The Play

by Karina Halle

  “So warm,” he whispers hoarsely. “Just like this.” He draws out slightly and drives back inside, pushing me harder against the glass. Every single nerve is a live wire singing, and my heart is beating so fast I’m afraid it might shatter me and the glass.

  He comes at me again, arching his hips up, his cock so thick and rigid, filling me to the brim. I can feel his ass flex against my legs as he pounds deeper and deeper in intense, animalistic thrusts. His mouth is hungry, wanting, as it devours my neck, and I feel so wonderfully desired, taken, needed.

  Lachlan is just a pure fucking machine, made to fuck, to come, to deliver me into star-bursting ecstasy. He’s merciless in his lust, and I surrender every part of me. I’ve never felt like so much of a woman before, with so much of a man.

  “How do I feel?” he asks, breath ragged, before he grunts with another long, hard thrust, and I’m forced to moan in kind.

  “Unbelievable,” I tell him. “I need more.”

  His hand slips to my clit and he presses his thumb there, rubbing with each thrust. “And now?” He pulls his head back to stare at me, his eyes flashing with every upward pump of his cock. “How does your sweet little cunt feel now?”

  Dear god. Just his words, those dirty fucking words in that rough accent from that wet full mouth, is more than I can handle. I grab him tighter as my back hits the glass again and again. Each strike brings fear of breaking through, of falling to my death, while each thrust brings me closer and closer to pure fucking bliss.

  “Look at me,” he commands, voice raspy and broken. I open my eyes—I hadn’t even realized I shut them—and meet his, inches away from mine. “I could watch you come all day,” he says.

  I bite my lip, swallowing a groan as his cock drives me closer to the edge. “And I could come all day, if you’re ever game for that.”

  “You’re fantastic,” he murmurs, kissing me quickly, hot, wet, and sweet, his tongue teasing the seam of my mouth. “So bloody fantastic.”

  Something changes in his eyes, like a switch being flipped, and they look almost menacing in their desire for me. His pace quickens, his hips like pistons, firing again and again, my whole body slamming against the glass until I’m gasping, but I don’t know if it’s from fear or from pleasure. Maybe they’re the same thing right now because being with him, having his cock barreling into me, is as scary as it is amazing. Because the feelings that he’s stirring, the threats of hedonistic pleasure, have the power to take over my life.

  He’s making me crazy. I’m insane for him, every single inch, from the line between his brows to his thick length inside me, and I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’m just here, being fucked hard against a thin pane of glass, high above San Francisco, holding onto a man that will eventually have to leave.

  My orgasm sneaks up on me. I feel it generate from my core, spreading outward like a supernova, gaining speed in waves and waves and waves of stardust until it lets go, thundering in aftershocks. I yell nonsense, holding him tight, breaking away from his eyes because it’s too much for me to see. I can’t even contain it. I ride it, muscles jerking, body a ragdoll gone rogue.

  He comes with hoarse grunts and powerful thrusts like he’s actually going to fuck me out of the window, but it’s okay because I’m already falling and falling and falling.

  I collapse into his arms, not even able to keep my head up. Every part of me is both soft and translucent and shaking from the strain.

  He grabs my waist and pulls me off the glass, spinning me around and laying me on top of the bed. He climbs in beside me, hooking one of his large, long legs around mine, pulling me an inch closer so my face is nestled into the crook of his arm.

  I regain my ability to breathe, in and out, trying to come back down to earth, while he trails his fingers over my hair, from crown to shoulder, over and over, this softness, this gentleness that nearly lures me into sleep.

  I open my eyes and look at him. His head is propped up on his hand and he’s looking me over with a heavy, sated expression. Everything about him in this one moment is soft and diffused. Even the lines on his forehead and the hardness in his eyes have been worn away to a smooth slab.

  He clears his throat. “Do you think anyone saw?” he asks gently.

  I swallow, my mouth parched, everything in me so exhausted. “I hope so. We would have given them quite the show. Or the scare. I thought I was going to go over the edge.”

  “I would have gone right with you,” he says gently, running his thumb over my lip. I gently kiss it then close my eyes. The world is still spinning, but it’s beautiful.

  It isn’t long until one of the dogs whines from the other room. I snap my eyes open and see Lachlan smiling at me happily. “Well,” he says, moving to get up. “At least they let me fuck you like that.”

  I can’t help but grin at him and watch his ass as he strolls—nude, large, and in charge, into the other room. I fight the urge to run after him and take a bite of his ass, like an apple, and instead use the bathroom.

  Once inside, I look in the mirror and barely recognize the girl staring back at me. My lips are red and puffy, my face and chest are pink from orgasm. My eyes are large, wet pools, and my hair is an absolute wreck. I look like I’ve had a few good days of nonstop fucking and that thought alone makes me wonder what I’d look like then.

  When I walk out of the bathroom, I’m not really sure what to do. Do I go home? Stay the night? At least stay a bit longer? But Lachlan is at the door, already fully dressed with the dogs on leashes.

  “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  I’m totally naked still. I eye the silky dress on the floor. My heels are in the bedroom. They’re clothes for getting fucked in, not for taking dogs for a walk.

  He’s smiling at me, amused, as I quickly slip my dress over my head then head back into his room to retrieve my heels. I slide them on, and when I come out of the room, he’s holding a black leather moto jacket out for me. It’s huge and looks like he’s had it for decades.

  “To keep you warm,” he says as he puts it over my shoulders. He eyes me up and down, admiring the look. He nods and makes an agreeable noise. I pull it close around me and breathe in deep. The jacket is a relic, but it smells amazing, like him.

  Though the little dog, Emily, is still looking at me like I’m public enemy number one, we get the dogs into the elevator and walk toward the waterfront. I’m amazed at how well they are behaving with him, walking on a leash like its second nature. It seems unlikely that he can’t train them.

  My mind wants to focus on what he said earlier: behavioral problems. But I push the thought away. Even if it’s true, the fact that Lachlan has issues doesn’t scare me at all. In fact, it’s pretty obvious, just from looking into his eyes, that there are some demons deep inside of him. My only problem is the need to find out. My damn curiosity. If he’s broken, how and why? Because he was put in an orphanage? I can only imagine growing up like that would provide you with a lifetime of personal demons.

  “So,” Lachlan drawls out in his thick brogue as we sit down on a bench, the Bay Bridge nearly over us. “I was wondering…how would you like to come away with me on Friday and Saturday night?”

  My heart does a flip. “But I thought you leave on Sunday?”

  “Aye, I do,” he says, twisting the ends of the leash over and over again in his hands. “It’s…last minute.”

  “Where would we go?”

  “Napa Valley,” he says, stealing a glance at me. “Bram invited us.”

  “Us?” I repeat.

  He nods once. “Yes. One last hurrah or something like that. He and Nicola. Linden and Steph. And…you and me.” He pauses. “I haven’t told him yes or no. I wanted to ask you first. I know that we don’t know each other well and that going away on a trip can be a minefield for relationships. As if relationships aren’t minefields by themselves.” He looks away and smiles bitterly at some memory, his face shadowed in the streetlights. “I also know that this…”
He gestures with his finger between us, “…is different.”

  “Not a relationship,” I fill in, even though something shifts in my chest when I say that.

  He squints at me for a moment. “No. So what do you say?”

  “Well, of course I want to go,” I tell him, putting my hand over his, partly to make a point, and partly to stop his nervous fidgeting. It’s almost adorable.

  “You don’t think it’s odd? To go off with me?”

  Hell, I’d follow you anywhere. But of course I don’t say that.

  “It’ll be fun,” I tell him. “So long as we get more than enough time to ourselves.”

  “My cousins will have to drag us from our room,” he says, and his expression is still so sincere that I know he means it. He lifts my hand up, flips my palm over, and kisses it, his lips so full, soft. and wet, his gaze never leaving my face. I love that he does that. Not the back of my hand, always the palm, the love lines, where my skin is delicate and my nerves ignite.

  After we sit by the water for a bit, watching the cars on the bridge and the reflection of the lights on the silver water of the bay, we head back to the apartment. It’s still relatively early and we fall back into his bed, our bodies finding each other again. His hunger for me just doesn’t seem to abide, and I don’t think I’ll ever get my fill. We fuck and fuck again, every way we can, until it’s after midnight and I know, I know I have to go home.

  Somehow I force myself to leave him. I kiss him goodbye as he stands naked in his doorway, not caring at all who might walk past. His eyes are soft, that beautiful peace he gets from sex, as he watches me go down the hall to the elevator. Not smiling, just watching.

  Maybe wishing, just as I wish, that we didn’t hear that clock ticking in the back of our minds.

  Counting down.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Kayla

  I am completely obsessed with Lachlan McGregor.

  And not in the good way, in the coy, polite, restrained, never giving into my urges kind of way like most proper girls are. Oh no, not me. I’m obsessed in the can’t stop furiously masturbating every moment I get because I can’t get him out of my head way. I can’t stop seeing his hips as they drive and drive and drive into me, I can’t stop feeling his lips on my skin, the way he refers to my cunt in that overly Scottish way, the way he looks at me sometimes like he can’t believe I’m there. I can’t stop picturing his beautiful face, his tattoos, and the parts of him they represent, the parts he locks away and rarely shows. I can’t stop obsessing over every detail of his existence.

  Because it makes me happy. It makes me so fucking happy that I think I might be going insane. My heart is permanently swollen, like a red balloon, and the more it pushes at my chest, as if my body, my soul, isn’t big enough to contain it all, the more alive I feel. My head is just this fuzzy, warm, sparkling place, and I’m walking through the moments of the day in a dream. A beautiful dream that doesn’t end.

  Before today I could hide my obsession. I kept it inside. But now that he’s gotten inside me, I can’t will it away. It has people in my office asking me if I’m on drugs. It has me smiling, beaming, at strangers on the street. It has me wondering if I should be committed, because feelings like this aren’t normal and aren’t to be trusted, but I feel too good to even care.

  Unfortunately, going mental doesn’t mean that I can just forget about my current life. I’m just about to head over to Lachlan’s after work for some hot fucking sex, when my mother calls.

  It’s a hammer to the gut.

  She’s sounding weak. Tired. Sad. Her voice reaches into my head, my heart, and lets the air out.

  As much as I’m addicted to Lachlan, to every single fucking thing about him, I love my mom, and I can’t, won’t, push her aside for a man, no matter how good the sex is, no matter how infatuated I am.

  I tell my mom that I’ll come over and make dinner for us. She sounds so relieved that I know I’m doing the right thing.

  I text Lachlan to fill him in, hoping he didn’t have anything major planned. Last night, even the appetizers and wine surprised me. The last thing I expected from a big, burly, rugby beast was something romantic.

  He answers back with an Okay, no worries.

  And for some reason it absolutely breaks my heart. I have such little time left with him. I stare at my phone, thinking, while the rest of the office empties out. I want him to text back and suggest we meet up after. Then I realize he might be waiting for me to say that.

  Fuck, I’m not used to this. I didn’t really care about how I came across to all the guys I was seeing and screwing before. If they didn’t seem interested anymore, I moved on lickety-split. But Lachlan is a game-changer.

  I suck on my lip and bite the bullet.

  I ask him what I really want to ask him.

  Want to come with me and meet my mom?

  I press send and hold my breath, waiting. He’s going to say no. He’s going to be weirded out. He’s going to gracefully untangle himself from my grip. And me, I’m going to pretend it doesn’t hurt, tell him that we’re different, that there are no rules right now. He’s leaving, and that means we can get away with murder until he goes.

  I’d love to.

  The text across the screen makes my face split in two.

  I tell him I’ll come by to get him in five minutes. Then I have a mini-debate over telling my mom that I’m bringing a man over, the first man she’s ever seen me with since Kyle. I decide to keep it a secret—no use in freaking her out beforehand, especially as she’ll get her hopes up that he’s something more than he is. You know, like permanent.

  On the other hand, she’s fairly conservative. She may see all his tattoos and his beard and pass out.

  We’ll have to play it by ear.

  Soon I’m pulling up to Lachlan’s apartment and he’s striding from the doors to my car. I watch him, my mouth hanging open just a little, totally in awe. He must have gotten changed at the last minute because he’s in black dress pants, a black dress shirt, and his hair is slicked to the side, looking utterly presentable. All his tattoos are even covered.

  He opens the door and gets in, giving me a quick glance with bright eyes.

  “Hi,” he says, putting on his seatbelt.

  “Hi,” I say, rather breathlessly. “You look nice.” And by nice, I mean so handsome I want to cry.

  He scratches at the back of his neck and side-eyes me through dark lashes. “Wasn’t going to let a chance to impress your mother go to waste.”

  But isn’t it going to waste? Still, I bite my lip, totally thrilled that he made the effort. I would have been thrilled either way, since the fact that he agreed to come is fucking crazy in itself.

  I stare at him for a moment and he looks right back at me. I mean, he looks at me in that way only he can, and time just kind of locks down on us. It’s heavy and persistent, and I know I’m wondering if he’s going to kiss me. As if that’s a thing we do now, as if there’s a we.

  He leans in and I lean in, and it’s all slow motion from here on out. All over a kiss.

  But it’s more than a kiss. Everything seems more when it’s with him.

  His lips meet mine, mouth opening, sucking on my lower lip for one wet, hot moment before deepening all the way through. I am so amped up and fileted at the same time, one kiss undoing me before we even have a chance to begin.

  Somehow I manage to extract myself and drive, though my lips still burn from where he just was, and I’m tempted to run my fingers across them, to keep the friction going.

  He adjusts himself in his seat, legs splayed, trying to fit his body in my small front seat, and I’m reminded of after the rugby game, when we were both wet and muddy and coming back to his place for the first time. That feels like ages ago. Of course, back then he wasn’t trying to play down an obvious erection in his dress pants.

  “Want to hear some good news?” he says lightly after a few minutes.

  “Of course.”

  “E
d got adopted,” he says rather proudly.

  “Really?”

  He nods. “Aye. A local foster-to-adopt program got back to me and said they had someone interested. She and her husband came by to see him this morning and they fell in love. Ed’s gone.”

  “Aww,” I tell him, and my heart flutters like a bird in flight. Not just because he was able to home a dog who needed it, but because I can hear the warmth in his voice, like honey, like happiness. “I’m so happy for him. And you.”

  He shrugs. “I did what I could do. I’m just glad it paid off.”

  “And Emily?”

  “She’s at home. Sad little gal, she is. But once I get her to Edinburgh, she’ll be good.”

  “I guess she’ll be coming with us to Napa?”

  He glances at me, brow creased in concern. “Is that all right?”

  “One hundred percent,” I tell him emphatically. “I just hopes she learns to trust me at some point.”

  “She will, love,” he says, gazing out the window as we go over the Bay Bridge. “We all come around after a while.”

  It’s not long before we’re at my mom’s and I’m pulling the car to the curb.

  “Lovely place,” Lachlan says as he gets out of the car, staring up at the house. It doesn’t look like much in the twilight, but he sounds impressed.

  “It used to be really nice,” I tell him, my voice hushed as I open the low gate into the yard. “When I grew up here, anyway.”

  “It’s still lovely,” he says. He reaches down and grabs my hand and holds onto it, giving it a squeeze. Strength feeds into me from his grip, washing away the sadness and the memories of the after period.

  We walk up the front steps, hand in hand, me and my beast, and before I can knock on the door, it opens and my mother pokes her head out.

  She peers at me for only a second before her eyes drift over to Lachlan. They widen. She looks him up and down, and I can’t help but mimic her. Because it’s got to be cool to have two ladies giving you the eye at once.