Playing Dirty. Lauren Hawkeye

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Playing Dirty - Lauren  Hawkeye

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muscles. She squeezed a tiny bit, scoring him lightly with her nails as her hands traveled down. Stroking over his stomach, she hooked her fingers in the waist of his suit pants.

      “Mmm.” Her touch brushed over the head of his cock, which was fully erect and caught in the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Yes, I think we very much want the same thing. Unless you’re this happy about something else.”

      “I’ll be happier when you do what you’re told.” Had he really just said that? He’d been raised in Boston society. The women he usually dated would be horrified. He might have even gotten slapped.

      Beth just grinned.

      His stomach muscles quivered when she undid the button at his waistband, then slid the zipper down. The metallic rasp grated at air that was suddenly thick with tension. With need.

      He tugged at his pants, pulling them down around his hips. His cock sprang free, and, going on instinct, he took his shaft in his fist.

      “That’s a good look for you, Sir Lassiter.” Pushing him away from the bed with a gentle shove on his hips, she slid to the floor. Rising to her knees, she rested her palms on the tops of his thighs. “I bet this is a good one for me.”

      Lust centered in his groin, a physical ache. When was the last time he’d had a woman on her knees for the sole purpose of sucking his cock? High school, probably. He enjoyed getting head, but he never demanded that a woman get on her knees for him. It was one of those things he wanted so badly that he didn’t dare let himself ask. That he assumed a woman did only because she wanted to please, not because she got anything out of it.

      Looking down at Beth on her knees, her lips wet and ready, he knew that she was getting just as much out of this as he was.

      Their stares locked as he slid a hand into her hair. Massaging her scalp, he guided her head forward until her lips brushed the head of his cock.

      They both shuddered. Before he could take a breath, her fingers joined his, wrapping around the length of his shaft.

      Her mouth closed around him, a hot, wet embrace. She sucked him in, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head.

      He never let himself play like this, edging onto something shadowy that both tempted and terrified him.

      But it felt so damn good.

      “You’re good at that.” His voice was raw. She looked up at him, and though he couldn’t see a smirk on her lips, it was there in her eyes. He couldn’t help but grin in return. “Of course, sassy as you are, I’m probably not the first to want to keep it occupied.”

      As if he’d challenged her, she slid her hand down his shaft, nudging his fingers out of the way. She worked him up and down with a tight grip as she took him deeper into the silky heaven that was her mouth.

      His free hand joined the one fisted in her hair, and soon he was helping to guide her movements as she worked his shaft. Pleasure started to build at the base of his spine, and his hips started to thrust.

      He needed to stop her before he came in her mouth. Needed to see to her pleasure first. He wanted to make her come before he took her, wanted her weak and wrecked because of what he did to her.

      He wasn’t at all expecting her to cup his balls in one hand and tug gently. Her nails scored a light path over the tender seam, something no one had ever done to him before, and he saw stars.

      “Beth. Beth!” He tried to pull her head back. She hummed around him, the vibration working through his cock, and scraped those nails gently over his seam again. “Oh, fuck.”

      His release shot from his very core. He pulsed into her mouth, and rather than being repelled, she wrapped her lips around him tightly and swallowed him down. He watched the lines of her throat, transfixed.

      Who the hell was this unearthly creature? And where had she been hiding his whole life?

      She continued to lick him as he softened against her tongue, finally letting him slide from her mouth. The air of the room was cool after her heat.

      Panting, he took a moment to simply look down at her, searching her features for some hint of discomfort.

      Instead she grinned up at him, then climbed back up onto the bed. Crawling across it on her hands and knees, she sat back on her heels and looked over her shoulder at him as she undid her bra and tossed it aside.

      “My turn.”

       CHAPTER FIVE

      WHY WOULDN’T HE just let go?

      The man was a caged beast, his dominance rattling the bars. Beth couldn’t understand why, after all the reassurances she’d given him, he seemed to think he still needed to hold back.

      She huffed out a breath of surprise when he caught the bra she’d just tossed aside.

      “Nice reflexes.” She smirked at him, wondering if she was going to have to keep hold of that dark edge of his all night to keep it from sliding back beneath the surface. She exhaled sharply when he lifted the scrap of black lace and let it dangle.

      “I like this.” He tossed it to the floor, then with a move she didn’t see coming, pulled at her feet, making her tumble to the bed. He rolled her so that she was lying across the bed face up, and then he was straddling her hips.

      His cock still hung free, swollen, red and damp from her mouth. Her stare moved between it and the way he was undoing the front of his shirt, each button revealing another inch of rock-solid torso.

      He’d been hiding one hell of a body beneath that suit. Whatever he did for work that required that suit, he countered it with some serious sweat at the gym.

      She wasn’t about to complain.

      His expression was so intense as he looked down at her that she almost—almost—felt the urge to cover her naked breasts. The piercing through her right nipple. She didn’t, though, instead waiting to see what he would do. If she would have to prod him, or if he would let go.

      “Do the bottoms match the top?” With a wicked grin, he worked a hand underneath her, sliding up along the back of her thigh to cup her ass beneath the abbreviated hem of her cutoffs. He squeezed, and she pressed into the sensation of her bare skin in his palm.

      “Doesn’t seem to be much of them, whether they match or not.” He moved his hand around to the front of her hip, then to the crease where her thigh met her torso. He grazed the silky fabric of the thong she’d changed into along with this outfit, and she let out a shaky moan.

      “Lift.” The cutoffs slid down easily when he tugged. Leaving them at midthigh, he sat back on his heels and took his time looking her over.

      “They do match.” He arched an eyebrow, and she felt flushed everywhere his stare traveled—her breasts, her belly, her hips, her thighs. Her center. “I didn’t think they would.”

      “You make it sound like a bad thing.” She wanted to part her thighs, to feel his weight between them, but with the shorts still halfway down her legs, she couldn’t. “You seem like the type to send full

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