Play with Me (With Me in Seattle, #3)(22)

“The code is 051877. Can you remember that?”

“Oh, so you’re speaking to me,” I mutter sarcastically.

He just looks over at me expectantly until I huff and say, “051877.”

The gate opens and Will drives us down to a beautiful home that has an unbelievable view of the Puget Sound. From what I can see in the semi-darkness, the house is a traditional-style stone house, two stories, with a four car garage.

“Wow. This is beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he mutters and pulls the car into a garage, parks and cuts the engine. He unbuckles both of our belts and looks over at me, just stares at me for a long minute.

“What is it?” I whisper.

“I want you.”

“I sort of figured that out, babe.” I offer him a smile, but he doesn’t return it. Maybe this is an invitation without actually asking me, to make good on what I said in the stadium?

“Are you wearing underwear?” I ask him.

He laughs ruefully – finally! – and shakes his head. “Of course. Most people do, Meg.”

“Tilt your seat back,” I tell him. He holds my gaze and does as I ask. I kick off my shoes and pull my legs under me in the seat, settling my butt on my heels. Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I lean in and kiss him hard and deep, earning a growl from deep in his throat. I reach down and unbutton and unzip his jeans and he helps me by raising his hips and shimmying his pants and really sexy white boxer briefs down his hips, letting his heavy, long, thick erection spring free.

Jesus H. Christ, the man is hung! Given his height, this shouldn’t surprise me in the least, but it does intimidate me. I bite my lip and look into his gorgeous blue eyes uncertainly.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asks me and runs his knuckles down my cheek.

“When we do finally get to have sex, I’m not sure…” I can’t complete the sentence and he chuckles.

“You’ll stretch, Meg.” His eyes are warm and happy, and he pulls me in for another long, slow kiss. I reach down and stroke him, loving the velvet-soft skin, the feel of the veins, and the smooth, round tip.

“Goddamn, honey.” He throws his head back and sucks in a deep breath. “Your hands should come with a warning label.”

I grin and lick the head of his cock, right across the top, lapping up the little bead of dew that already formed there. His hips buck up off the seat and I decide I’ve played nice long enough.

I want to drive him f*cking mad.

I lick him from his balls to the tip, and then back down again, and then, cupping his scrotum in one hand, I sink down on him and suck.

“Holy, f*ck!” He sinks his hands in my hair and gently starts to guide me up and down his hardness. I suck and lick, and suck and lick some more with each movement and continue the torture with my hands. I feel his balls tighten in my right hand, and I know it won’t be long before he loses control.

So I sink down on him as far as I can, until I feel him deep in my throat, and slip my finger down past his scrotum to that sensitive skin just underneath and I rub gently, making him crazy.

“Megan, I’m going to come.”

I hum in pleasure, but I feel him holding back, so I repeat the motions, move my mouth up and down his shaft, and rub that little spot below his scrotum.

“Ah, f*ck!” Will comes violently, shoots his warmth into the back of my mouth and I swallow quickly. I continue to lick and tease him as droplets continue to flow out of his slit, and I smile as his body goes lax.

I look up into his deep blue eyes and offer him a shy grin. “Was that okay?”

“Sweetheart, if that had been any more okay, I would have died.”

I laugh as he tucks himself back in, and then he leans over and kisses me hard and fast.

“Stay with me tonight.”

Yes!

“Not for sex,” he continues. “Although I’m about to kill someone if I don’t get inside you soon. I just don’t want to be without you tonight. You can stay in my spare room if you want.”

“Can I sleep with you?”

“If you wear one of my shirts, yes.”

“Deal.”





Chapter Eight


I wake with a start, sitting up in bed, disoriented. I’m swimming in a huge football jersey and boy boxer-briefs, which immediately throws me off. I take in the large room, bathed in moonlight, and remember I’m in Will’s room.

In Will’s bed.

The sexy man is sleeping soundly next to me, on his side, facing me. His handsome face is relaxed in sleep and there is stubble starting to grow on his firm, square chin. His hair is messier than usual, begging my fingers to run through it.

So I do.

He’s also in a t-shirt and pajama pants, and when he brought me here, to his beautifully decorated bedroom, and bed the size of a small country, he’d been tender and sweet and the perfect gentleman.

I love it and I hate it.

I’m ready to give my body to him. Hell, I think I’ve already given him my heart, and that scares the hell out of me.

I lie like this for a long while, gently brushing his soft almost-brown hair with my fingers, memorizing his sleeping face. He shifts slightly and reaches up to take my hand in his, kisses my hand, and without opening his eyes, pulls me against his chest, wraps his arms around me and holds me close.