Chapter 13 #2
I can feel her breathing hitch as she says, “Yes. That’s, uh, that’s better.”
“Good,” I say. “Can’t have my assistant cold.” I keep my arm around her as I press my chin up against her head, loving how she so easily fits right into the little spoon position, like she was made for me to hold her.
And hell, I know this was my choice, that I thought this was a good idea, but having her this close, feeling her in my arms, I fear that I might be the one who breaks.
But what does breaking even mean?
Because if I graze her boob, is that breaking? Or is that teasing? In my mind, breaking would be a kiss or going full throttle fucking. I think a graze here and a tease there never hurt anyone. That’s all part of the game, part of the strategy, right?
My question is, what’s going to be her move?
Sure, she’s here in my bed, but she can’t possibly just be here. She has to have a move. Any kind of move, something that’s going to?—
She wiggles her ass right against my crotch, getting comfortable.
And yup, there it is.
That’s her fucking move and what a great one.
Because my dick immediately wants more.
My dick wants that to happen again. Multiple times.
“You good?” I slide my hand to her stomach.
“Yes,” she says as her stomach contracts from my touch.
“Good, because I can’t have you uncomfortable.” I move my hand up her stomach to rest just below her breast. “Can’t remember the last time I cuddled with someone,” I say. “And I know I’ve never cuddled with an employee before.”
“Would you consider this cuddling?” she asks. “I thought it would classify under trying to stay warm.”
“Hmm, perhaps,” I say. “But the ass wiggle against my dick, that wasn’t keeping warm, was it?”
“It’s called friction, Levi. We need some to stay warm.”
“Hmm, okay, so then if I were to, I don’t know, graze the underside of your breast like this”—I glide my hand under her heavy breast, causing her to inhale sharply—“that would be friction, right?”
“That, yes, that would be friction.”
“Good to know. Well, I can offer you many types of friction, then. I can use just my thumb.” I drag my thumb over the underside of her breast causing her to lean her head back against my shoulder.
“I can use my whole hand.” I drag the back of my hand under her breast. “Or I can use my palm,” I say as I cup the underside of her breast, wanting so much more than these little teases. “You just let me know what you want.”
I bring my hand back to her stomach, despite wanting to do so much more than that.
If I had it my way, I’d strip her out of her shirt, flip her to her back, and play with her tits until she came, then I’d tuck her into my chest and sleep like that for the rest of the night.
“Which was your favorite?” she asks.
“The thumb drag,” I answer. “Not too much friction, but I enjoyed the way it made your body heat.”
“How do you know I heated?” she asks as she presses her ass against my hardening dick. It’s going to be a long fucking night.
“I could feel it,” I answer as I run my thumb along the sensitive flesh of her breast again.
She lets out a low breath as I graze her back and forth.
“Your entire body stills, and I know in your mind, as your blood boils with need, you don’t just want my thumb playing with your breast, but you want it passing over your nipple. ”
“You think highly of yourself,” she says. “I don’t think a nipple pass is creating that much friction.”
“Friction, no, but will it skyrocket the heat level in your body?” I lean in close to her ear. “You’ll be a fucking inferno.” Then just to test her, I run my thumb just below her nipple, so close that I nearly groan.
“Fuck,” she whispers as she tenses.
And I wait.
I wait for her to snap. For her to flip to her back, wrap her hand around the back of my neck, and pull me in for a kiss.
But when she doesn’t move, when she doesn’t do anything but rest against my chest, I realize that I’m going to have to do a hell of a lot more to get her to crack.
I’m impressed. I thought this would have done it.
Maybe . . .
Pulling on my bottom lip, I decide to try one more thing.
I slip my fingers under the hem of her shirt. I pause for a moment, wanting to make sure she’s okay with this. When she doesn’t say anything, I slip my entire hand under her shirt, letting my palm rest on her soft yet heated skin. There’s no way in hell she’s cold anymore.
“Now if you’re still cold,” I say quietly, “I can try doing some skin on skin.” I drag her shirt up so it’s just under her breasts, and I bring her bare back against my chest.
She’s silent for a second before bringing her hand to her shirt. She sits up momentarily before dragging her shirt over her head and dropping it on the floor.
Holy.
Fuck.
She leans her back against my chest and says, “You’re right, skin on skin really does make me warmer.”
Now it’s my time to pause.
To assess.
To tell myself to breathe and not freak out.
Not twist her to her back and take her tit into my mouth.
Have control, man.
Keep steady, don’t fucking lose grip now.
But fuck, her skin is so soft.
So warm.
“Levi?”
“Hmm?” I ask as my palm presses against her stomach, bringing her in even closer.
“You’re really hard.” She rubs her ass against my erection.
“I know,” I say.
“Do you need to take care of that?”
Yes, if you could sit on it and bounce up and down while I stare at your delicious body, that would be amazing, thanks.
“I’m good unless it makes you uncomfortable.”
“No,” she says softly. “I think it’s hot.” She twists just enough so she’s looking back at me. “Incredibly hot.”
And then she stays there, staring up at me.
I stare down at her.
My hand perched on her stomach, her bare breasts inches from my hand.
Her tongue peeks out and wets her lips.
I inwardly groan as I wet my lips as well.
And when neither one of us makes a move, neither one of us breaks for the kiss, feeling desperate for this to end, I let my thumb caress her bare breast.
Her eyes squeeze shut, so I do it again.
She twists just a touch more, and I curse that she’s under the blankets covering her up.
When her eyes fall to my mouth, I push it a bit farther, then move my thumb just a little higher and stroke the underside of her hard nipples. I need this to be over.
“Fuck,” she groans as I hold my breath, waiting for her to snap.
When she doesn’t move, I do it again.
And again.
And fucking again, but she leans into it.
She pants.
Her chest fucking heaves, but she doesn’t crack.
Instead, her teeth pull on her bottom lip as her hand moves between us and, to my surprise, presses against my cock.
Mother of fuck.
My eyes roll to the back of my head, a groan on the tip of my tongue.
With her palm flat on my length, I shift my pelvis into her hand where she squeezes me just enough to nearly make me choke on my own saliva.
And that’s when I feel it, my will slipping.
My focus draining.
My mission failing.
Because I want more.
I want her to make me lose control.
I want to get lost in her.
I want to straddle her and play.
Play with her chest.
Her mouth.
Between her legs.
Fuck, I want this so bad.
I want it so bad, that my legs quiver, my cock swells, and I lose control.
I let out a deep breath, ready to take what I want just as I feel her slip out of the bed.
Nooooo . . .
With one arm, she covers her breasts as my cock pulses under the sheets. She stares down at me and says, “I’m warm now. Thank you, Mr. Posey .” And then she grabs her tank top from the ground and goes back to her cot.
My cock is throbbing with the need of release. . .while failure consumes me.
How did that not break her?
Because it sure as fuck broke me.
“You’re eager to get back to your hotel room,” Eli says as I jam my finger against the floor number.
“I’m not eager,” I say even though I’m really fucking eager.
After a horrid loss tonight against a team we should have easily beat, everyone is pretty much on edge. Including myself.
I went to bed last night in so much fucking pain from no release that I woke up this morning hard as a goddamn stone.
Thankfully, Wylie wasn’t awake yet, so I nearly sprinted to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stroked myself for a measly twenty fucking seconds before coming all over the shower tile.
Yeah, twenty seconds.
Fucking pathetic.
And my mind was so fucked from the night before that I felt like my head wasn’t in the game today. Although, none of us played well so thank fuck it wasn’t only me. And now that the game is over, I have one thing on my mind—breaking Wylie so we can end this fucking torture.
A smart person might say, hey, why don’t you just break it yourself. End your own misery, but that would mean that she would win. Losing is not an option . Not when we’ve come this far.
No fucking way.
“You seem very eager,” Eli says. “You sprinted off the bus.”
“Sprinting is a bit of an exaggeration. And if I was sprinting, how the hell did we end up sharing an elevator?”
“Because I was sprinting too.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re really fucking annoying, you realize that?”
“You’re calling me annoying? You’re the most annoying person I know. The most annoying person the entire team knows.”
“I beg to differ. You all obviously don’t know how to look in the mirror.”
“Denial is an ugly thing, Posey,” Eli says in a scoff.
“Which is why you shouldn’t be denying the fact that you’re annoying.” I pat him on the cheek. “That pretty boy face is going to turn into an ogre expression. Might even grow a single black hair on the tip of your nose.”
Eli’s expression falls flat. “My case in point.”
“That’s not annoying. That’s just stating facts.”
The elevator doors part open and I bolt out of the elevator and down the hall.
“Some might think you have a girl in your room,” Eli calls out, but I just ignore him as I reach my room, open it with the key card, and then let myself in, only to find the room blistering hot.
“Jesus fuck,” I say. “It’s hot in here.”