The Player and the Pixie (Rugby #2)

by Penny Reid

  The hotel wasn’t too far from the restaurant. I walked, checking my phone at every corner for a message from Lucy. It didn’t buzz with a text until I’d walked into the hotel lobby.

  Lucy: A great memory? Really?

  Sean: Yes. Really. His memory is faultless. Pristine. Immaculate.

  Lucy: That’s a shitty compliment. That’s like telling a person they don’t smell.

  Is it odd that this made me laugh? I took gleeful satisfaction in the book-report nature of my compliment.

  Ronan is a man. He has very brown hair, and very brown eyes, and a very good memory.

  Sean: No specification was made as to the quality of the compliment, only that one was required.

  Lucy: You’re a filthy cheat. Dinner is over. I’ll be there in an hour.

  Sean: Why an hour? Come over now.

  Lucy: I need to pick up a change of clothes if I’ll be out all night.

  I frowned at my screen, then at the surrounding opulence of the lobby. I hadn’t been at liberty to touch her as I’d wanted in over two days. I had plans that couldn’t wait an hour. They involved her bending over the lounge chair in my suite and me grabbing handfuls of her arse as I slid into her hot, wet pussy.

  She would cry out in ecstasy, of course. And come several times. And beg for the repeated pleasure. And spend the night. And we would talk. And I would hold her while we slept. And she’d stay for breakfast.

  A shop front in the lobby caught my eye, just closing for the evening. Rather, a nightgown in the window caught my eye. I crossed to the shop as I tapped out my next message.

  Sean: I have a change of clothes for you. Don’t go home first.

  Lucy: Please do not tell me you bought me clothes.

  Sean: I didn’t buy you clothes.

  Technically, this was true. I hadn’t yet purchased her clothes.

  Issuing instructions to the first salesperson I encountered, I picked out three sets of lingerie, a ridiculous nightgown—more a suggestion of a nightgown than anything else as it was see-through and silk—and I allowed the clerk to select proper clothes. I had no interest in those. While she did so, I eyed the jewelry case.

  And here’s where I ran into a predicament. I saw a necklace and it reminded me of Lucy. A yin and yang pendant on a long platinum chain, set with black diamonds for the yin and white diamonds for the yang. I walked away from it, perplexed by the impulse to buy it for her.

  The clothes made sense. She obviously needed clothes, so I could remove them from her body.

  The stunning necklace did not make sense. Frivolous, an item for her with no benefit whatsoever for me.

  And yet . . .

  I imagined her opening it. I imagined how pleased she’d be, how she’d want to wear it straight away, how it might remind her of me in the future.

  “Sir? Will there be anything else?”

  The clerk’s soft voice came from just behind me. Meanwhile, my phone continued to vibrate in my hand. Scanning the screen, I read Lucy’s most recent messages.

  Lucy: If you didn’t buy me clothes then how do you have a change of clothes for me?

  Lucy: What are you doing?

  Lucy: EARTH TO SEAN!

  Lucy: You’re buying the clothes right now, aren’t you?

  Lucy: If you buy me clothes to wear tomorrow then you have to let me buy you clothes, and I’ll bring over an orange Speedo and Birkenstocks.

  My sudden burst of laughter surprised me. I loved her humor.

  “Sir?” the saleswoman prompted again.

  “The black and white diamond pendant,” I said, smiling as I reread Lucy’s messages; I glanced over my shoulder at the woman. “I’ll take it as well.”

  ***

  Once upstairs, I ordered champagne from room service and had a shower to wash off the day. I also beat off, needing some release from the perpetual case of Lucy Fitzpatrick-inspired blue balls. It didn’t help much.

  But she would be here soon.

  My attention caught on the small box I’d placed on the nightstand next to the bed. Originally, I’d left it on the bar. Then I’d moved it to the table in the sitting area. After trying out the desk in the bedroom, the counter in the bathroom, and the center of the bed, I’d settled on the nightstand.

  I was just about to relocate it back to the table in the sitting area when I heard her knock sound from the hallway. Smirking at her refusal to use the key, I jogged to the door and opened it.

  “You didn’t answer my text messages,” she accused, leaning against the doorframe, still dressed in the clothes she’d worn at dinner. These were the same clothes I’d almost successfully breached in the loo at Tom’s little restaurant. I might not have liked Tom, but I would always have fond memories of a certain bathroom stall on the premises.

  “I was busy,” I said, sounding oddly out of breath to my own ears.

  Her attention lowered to my chest, eyebrows lifting. “And you’re in a towel.”

  “Yes. Let’s fix that.” I reached for her without further preamble. She came to me willingly, didn’t protest when I brought my mouth to hers, pressed the length of her against me, and kicked the door shut.

  Lucy was pliant and tasted sweet, so unbelievably delicious. I groaned when her tongue slid along mine, an acute hunger I’d been endeavoring to discount raged unchecked. The flimsy top she wore frustrated my need for her skin. I reached under the hem and smoothed my hands up her sides to her ribs. Satisfaction came in the form of her whimpers when I lifted her bra, bent my head to her nipple, and sucked on her through the fabric of her shirt.

  “Sean . . .” she panted, her nails digging into the back of my head, holding me to her chest. “Ah, wait. Wait a minute.”

  She was here, beneath my fingers, mine for the night. All my earlier plans were eclipsed by the reality of her and my ferocious need to make her feel good.

  “Would you like me to go down on you first?” I blew on the wet patch of her shirt, an instinctive growl reverberating through my chest as I watched the nipple strain and pebble.

  I wanted to devour her.

  “Oh, well, if you insist . . .” she squeaked, her pelvis tilting against my leg even as we stumbled backward toward the living room.

  I popped open her jeans button, savoring the succulent sweetness of her mouth, pushing my hand into her knickers, greedy to feel the wet slickness between her thighs, and growling once more when I found her ready.

  She sighed, rolling her hips as I stroked her with my middle finger. So luscious. So soft. So hot.

  “Or do you want my cock first?” I whispered. “Should I make love to you from behind? Shall I bend you over? Do you want to kneel as I enter you? Would that make you feel good?”

  “Christ, Sean,” she gasped against my mouth, holding my wrist in place as I slid my finger around her clit, keeping my touch teasing and gentle. “Have you been taking lessons from someone else?”

  She meant it as a joke, I was certain.

  But it angered me.

  Tension pulsed through my veins and my arm constricted around her waist. The movements of my fingers ceased. I waited until she opened her eyes, at first foggy with lust, then focused on me, before responding.

  “No, Lucy. There is only you.” My anger seeped through the words. I watched as she swallowed and blinked.

  “Sean, I—”

  “Only you. Only me.” I didn’t comprehend the impulse, but I needed her to understand, to know. I thought of no one else.

  Lucy swallowed. Her eyes were wide and rimmed with determination, an acceptance that heightened, rather than eased, my frustration.

  “Only tonight,” she whispered, making me frown even as her hand came to my jaw and guided my mouth to hers. She brushed a soft kiss over my lips.

  Not enough.

  I deepened it, chasing her mouth as she smoothed her hand over my shoulder, scratching her nails down my chest and stomach, dipping her fingertips into the towel wrapped at my waist.

  I needed more of her skin,
so I allowed our bodies to separate just long enough to discard her shirt and bra, for her to step out of her jeans and sandals and lacy knickers. Sampling bites, savoring her neck, the side of her breast, I maneuvered her against the wall as I lowered to my knees on the plush carpet. I held her body in place and my mouth watered at the promise of her taste.

  “You’re kneeling, Sean,” she whispered, her voice unsteady yet laced with teasing; a playful reminder of the last time I made her come.

  I lifted my eyes to hers, skimming my fingers up the back of her legs and drawing circles on the backs of her knees.

  “I’ll beg,” I said, clearly senseless with my need to make her come, though I meant it.

  I would beg if she required it.

  My frankness was rewarded straightaway. “What are you doing to me?” she asked, dazed. Her stare moved over my face, helpless hunger making her eyes glow. Her legs trembled beneath my fingertips.

  “Please, Lucy . . .” Holding her gaze, I separated her with my thumbs and deliberately leaned forward, gently traced the warm flesh of her slit with my tongue. Always gently. “Please let me taste you. Please let me make you feel good.”

  “Damn, damn, damn . . .” She pushed her hips forward, widening her stance, her head falling back against the wall.

  Her legs flexed as I devoured her, and I followed the indentations and curves of her muscles with my fingertips to the silky smoothness between her thighs. As I traced, I catalogued her skin, discovering and memorizing her most sensitive places.

  I knew when she grew restless, tired of my teasing touches and the light flicks of my tongue. I fed her hunger, easing two fingers into her body and licking a path from the apex of her thighs to her clit, sucking the bead between my lips.

  She came with an abrupt, sharp cry, her body clenching, her hips rocking over my mouth, her fingers twisting in my short hair.

  I needed this. I needed the sounds of her pleasure, the artless spontaneity of her release.

  And I needed her to do it again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  @EilishCassidy to @SeanCassinova Where are you? #CrankyAuntWantsToKnow

  @SeanCassinova to @EilishCassidy Someplace I never want to leave. #Heaven

  *Sean*

  I tugged lightly and she tumbled forward, unable to support her own weight. I captured her, gathered her close in my arms. She grasped me weakly, her head resting against my shoulder as I listened to her shuddering breaths, felt her body trembling.

  Accomplishment. And . . . pride. A deep, thorough satisfaction spread like wildfire through my veins, warming me from the inside as she snuggled closer, gripped me tighter, sighed the sigh of replete contentment.

  “A plus plus,” she murmured against my neck, placing a kiss there.

  I lifted an eyebrow, loving the friction of her soft skin as she moved. “Pardon?”

  “You get an A double plus in cunnilingus, Sean. You’ve graduated.”

  I smiled to myself, because though I didn’t require additional verbal verification beyond her panting groans and cries of pleasure, I enjoyed her candor.

  “Good.” I kissed her temple and sought her hand. I kissed her knuckles one at a time. Then I searched for something else to kiss and decided on her neck since it was closest.

  Her head lolled to the side, allowing me greater access. “Seriously. Gold star. Your parents will be so proud at the end of term.”

  I chuckled, understanding and appreciating the joke even though my familial history made it more perverse than funny. Pushing thoughts of my parentage away, I fondled her breast, massaging it, loving the weight and feel of it beneath my palm.

  “Oh, Christ. You’re not done, are you?” She groaned, though it was a happy groan, spiced with excitement.

  “Not by half.” I tasted the skin of her neck, looking for a spot that made her squirm, and found it just below her ear.

  Her breath hitched. “Is this where I’m supposed to kneel for you?”

  Yes.

  I concentrated my efforts on the spot I’d discovered because the thought of her kneeling for me sent all my blood racing southward. I nipped at her earlobe, brushing my thumb back and forth over her nipple, forcing myself to go slow.

  I needed to be mindful, especially when she made me mindless.

  “That depends,” I whispered. “Do you want to kneel?”

  She nodded lazily. Her nails carved half-moons into my shoulders as she arched against me, offering more of her neck.

  “Will you beg?”

  She nodded more vehemently, rubbing her thighs together restlessly. I slid my hand down her ribs—counting them on the way—and grabbed a handful of her gorgeous, round arse.

  “Will you say please?” I swirled my tongue into her earlobe and she shivered. I made note of the reaction.

  My Lucy had sensitive ears. Good to know.

  “Please.” The single word was choked, pitched high, and pleading.

  I grinned. If this exchange were any indication, being mindful was its own reward.

  “Please what, lovely Lucy?” Bringing her clawing hand to the towel over my cock, I encouraged her to stroke me through the cloth.

  Just there.

  “Please fuck me, Sean.”

  “How?”

  “Please take me from behind.”

  I stopped kissing her and stilled her hand. Gritting my teeth, I thought about doing two hundred squats. I wanted her to beg—because the dirty words from her sweet mouth, in her sweet voice were maddening and sexy as fuck—but I was quickly losing control.

  When I was certain crisis had been averted, I cleared my throat and straightened from the floor, on my knees before her, discarding my towel as I moved. Her fingers immediately encircled my length and she knelt as well.

  “Please.” She stretched to place a hungry, biting kiss on my neck, her breasts brushing my chest.

  I bowed away from her touch and turned her around, thoughts of two hundred squats not far from my mind as I cupped her bottom and whispered in her ear, “And?”

  She faltered, glancing over her shoulder at me with wide eyes. “A-and?”

  I smoothed my fingers from her hip to her pussy and stroked, growling when I found her still wet from my earlier efforts and her arousal. Her breath hitched and she pressed her back against my chest, widened her legs. My touch was a light caress on the sensitive flesh. I savored the slick, swollen feel of her. When I licked my lips I tasted her there.

  “Tell me what you want me to do.” I whispered rather than spoke, for no reason I could discern. “And beg me to do it.”

  “Please,” she panted, chasing my mouth.

  I leaned away, placing my hand on her back and guiding her forward until she was on her hands and knees.

  “Please what?”

  Her body tense, a straining, beautiful, aching thing. She pressed back, rubbing her bottom against my groin.

  “Please fuck me already.”

  Reaching for the condom on the side table, I fisted myself as I rolled it on, barely resisting the urge to thrust forward, and placed my other hand on her hip, holding her in place.

  Fuck. Lucy wet. Hot. Wanting me. Wait. Control yourself. Control.

  And I did. I controlled my body and my voice, asking, “Shall I take you now?”

  “God, yes.” Lucy arched her back and spread her legs wider, offering herself and shooting daggers at me over her shoulder. “You’re dirty talk is great, Sean. But seriously, can you just get a move on?”

  I grinned at her, my fingers flexing on her hip. “You’re hungry?”

  “Starving.” Her eyes narrowed.

  “You’re sure?” I teased her entrance with the head of my cock.

  “Stop the chit-chat, Cassidy. Put the penis in the vagina and let’s get this dinner train rolling.”

  I barked a laugh and without further discussion, I gripped her hips and thrust forward, sliding into her slick warmth. She gasped, pushing backward, tossing her rainbow hair to one side.


  I rocked within her, keeping my movements slow and deliberate, partly to prolong the moment and partly because I suspected Lucy preferred a soft touch.

  However, to my surprise, after several moments, her hips rocked restlessly, as though searching. A grunt of dissatisfaction met my ears just before she ordered, “Harder. Faster. Dirtier.”

  “Pardon?”

  She wiggled her bottom. “I said harder. Fuck me harder. Pull my hair. Slap my arse. Touch my clit. Do something.”

  Sparks fired at the base of my spine at her words. I reached around, finding her clit and traced it. Bending forward, I bit her back and side, thrusting faster.

  Soon the sounds of sex, primitive mating, the rough slapping of skin, paired with her whimpering moans, filled the room. We were both covered in a sheen of sweat. I was mesmerized by the sight of her: the expanse of soft, damp skin, the round curve of her perfect backside.

  “Say something now,” she begged, pulling me from my meditation on her body. “Tell me I’ve been bad.”

  “You’ve been very bad.” I tapped her clit, keeping the touch there light while I pounded into her. “I’ll have to punish you.”

  She moaned. “What will you do?”

  I hesitated, having not thought that far ahead and not feeling particularly creative, trying to keep my orgasm at bay while feeding hers.

  “I’ll make you strip for me,” I blurted a secret desire, and was rewarded with another moan.

  “Yes . . .”

  “And I’ll touch you, however I please.”

  “Fuck, yesss . . .”

  “Then you’ll kneel in front of me, and suck my cock.”

  “Oh God.”

  “And touch yourself.”

  Lucy pushed back, her toes pointing, legs flexing, hips rolling with jerky movements. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  And I felt it. I felt her come while buried inside her sweet, perfect body. Elation was eclipsed only by the wildness of my own need. Three more quick thrusts had me seeing stars and calling her name and making all nature of promises as her body clenched in spasm around me.

  It was an unreal, potent pleasure. As I came down from the high, my face pressed to her back between her shoulder blades, I couldn’t help thinking about the next time I would get my fix.