—the two are mutual with each other—and feeling sorry for myself. I shagged the chick in the bathroom, and that was that. Before that, I can’t remember. Once I’d decided to quit the meaningless one-night stands, sex was put on the back burner.

  Now, I am burning, raging like an inferno, and long overdue. When I showed up at her door, I wasn’t sure how she was going to take things, but I knew it was time to stop pretending that she hadn’t gotten to me, that I didn’t want to have her in whatever way I could.

  And, bloody hell, she was ready for whatever I gave her. The words that came out of her mouth did my head in, turned me upside down, as if I wasn’t already letting the lust run away with me.

  I want more. I want her every day, all the time, until I leave.

  “I’m not done with you either,” she says throatily, and the tone makes my cock stiffen, hot and thick and straining against the sheets. Her lips open against mine, and I slide my tongue in, tasting her sweet, wicked little mouth.

  I need to fuck her, messy, hot, and wild. I want her body, her touch, her light to replace all the darkness that creeps into my dreams.

  “Oh, you gorgeous thing,” I murmur, running the pad of my thumb over her peaked nipple as she arches back, her body begging for more. “I’ll go mad if I can’t get inside you.”

  She looks up at me, and in the dim light, I see her coy smile. “I like driving men mad.”
>
  “I know you do, love. But have some pity on me. It’s been a while.”

  She jerks her head in surprise. “Really?”

  “Really. So have some compassion and spread your fucking legs.”

  “Oh no,” she says, putting her hand on my chest and pushing me back. “You lie back. You spread your fucking legs.”

  I cock a brow. “What?”

  “Believe me,” she says saucily, pushing me flat on my back. “You want this.”

  She straddles me, and I wish she was facing the window so I can see those fantastic tits more clearly. “Do you have a condom?” I ask, my voice croaking with need.

  “Yes, for later,” she says and keeps moving back until she’s at my knees. “You won’t want one now.” She rakes her nails over the hard planes of my stomach, my abs tensing from the abrasion, before she settles in between my legs.

  My cock juts straight up, nearly obscuring her from my view. I prop one arm beneath my head, my other hand sinking into her hair, wrapping the silky strands around my fingers.

  She takes my length in her hand, and my blood pulses against her palm. The feeling is nearly too much to bear. Her mouth opens, those lush lips sliding over the tip, pushing me into a flurry of lust that sends my eyes back into my skull. Fuck she’s good, sliding her tongue over the veins, over every hardened ridge, like she can’t get enough, like I’m a fucking ice cream cone on a hot day.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, eyes pinched shut, pulling on her hair. “Don’t fucking stop.”

  She pulls her mouth off, a wet sucking sound, and I think for a terrible moment that she is stopping, and every part of me tenses in frustration. Then her hand comes down over my cock, sliding like silk, pulling back to the base until I think my head might explode. I jerk my hips up, craving release.

  But she has more planned. She lowers her head and slowly, gently takes my balls into her mouth, while stroking me off with her hand.

  Jesus. Thank you. Thank you. Rare is the woman who will suck on your balls like candy. I wonder if I can smuggle Kayla back in my carry-on. She’s small enough.