The Player (The Game Maker #3)(25)

I let one knee fall open.

He ran his other hand up my inner thigh. Higher. He brushed his knuckles along my sensitive skin. Higher. He reached my wet *. “You’re not wearing panties?” he snapped. I thought he’d be delighted—not infuriated. “Which man was to enjoy this surprise? The one you were dancing with earlier?”

“Maybe next time you’ll call me.”

“Maybe I will teach you to want only me.” His half-crazy expression was back. “I am the only one who knows what you need.”

Hadn’t I already suspected he was my key? Apparently, he suspected the same. “Tell me what I need, Dmitri.”

“I’m about to show you.”

“But I want to touch you.” I dipped my hand down.

“Ah-ah.” He seized my wrist, placing my hand on his chest. “This is for you alone.”

“Maybe you think I’ll get so turned on I won’t care if you f*ck me.”

“I want to see you that abandoned.” His voice was low, his eyes hypnotic. “But tonight I’m only touching you, Vika. Submit to my wishes.”

Vika. The endearment of my name. Strike sexy. He was molten. At that moment, I yearned to submit to this man. But a show of resistance was in order. “Why am I always the one feeling vulnerable? I’ve shared more of myself than you have.”

“Share? What if I tell you a secret? Would that suffice?”

“Try me and see.”

In a husky tone, he said, “I jerked off in the limo on the way back from your apartment. I wanted your taste on my tongue when I came again. Two strokes later, I ejaculated into my cupped palm, licking my lips for you.”

A breath shuddered out of my lungs. I repeated his words: “I never want to stop seeing that in my head.”

He might’ve given me a micro-smile, but it faded when he teased my entrance with a fingertip. “Do you want it inside?” Somehow he grew even harder beneath me.

“Yes,” I panted. “Yes. . . .”

He adjusted my body so we faced the same way, my spread legs over his knees, his hands resting on my thighs. “Then raise your arms and clasp your hands behind my neck. Keep them there no matter what I do.”

I had no choice; I obeyed.

“Good girl.” In reward, he sank his middle finger between my soaked lips.

I cried out as my * contracted around it.

He gave a rumbly groan. “Ah, God, you are tight. And so slick for me. You love to come, don’t you?” He rotated his finger inside, stirring me. Then he began to wedge in a second one. “There you go,” he rasped. “Take them for me into your sweet little *. Do you want me to finger-f*ck you? Then take them both deep.”

That dirty talk in his sexy accent made me melt!

With his other hand, he pressed down on my pubic bone and above, which made the fingers inside me feel even bigger. He withdrew them, then thrust. Again. And again. “I would give anything to replace these with my cock.”

My body ached for that hot, swollen rod. Though he hadn’t touched my clit, I already neared the brink. “Dmitri, I need to come!”

He ignored my plea, never increasing his maddening pace. He twisted his fingers as they plunged, then twisted them again as he withdrew.

I marveled at his skill. Even as he gave me more pleasure than I’d ever felt, in the back of my mind, I wondered how I was going to live without this.

As if he’d read my thoughts, he said, “You’re going to have to keep me around just for this. You fingered your * in the shower, but you can’t do this to yourself. You can’t twist and get deep, hitting all these sensitive spots.”

“Make me come, please!” Or f*ck me. I imagined him impaling me on his big, pierced dick.

“I will. Eventually.” He made a beckoning gesture deep inside me.

I shot upright. “Oh! Ohhh. I can’t take much more of this!” I could bring myself off in a nanosecond, was tempted to. Yet I kept my arms back. “I know what I said about sex, but I didn’t mean it! Do you have condoms? I’m on birth control, but we should probably double-up.”

Between breaths, he said, “I’ve never had sex without one, so I can with you.” He wasn’t lying.

“Does that mean we’re going to?” My tone couldn’t have been more eager.

He groaned again. “I would do murder to f*ck you. Think of what I’d do to possess you completely.”

I gasped—because I didn’t think he was lying about that either.

“Which means I must keep my word.”

I panted with frustration. He’d kept me hovering right at the brink for what must be years! “I’m going to come apart!”

“That’s the idea. This is BDSM,” he said at my ear. “Dominance, edging, play. I won’t always whip you.” He withdrew his fingers.

“Nooo! Need those. Put them back in.”

He used two fingers to make a V around my clit, trapping it, pressing the sensitive nub outward.

I undulated over his lap, his cock. “Touch it,” I whispered, “touch it. Baby, please, please touch my throbbing clit.”

With a growling sound, he used his other forefinger to slowly rub the exposed flesh.

My head lolled back against him.