The Player (The Game Maker #3)(13)

He wasn’t . . . he wasn’t lying?

I found myself unzipping the side of my dress. I drew it off, leaving only my bra, thong, and heels.

“Victoria,” he growled. He dipped his gaze, then checked out my front in the mirror. “The treasures you’ve been hiding, woman.” His control seemed to be slipping.

So what would happen if he lost it?

He ghosted his fingertips down my back, drawing a tremor. “Your back is sensitive?”

I’d never known. What was this guy doing to me? He continued down, fingers brushing over my ass. Without thinking, I raised it to follow his touch.

“Responsive.”

He was making me sound like some kind of wanton sexpot; I wasn’t. Not normally.

What if this man had the key? The key to me?

He bent to one knee, his hands roving over my legs, as if my body was a prize and he intended to worship every inch of it. He massaged my thighs, kissing the sides of them. On his way back to his feet, he pressed his lips to one cheek, then the other.

In the mirror, I watched my fight to keep my eyes open—

He nipped me with his teeth!

I squealed, but I kind of liked it.

Then he kissed his way up my back. “I will never get enough of this body.” As he nuzzled my ear, he unsnapped my bra.

I caught it against my breasts, surprised by how swollen they’d become. “I don’t know about wearing only a thong while you’re still dressed.” Honey traps tantalized. They didn’t roll over at the mark’s every whim.

Instead of ordering me to let my bra go, he piled up my hair and traced his lips across my nape, drawing a shiver from me. His heated breaths and firm lips undermined my resistance. His reaction to the rest of my body had been so thrilling. With each of his touches, I yearned to show this strange man more, to jut my aching tits and raise my ass for him.

“Victoria, you must show me all your treasures while I’ve still enough control to enjoy them fully.” He turned me to face him.

I let his spell take me over. I dropped the bra.

He didn’t glance down. Not yet. He gave my mouth a brief kiss—praise?—then he lowered his gaze.

His response was worth my flush of embarrassment. He closed his eyes tight, then opened them, as if he’d expected me—or my tits—to disappear. In a gravelly voice, he said, “You have the most exquisite breasts I’ve ever seen.” He stared at them with lust, but also with an eager curiosity, as if he’d been dying to know what I looked like beneath my clothes.

Without warning, he lifted me up on the marble counter, easing his hips between my knees. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he reached for my chest with both hands. . . .

Contact.

A breath shuddered out of his lungs; I moaned, arching into his palms.

“I could come in my pants just from the feel of you.” His huge dick strained against the material to get free.

I reached for it, needing to fondle him, to learn what made him groan—

“Ah-ah. Not yet. Hands on the counter.”

When I reluctantly obeyed, he circled one puckered nipple with a forefinger. Again. And again. Never varying his maddening speed.

My clit began to throb along with my nipples. I whispered, “Oh, my God.” When my head lolled, he cupped my nape, holding me steady. “Dmitri . . .” This was something like, like adoration.

He placed his other hand on my back, forcing me to arch even more to him. He bent to rub the side of his face against my chest.

I felt his low, guttural groan. Panting, I watched him nuzzle my breasts, looking as if he’d lost himself.

His hot exhalations whispered across one nipple, then . . . his tongue.

“Oh, yes!” I threaded my fingers into his thick black hair, gripping his head. I heard myself repeatedly whispering his name.

“You like what I do to you.” I could have sworn he was grinning against my breast.

I wanted to see his grin! The thought vanished when he sucked the peak between his lips.

I was levitating! His mouth was so hot, his tongue strong as he teased my nipple. A graze of teeth made me whimper.

Then he lavished the same care on my other breast. Could I come from this?

When he suckled with hungry pulls, my eyes flashed wide, then slid closed. Sounds bombarded me. The music from the penthouse. My desperate moans. His blissed-out groans. The wet suction of his mouth . . .

Too soon, he drew back. “Pull your panties aside.”

Between breaths, I asked, “Why am I the only one baring it all?” I’d had a half Brazilian, leaving a small thatch of hair on my mons. Would he like that?

He arched a brow. “You want me to have skin in the game?”

Wordplay? Ah, delicious!

“Perhaps you’ll like being naked next to a fully dressed man.”

The idea felt wicked; I’d be so vulnerable to him. Could I really do this with someone I’d just met?

“Show me how wet you are, Victoria.”

I swallowed with nervousness, but I did tug aside my thong. Cool air hit my lips.

Grating something harsh in Russian, he stared at my * like it was a revelation, the highlight of his entire life. His riveted gaze made me tremble. With his brows drawn, he tenderly caressed the backs of his fingers over my lips. “Beautiful girl. You’re f*cking mouthwatering.”

Beautiful. Mouthwatering.