Playing For Love

by J. C. Grant

  I found the confirmation text for her appointment and called it. After finding out she had kept her appointment, my anxiety quieted marginally, I didn’t know how serious Dawn was or what she was capable of. I dialed Austin again and was surprised when I heard, “I'm on my way,” she said in a singsong voice. “My lady was running late.”

  “Where are you?” My tone was more demanding than intended.

  “Off Montana. I'll be there in a minute, calm down.” She was relaxed, which had the same effect on me.

  “I've been calling you. Why didn't you answer?”

  “Because I was walking to the car. I had to park in the neighborhood. It's crazy busy over here.” She sounded fine. Normal. She didn't even seem concerned with my questions.

  “I'm here. Waiting on you. Hurry.” Then I added, “But be careful.”

  “I will.”

  Austin

  I should have texted him when they told me my waxer was running late. But he was earlier than he'd said, fifteen minutes earlier. If he had arrived when we'd originally planned, he wouldn't have known I was running late.

  Technically, it's his fault.

  He hadn’t told me what was going on this morning, and I had been sidetracked with the information he was having me watched when I was temping. Whatever it was, he still seemed stressed about it. It also seemed he was insecure about Zach, if the texts I received during his shoot were any indication. I still wasn't sure why, though. Zach wasn't competition for David. No one was. David was perfect for me and a fucking sex god.

  Oh God, those texts were burned into my brain.

  I miss you. You miss me?

  When I didn't respond, I received,

  Don't give Zach a second thought,

  I'll handle him. You just think about your

  husband fingerfucking your ass on our

  wedding night. How he made you come

  so hard you couldn't move.

  How you just offered up that ass and

  pussy like a good girl.

  Ten minutes later, I pulled up next to David's car under the portico.

  “Mrs. Taylor, he's looking for you,” the valet informed me.

  After reading his nametag, I met his eyes. “Thank you for letting me know, Shawn.”

  It was sweet, but this kid didn't know David at all. David was never looking for me. Tracking me, stalking me, lying in wait for me—yes—but never just looking for me.

  “Excuse me, miss.” I heard as I passed the front desk.

  I turned to see a young fresh-faced type of girl looking at me expectantly.

  “Hi, I'm Austin. I'm David's—”

  “Oh, yes. I'm so sorry. I'm new.”

  “That's okay. I'm still new too.” She looked at me oddly but said nothing, so I continued, “What's your name?”

  “Kelly. Kelly Duncan.” She sounded eager to have something she knew how to respond too.

  She was far too innocent for this place or LA in general.

  “I'm sure I'll be seeing you around.” I gave her the best smile I could at the moment, and walked back toward David's office.

  Before I took two full steps, the office door opened, revealing a too serious David. I immediately felt the impact of all that raw energy radiating off him. There was a simmering anger mixed with it, making it more intense. I took a moment, visually devouring my husband’s body. He had already changed clothes, showcasing his muscled thighs in those low-hanging, gray sweats. The thin, white tank clung to his defined stomach and pecs, amplifying his thick traps, strong neck, and chiseled face.

  Damn.

  My view of him shifted, appreciating the reality of my situation. This masterpiece was my husband—who I fucked frequently, who catered to my every need. He was so much more than I ever thought anyone could be. It was like I was seeing him for the first time again, but in a whole new light.

  When my eyes finally met his, his expression was dark. The swells of his shoulders jumped with the clenching of his hands.

  “Mrs. Taylor.” David's tone was brisk, jaw clenching. I felt like I was going to the principal’s office, not my sex god’s office, where we fucked like wild animals.

  “David,” I mimicked his tone.

  It was only a moment before I saw the laughter in his eyes.

  “I need a personal trainer,” I said soberly.

  “I'll train you.” His voice was still all business.

  And I didn't like it. I didn't want to deal with whatever neurosis the events of the morning had stirred up, especially not mine.

  “Can I get personal attention? Really personal attention.” I pushed my chest against his, looking up at him from under my eyelashes.

  “As personal as you can handle,” he growled as his heated, possessive gaze pulled me in.

  “Can I get fucking worked into the deal? Part of my cardio, maybe?”

  He hooked an arm around my waist and pulled me into his office, shutting the door behind us. “We can absolutely work fucking into your workout routine. Long as I'm the trainer and you're the client.”

  “How much do you charge per session?” I breathed as my hands glided up his biceps to his thick shoulders.

  “I think we can work out a trade. How bout, I get to do anything I want to you?” he purred, palming my sex.

  “Fucking and eating this sweet pussy as much as I want should cover it. If not” —his other hand gripped my ass, fingers pushing into my crack— “this sweet ass, should.”

  Oh, fuck.

  I sucked in a sharp breath at his touch, at his words, my clit pulsing hard in his palm. I was sure he could feel it through the thin fabric of my yoga pants.

  I was horny now. I meant to distract him, lighten his mood, not send us both into a mating frenzy.

  “Are we fucking first or working out?” I panted.

  His expression transformed. “Working out.” He huffed out a pleased laugh. “If I fuck you first, I won't get through a workout, sweetheart.”

  Then I noticed David's hand.

  “Take off your rings,” he said as I stared in dismay at his bare finger. “You can't wear 'em while we workout.”

  Oh. Yeah.

  Made me feel a little less hurt.

  Only a little.

  David put me through a hard leg workout; it felt like punishment for something. Maybe for not going to his shoot or for being late or for wearing a cropped tank/sports bra—that he alternately glared at and eye-fucked. To my surprise, he ignored everyone who looked our way, except the few who approached us to congratulate us. I could tell more than one thought it would be short-lived. I didn’t. I had the security of knowing David would stay with me even if we were both miserable. That was the most comforting thing I could imagine, knowing he wouldn't go anywhere no matter how bad things got. That gave me a sense of freedom—freedom to fuck up. Freedom to be as imperfect as I was.

  Once we were done, I started toward the main entrance.

  “Where you going?” His hand closing around my upper arm stopped me.

  I looked at him over my shoulder. “I left my clothes in the car.”

  “They moved our cars. I'll have someone bring it to you.” He pulled me toward the back area of the gym, then behind an alcove and into what looked like a yoga room.

  “Let's stretch.” He shut the door behind us before going over to grab two mats from the rack. He placed them side by side in front of the mirror.

  I knew something was going on, it was obvious he was trying to keep me inside.

  “What was this morning about?”

  “We’ll talk about it when we get home.”

  “David what’s going on?”

  “Have you read the folder I gave you,” he countered, gesturing for me to come over and sit.

  I did, lowering myself clumsily as he sat gracefully.

  “No, why? Are we broke already?” I teased.

  He studied me, his eyebrows pulled together. “You wanna know how much money we have?”

  His brusk t
one caught me off guard. I wasn't wondering about the money, at all.

  He continued when I didn't respond. “Would you please go through that folder?”

  I felt chastised. He was clearly annoyed with my questions, even a teasing one.

  “Give me your hands,” he said with finality, ending any further conversation.

  When I complied, his fingers closed around my wrists, pulling me to him. He manipulated my body. His hands sliding along my muscles, my curves, grazing my breasts, my sex as he stretched me in different positions. Repeatedly. No words, just our heavy breaths and my low moans filling the empty room. Turned out stretching was excellent foreplay. I was flushed with arousal, my breaths shallow.

  Then his body left mine as he stood. He didn't say a word as he scooped me up and carried me through the gym, as if on a mission, getting us several knowing looks. A moment later, he was kicking his office door shut behind us, laying me down on the couch, quickly pulling off my shoes and socks, and tossing them across the room. Strong hands slid along my hips, under my shirt. His fingers tucked inside my yoga pants, pulling them down and off with expertise. A small, grunt noise escaped him as he roughly unhooked my top, yanking it down my arms. His aggression left me breathless, but there was an urgency in his touch I couldn't identify.

  His tank hit the floor as he toed off his shoes.

  “You seem very impatient,” I panted as my core clenched and flooded, taking in the perfectly honed muscles of his broad shoulders, chest, abs, and those savage looking arms. He put Adonis to shame.

  “I'm fucking dying to get inside you.” His voice was a needy guttural rasp as he pushed his sweats down his strong thighs. “Fucking you.” They pooled at his feet and he kicked them off. “With my cock, my fingers, my tongue. I need it. And I haven't been inside that hot little pussy all day.”

  His crude words had my sex quivering. Aching. Pulling my knees up, letting them fall shamelessly open, I reached down.

  His eyes were transfixed as my finger slipped over my drenched cleft. Once. Twice.

  Watching him work out always got me worked up. His muscles straining and flexing, those grunting noises he made. David was a beast. But today I'd been wet and ready before our workout. Now, I was literally dripping. I would've been embarrassed if it wasn't for his fierce expression.

  “More,” he growled, his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed, his muscles tensed as he watched.

  Pushing one finger through, I found my little nub swollen and tender. I stroked it once and my breath rushed out. My nipples hardened as I watched him, watching me, his face savage with lust.

  “More.”

  My chest heaved, from his hungry gaze and harsh demands. Sharp pleasure sparked through me and my stomach trembled. The chemical rush in my brain had me feeling wonton and fearless. My fingers slipped through, separating my folds, giving him a peek inside.

  His lips parted, and I saw the violent rise and fall of his chest. “Inside.”

  His commands were doing crazy things to me, and it looked like my obedience was having the same maddening effect on him. His fists were clenched at his sides, his muscles jumping and twitching.

  I penetrated myself, pushing two finger tips inside, angling my hand so he could watch.

  “Oh, fuck. That's sexy,” he muttered. His expression was perfect agony as he restrained himself, forcing himself to only be a spectator.

  My other hand roamed over my thigh, up my stomach, finally cupping my breast, my thumb sweeping over my nipple with firm strokes. I gasped as pleasure streaked to my clit.

  I fought to stay focused on him, on his reactions as tension built in my core, pounding through me.

  “Yes,” I breathed, shocked by how good it felt, having him watch me, having him dictate how I touched myself.

  “Fuck yourself.” His tone was hard and rough with arousal.

  I groaned as I pushed in deeper, feeling my pussy squeezing my fingers, hot and impatient. I'd only done this once before and mine didn't compare to his skilled digits, but I was so horny I would've done anything he asked. He swallowed thickly, his body strung tight as he watched me work two fingers in and out of sex.

  “Harder,” he demanded. “Make yourself come.”

  Soon my hips were thrusting up as I put on a no holds barred show. I felt drunk from his voice and his stare—hungry and possessive.

  His cock went from swollen to steel as I finger fucked myself to orgasm on his office couch.

  As I shook, he grabbed my hand, pulled it up, then his mouth closed around my fingers, sucking them clean.

  His big frame dropped down over me and I spread my legs wider. Thick forearms caged my shoulders as his hips settled between my thighs. I felt an absurd amount of relief with his weight on me, his body surrounding me. His smell...

  Dear God, even his sweat smelled good.

  His gaze darted over my face as his fingers traced my cheek bones. It was surprisingly tender for what we'd just done. Once his eyes met mine, I knew. My husband was feeling insecure.

  I wasn't sure why, though. But it was there, that was the urgency in his touch I couldn't identify.

  His expression shifted, eyes narrowing in determination.

  “Tell me how much you need my cock,” he demanded hoarsely. Working my hair tie free, his fingers separated the strands, only to fist them, tugging slightly. There was a desperation in his touch that fueled my desire.

  “I crave it, David. I ache for it. Like a fucking addict.” I did crave it. Especially now, when it was hot, thick steel pressing into the crease of my thigh.

  “I'll make it all better, sweet girl.” His lips brushed mine softly. “Want it rough? Wanna feel me inside you tomorrow?” His voice was tender despite what he was asking.

  I nodded, embarrassed by how much I wanted that.

  “Good girl.” His voice was gruff and needy, making my core clench. His hands tightened in my hair, pulling, arching my neck.

  My body melted under his aggression, becoming languid. My hands stroked along the knitted muscles of his ribs, around to his broad back, feeling the fine sheen of sweat.

  His lips brushed over my chin and along my jaw before pulling back. His gaze met mine as he licked his lips, an act so sensual and suggestive I forgot to breathe. It took another second to realize he was tasting my sweat, and from the look on his face he liked it.

  “Please,” I begged quietly, needing him inside me.

  He smirked, a look of smug satisfaction, then with a practiced shift of his hips, unerringly lined up the head of his cock, easily spearing through my wet folds, spreading them wide. A long, low satisfied moan escaped my throat as he filled me with slow explicitness. My hips tilted up, responding, seeking more. His hard length pressed forward again.

  My body rejoiced with his heat inside, satisfying that deep ache, making me feel crazed for more.

  “Feel every inch, Austin. Feel how hard you make me. Feel how much I want you.”

  No one had ever made me feel as wanted as he did. With every touch, every thrust, every demand, I knew he wanted me more than his next breath.

  “Oh, fuck, yes.” My eyes closed, my legs pulled up, framing his ribs as my hands moved to my breasts, squeezing to relieve the deep ache of my hardened nipples.

  “Fuck, I love you.” His voice was strained as he withdrew, then pushed all the way back in.

  My throat tightened with emotion at his tone. Something was different, something had happened today and I didn't want to deal with it.

  I tugged my nipples, distracting myself from the emotional exchange. And hopefully him too.

  His surrendering groan was erotic and raw, letting me know I had succeeded. “Fuck. Yeah, play with your tits... Fuck, that's hot.”

  The sound vibrated through me, sparking something in me, overshadowing the emotions he'd stirred up. I worked my nipples harder, but I couldn't replicate the sensations he created.

  “David, please,” I begged.

  “Hold 'em up for me,” he r
asped, knowing what I wanted. His voice was still too sweet, too loving.

  But I complied, without question.

  With a growl, his warm mouth caught my left nipple, suckling. The gentle, almost sweet stimulation, sent sparks of pleasure arrowing to my clit, my core pulsing around his cock.

  Within seconds, my body was writhing under him. I was exhausted from our workout, but my body didn't care. It wanted every ounce of pleasure David could wring out of it.

  His restraining hands loosened and I looked down, seeing his mouth, then the flash of tongue. Our eyes met and that dark predatory gaze held mine as he moved, switching to my other nipple. Entranced, I watched as he gave it a slow, firm lick before pulling it into his mouth. My clit throbbed as my heart hammered in my chest at the image.

  My moan grew as he suckled my tender flesh eagerly, his rolling hips, working his hard length in and out leisurely.

  Still holding my gaze, he pulled out of me halfway, then slammed back in, forcing a yelp from my throat. His answering groan rattled through his chest, heating my blood.

  Intense dark eyes devoured me as his greedy mouth suckled, he returned to his sweet, slow rhythm, matching the sweet pulls of his mouth.

  I couldn't ignore that something was different. His touch was almost grateful. And something else. I wasn't sure, but his desperate, needy hunger was extremely satisfying.

  “You feel so good,” I breathed.

  He worked my body gently. Until I tensed, my pussy clamped down as violent relief washed through me.

  He groaned around my nipple as his muscles strained and his pace sped up. After a handful of pounding strokes, he stilled, then shuddered as he emptied himself inside me. Letting my nipple go, his forehead pressed to my chest as he breathed harshly. My hands ran over his heated skin, anywhere I could reach.

  “I love you,” I breathed.

  “Fucking love you, Austin,” he swore harshly.

  David