Play with Me (With Me in Seattle, #3)(18)

“Will…”

“Shh, it’s okay.”

He spreads my legs and sits there, just looking down at my center, and I suddenly become very shy.

“Turn the light off,” I whisper.

His eyes find mine. His face is tight with lust, his eyes bright, and his jaw ticking from clenching his jaw shut.

“Not a chance,” he growls. “I want to see you. Fuck, Meg, you’re so sexy.”

He settles on his elbows and gently brushes my piercing with his fingertip. It makes my back arch and catch my breath.

“Shit.”

“How long have you had this?” he asks.

“Five years.”

“Why?” he asks and brushes it with his thumb while his fingers slide through my wet lips and I gasp again. “God, you’re so wet.”

“I was in a band, people had piercings, I didn’t want mine to show.” The words come out super-fast because of what he’s doing to me and he chuckles.

“Does it heighten pleasure?” he asks and I swear again as he barely brushes the little bar-bell and it sets my clit on fire.

“What do you think?” Fuck, I can’t stop moving.

“It’s tiny,” he remarks.

“It’s a tiny part of my body,” I remind him ruefully and then squirm again as he brushes it one more time with his finger.

Will kisses my navel, and I push my hands into his hair. He moves down and gently wraps those amazing lips around my clit and metal and I come undone, pushing against his mouth, raising my hips up off the cushion. His hands are cupping my ass, holding me against him and I ride my orgasm, jerking and shuddering, and suddenly his lips move farther down and his tongue is inside me, then licking my labia, and inside me again. It’s a full-on assault Will-style, and it’s the most amazing f*cking thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.

He sinks his tongue inside me again and pulls one hand around to worry my clit some more and I feel another orgasm building.

“Ah, hell, babe, I’m gonna…”

He growls against me and I lose it, this orgasm completely eclipsing the last one, if that’s even possible.

When I surface, Will is nibbling his way back up my body, caressing my skin gently, and then he’s kissing me softly and his fingers are running gently down my face.

“So sweet,” he murmurs against my lips.

I can taste myself on him. I reach for the hem of his shirt again and push my hand under it so I can caress his back, his ribs. He sighs deeply and rests his forehead on mine, eyes closed.

“Your hands feel good,” he whispers.

“So do yours. Take your clothes off.”

He sighs again, kisses my forehead and sits back on his heels.

“I don’t think so.” He shakes his head and then chuckles ruefully while scrubbing his hands over his face. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I think I’d better go.”

What??

He must see the alarm on my face because he chuckles again and kisses me swiftly.

“I’m picking you up for date number two tomorrow at noon.” His eyes take one more leisurely stroll down my naked body and he curses under his breath.

“Okay,” I respond, a bit unsure, and sit up, tug my dress over my head and stand as he also rises from the floor.

“You are incredible.” He cups my face in his hands and leans down to kiss me softly.

I lead him to the front door, punch the code into the alarm system to disarm it and open the door for him.

“Noon tomorrow,” he reminds me, as if I could ever forget.

“It’s a date.” I smile shyly at him.

“Set this alarm when I leave.” He glares down at me, daring me to defy him and I giggle.

“Yes, sir.”





Chapter Seven


“How many times have you been here?” Will asks me as we stand in line waiting to purchase tickets for Seattle’s Experience Music Project Museum. It’s a music museum, and so much more.

I love this place.

“Dozens,” I smile up at him, geez he’s tall and squeeze his hand. “It changes all the time, with new exhibits and stuff. Plus, I could just sit and stare at the guitars for days. Have you ever been?”

“No, I’ve just never taken the time.” He winks down at me. “I’m a rookie.”

“That’s okay, I’ll protect you.”

He smirks and pays for our tickets, and I lead him into the museum.

We wander up to the second floor where the exhibits are and I get lost in Jimi Hendrix, Nirvana, The Stones, the guitar gallery. I point out interesting tid bits of information for Will and drag him from room to room.

I love sharing this with him, and I love how interested he seems. He’s not just tagging along, trying to make me happy.

Best. Date. Ever.

We head up to the third floor and stand and stare at the enormous guitar sculpture. It’s at least fifty feet tall and is made up of real guitars, of all different shapes and sizes and colors. My eyes travel up it, examining the instruments, and I feel Will’s eyes on me.

“What?” I ask without looking at him.

“You look awesome in that outfit.”

“This old thing?” I ask and smirk, still not looking away from the sculpture. I’m in a white v-neck t-shirt with a loose, brown cotton vest over skinny blue jeans.