Hate the Player: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy(83)

“Mmhmm. I do.”

“Well, this time, I’m going to be in control,” I whisper and blow a warm breath toward her clit as I reach up to push her hands down so they’re resting at her hips.

She whimpers.

“So, you be a good girl and don’t move your hands,” I tell her, leaning forward to lick my tongue against where she is already wet and throbbing. “And just so you’re clear on what is about to happen, I’m going to drive you fucking crazy.”

She whimpers again. Licks her lips.

“Then when you feel like you’ve had enough, when the pleasure is too intense, I’m going to stop, but only for a brief moment, before I do it all over again. And I’m going to keep that up. I’m going to do every dirty, wild, delicious thing to you until your mind and body explode and you’re begging me to finish you off with my cock.”

“Holy hell,” she half mutters, half moans.

“Happy birthday, Birdie.” I hover my lips over the apex of her thighs, where she is already wet and throbbing.

“My birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” she says through a breathless whisper.

“Exactly.” I smirk up at her. “And this is me getting an early start on the festivities.”

I have quite a few things up my sleeve for Birdie’s birthday tomorrow. Some of which have required assistance from Howie and my family.

But right now, making her come is the utmost priority.

So, I don’t waste any time getting down to business. I get motherfucking started on giving Birdie more pleasure than her hot little body ever knew was possible.

Get ready, firecracker.

Tonight, orgasms.

Tomorrow? Lots of surprises.





Birdie



Ten years ago, when I pictured what twenty-eight would look like for me, it didn’t include my baby sister engaged to Luca freaking Weaver and mere weeks away from giving me a niece or nephew, or me being on location in Memphis to film a Hollywood film in which I had been cast in a starring role.

And it certainly did not include this year’s Hottest Man Alive waking me up by pressing kisses to my bare boobs.

“Good morning, Birdie,” Andrew whispers, his lips brushing across my breasts and making a gentle path up my collarbone until they stop at my lips. “It’s time to wake up, eat some breakfast, and celebrate the glorious day you came into the world.” He presses a kiss to my mouth. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“What time is it?” I blink open my eyes and instantly stare into soft blue.

“A little after seven,” he answers, a handsome smile playing at the corners of his lips. “How does it feel to be another year older?”

“Ask me that question again once I’ve had time to drink some coffee.” I groan, and Andrew chuckles in amusement.

“Well, grumpy, you’re in luck because I have an entire breakfast feast ready for you.”

I sit up in the bed, resting my back on the pillows and headboard behind me, and watch with tired eyes as he walks over to a cart standing at the foot of the bed. It’s covered with a white tablecloth, and resting on top, in an organized display, sits a pot of coffee, glasses, orange juice, cutlery, and a bunch of plates topped with silver domes.

“I hope you brought your birthday appetite.” He flashes a wink in my direction and proceeds to pour some coffee into a mug. He tops it off with my perfect amount of sugar and cream, stirs it for a good fifteen seconds, and then places it in my already outstretched hands.

“Bless you,” I say, my voice still groggy.

Andrew grins over at me while I savor my first delicious and much-needed sip of coffee.

“Ah yes, that hits the spot,” I say through a content sigh and set the coffee down on the nightstand beside me. It’s then that I finally notice he’s already fully dressed for the day. I scrunch up my nose. “What time do you have to be on set?”

“Eight,” he answers and gestures for me to come sit in the chair he’s pulled up to the cart. “C’mon, birthday girl. Grab your coffee. It’s time to eat.”

“How come I got the day off, but you still have to work?” I question as I snag one of his discarded T-shirts from the floor of his hotel room, toss it over my body, and head over to the breakfast feast with my coffee in hand.

“Because I told Howie it was your birthday and he needed to give you the day off.” He pulls out my chair, and I sit down. “And he said the only way he could manage that was if I agreed to come in earlier than originally planned and roll through a few scenes that he had scheduled for next week.”

I look up at him in surprise. “Are you being serious right now?”

“It’s your birthday, Birdie. Everyone deserves to have the day off on their birthday,” he quips. “Especially a workaholic like yourself.”

“I’m not a workaholic.”

“Get real, sweetheart.” He flashes a knowing smirk. “From sunup until sundown, between working on set and fitting in studio time for the soundtrack and your next album, you and I both know your schedule is jam-packed. I’m just thankful you manage to sneak in time every day to let me play with your pussy.”

“Wow. You really say the sweetest things.” I snort. “Seriously, if you keep it up, I just might die from all the swoon.”