Playing for Real - Book 2

Chapter 20

Quinn

I wake up the following day to feel unfamiliar sheets and the smell of Cash clinging to my skin. The bed is a disaster. The sheets are pulled from the mattress and twisted around my body; the pillows are on the floor. I'm pleasantly sore, relishing the familiar ache between my legs, and I have no idea where my clothes are. When our plane touched down in Newfoundland, we were already an embarrassing display of public affection. We couldn't keep our hands or mouths off each other. And by the time Cash's limo driver dropped us off at his home in Thompson, I was practically naked and halfway to an orgasm. 

 We made love all night long.

Over and over again.

A glance at the clock tells me it's just after nine, and I roll over, push the tangled hair from my face and blink into the dim light. The other side of the bed is empty and bears only the telltale indentation of Cash's body. I look up at the sound of footsteps to see him walking toward me, smiling and shirtless, carrying a tray with a pot of tea and two tea cups.

"Morning, Mittens," he says, setting the tray on the bedside table. The mattress dips as he sits next to me. "How are you feeling? Not too sore, are you?" His expression is tender, a playful smile curving the corners of his mouth, and I love having him look at me so intimately. "I wasn't easy on you last night. It's been way too long."

I yawn and revel in my weak legs and sore abdomen. "Last night was perfect. I'm sore in all the right places."

He scratches his jaw, letting his eyes move over my face before dropping to my chest. "The past three months were tough. Especially because I wasn't able to be with you like this. I'm so happy to finally be clean and healthy—away from everything—and ready to start over with you. And, of course, you're amazing tits."

I laugh, and he reaches for a teacup and hands it to me. "Vanilla Rooibos Tea. You're favourite."

"Nope." I shake my head, motioning for him to put it back down. I want both hands free. "You're my favourite."

He grins, slowly brushing his hands through the ends of my hair, smoothing it down my spine. I shiver at the emotion in his eyes, how his fingers set off sparks that settle warm and heavy between my thighs. I reach to touch his bare chest and press my thumb into the groove of his oblique, then down along the flat planes of his stomach and lower. He hisses in a breath when I slip a finger under the waistband of his boxers.

"Come here." I taste his lips, sucking on his tongue, swallowing his sounds. I can feel the hard bulge between his legs against the wetness of my sex. I want to feel him all around me. I reach between us to stroke his cock. "Can we make some time for fun before breakfast? I don't think I'll be able to focus the rest of the day if you deny me."

"Fuck, Quinn," he whispers, sucking on my jaw.

"Is that a yes?"

"Do I have a choice?" He slides his hands over my ass, his hips rocking.

"You don't want to feel me?" I nip at his neck.

"You are a fucking devious girl."

I reach down and move my fingers away from his length, and he takes hold of me, rubbing his length over and around my drenched skin. I groan into his neck. And then I guide him there, holding, waiting for him to move my hips. I shift forward and back again, feeling the subtle give of his body when the head of his cock slides inside. I move deeper, the tiniest bit into him, just until I feel myself stretch around his shaft, and I stop, groaning. "Fast," I say. "Now."

"Yes, ma'am."

I expected to feel full from him, but I was unprepared for how hard, deep, and amazingly right he felt. I'm dizzy from the feel of him, the sensation of his pulse beating all around me, muscles flexing, of his low, hungry sounds in my ear telling me how much he loves me.