Dirty Player: A Rough Riders Novel (15 page)

He was still asleep, lying on his back with one hand thrown over his eyes to block out the sunlight from the blinds he hadn’t shut the night before.

Not that there’d been time. He’d done everything to me he promised he would, ravaged me until I was listless. He wrung so many orgasms from me that I lost count. My abs hurt when I pushed myself up to an elbow to get a better look at him.

The last time I’d spent the night with him, he’d woken and left the house before I was awake, so I hadn’t gotten to see him like this.

He slept with his lips slightly parted; the dark blond stubble on his cheeks was short but thick and coarse. When he’d scratched his face against my thighs the night before, multiple times, seemingly unable to get enough of me in his mouth, that hair had done wicked things to my senses.

Oliver Powell didn’t go down on me like it was a job or a duty, but like it was his destiny to be between my thighs.

I took in the long lines of his body hidden beneath the thin white sheet and smiled as my gaze trailed his length. One leg was straight, the other bent to the side and exposed. One arm was set across his abdomen, almost cupping his morning erection tenting the sheets, covering what was quickly becoming my most favorite part of him.

Not that his body wasn’t firm and defined and tanned and absolutely perfect, but the things he could do with his cock would give me memories to masturbate to for the rest of my life.

“If you’re going to keep staring at my dick, you might as well get a closer look.” He dropped his hand from his eyes and turned to me with that surly, bossy smirk of his. His eyes were open into slits, almost challenging me.

Morning sex had never been a thing for me. There was the smell of sleep clinging to skin and morning breath in mouths. As delicious as the thought was, to wake up and suck him hard and deep into my mouth, my lips twisted.

“The thought disgusts you? After last night I didn’t think there was anything you wouldn’t do.”

His statement was a challenge, a dare, but not quite the command that turned me on so much.

I gave him honesty, because this would never work between us if we began hiding things. “Morning sex doesn’t do it for me. Sort of grosses me out.”

“Oh God,” he groaned and rolled to his side to face me. He grinned as his hands went to my hair—always tangling in my curls like he couldn’t be close and not touch me. A shiver of awareness rolled down my spine. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who cares about morning breath and shit.”

The face I must have made was my answer.

He rolled his eyes and then pushed himself to sitting, groaning as he moved.

I was sore from sex, but the bruises forming on his sides told me the groan was one of pain.

“You okay?” I asked and sat up, following him. 

He dropped his head to his hands and let out another pained grunt. 

I reached for him before I could stop myself, dragging one fingernail down the ridged bumps of his spine, careful to avoid the bruising. “You didn’t get much time to rest your body last night.”

He glared at me over his shoulder, eyes darkening with memories of what we’d done, what he’d done to me. “It was worth it. Today’s practice is no pads and only a few hours. I’ll be fine by Monday.” 

“Do you need any meds? I can get you some.”

He scowled. “I’m not Beaux. Don’t act like you have to take care of me, Shannon.”

I held up my hands and pulled back. “Grouchy before your morning shake?”

I tried to make light of the moment, but his comment stung. The look of remorse he gave me before he slid out of bed helped.

“No. Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sore as fuck, though.” He wiped a hand across his mouth and his shoulders fell when he faced me, both of us on opposite sides of the bed, the space between us larger than the monstrous bed. “I’m not used to someone wanting to take care of me or being worried about me.”

I looked at the floor for my clothes and my bag. I understood. I still had the urge to flee.

“Go shower and get cleaned up,” he suggested, his voice warmer. “I’ll go get your bag. Dropped it by the front door last night and you drove me so fucking crazy I forgot about it.”

I arched a brow. “I drove you crazy?”

“Yes. The mere sight of you drives me fucking insane. Not used to that either. Go shower.”

The admission seemed to surprise him more than it did me. He was out the door of the room like a bat out of hell when I realized I was still standing in the bedroom staring at his beautiful retreating form. Both of us were in deeper than we imagined.

I shook it off.

I could dwell on his rudeness or accept him as he was. Beaux wasn’t the nicest guy in the morning, especially after game days, either—win or lose. Their bodies took a pounding and sometimes Beaux told me that fucked with their heads, made them feel weaker than they thought they should be.

I tried to shake it off, tried not to take the comment personally as I turned on the water in the shower. I used the restroom while I waited for the water to heat before I climbed in, still naked from how I’d fallen asleep. 

Water sluiced down my body and I slid my hands along my arms and stomach, waiting for Oliver to return with my bag that contained my shampoo and hair-taming crème. I’d need more than hotel shampoo and conditioner to deal with the frizz.

The door to the bathroom opened, letting in a burst of cool air before the sliding door to the shower opened behind me.

He was naked when he slid his body against mine, his hand reaching to my front and showing me he’d thought to grab the shampoo.

“Thank you.” I took it out of his hands and squeezed a large amount into my palms before I turned and stepped slightly out of the spray so he could get wet. “Joining me in the shower?”

“Figured the quicker I got us cleaned up, the quicker you could put your mouth where you wanted it earlier.”

He rocked his hips forward, drawing my attention downward.

“You’re an ass,” I whispered, scrubbing my hair but still unable to take my eyes off his hand wrapped around his long and thick erection.

He was beautiful. Strong and sinewy and every muscle in his abdomen bunched and flexed as he slowly stroked himself.

He was a jerk, or he could be, but he was also quick to apologize as if he couldn’t believe the things he spoke sometimes. Like he didn’t want to be who he’d become, but didn’t know how to stop it.

“Tell me you don’t want my dick in your throat, that you don’t want to leave today with the taste of my cum in your mouth.”

I rinsed my hair before he stepped into the spray, washing himself.

Soap rolled down his body while he scrubbed himself with his hands, cupping his balls and cleaning off his dick.

I stood frozen, and my hands fell to my sides as I licked the drops of water off my lips.

“You want it, don’t you? You want me more than you think you should, but you can’t help yourself.”

He read me like an open book. I still challenged him by arching a brow.

“And you?” I asked, unable to stop myself from moving toward him and reaching for him. He was right. I did want the taste of him deep in my throat. “Does it piss you off that you want me so much?”

I dropped to my knees and licked along his shaft. His hand fell from his dick to my head, pushing water off my forehead.

“Fuck. Yes, it pisses me off.” 

I looked up at him from on my knees. Satisfaction trilled through my veins at his admission. 

“Suck me harder. Deeper.”

His commands shot through me, making me flush. Never had I been so excited to get on my knees for a man, or had I thought being told what to do would be such a fucking turn-on. Out of bed, it rankled me.

Inside of it, or in the shower—or anytime I had my hands on Oliver or his were on my body—it made me needy, desperate for him.

I wrapped my hand around his shaft, pulling and tugging as my mouth went to work on him. His hands cupped my cheeks, holding me in place while he fucked my mouth. Every thrust of his hips forward drove me crazy, making me gag, and tears fell from my eyes.

“Relax your throat,” he whispered, gentling his hold on me. “Open it and take me deeper. You can do it.”’

He pushed forward slowly, the tip of him scraping against the back of my throat.

I began to take more of him while he slowly moved forward and retreated. He gave me time to breathe and adjust. Every glide of his dick against my throat made me grow wetter until I dropped one hand to my center and rubbed my clit.

“That’s it,” he murmured encouragingly. “Get yourself off because I’m not coming in your throat. I’m coming all over your fucking gorgeous tits.”

My body trembled at his words, but I complied.

I wanted whatever he wanted.

“Faster,” he said. “Spread your legs. Your mouth feels so full, so fucking good on my dick.”

I built up the heat in my body as his thrusts came quicker.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his movements becoming more erratic.

I whimpered around his cock, my orgasm coiling inside me. It was barreling down on me, making my pulse speed. My movements around his dick turned frenetic from the impending rush that would flood my veins.

“Fucking hurry, Shannon.” He grunted, moved faster, and I put my hand back on his shaft to stop him from pushing too hard.

He slapped my hand away and glared down at me. “You’ll fucking take what I give you and you’ll love it, every single fucking time.”

The warning, the threat…the promise, was all I needed. I squeezed my eyes closed as he hit my throat at the same time I exploded beneath him. My knees hurt from the travertine-tiled floor, but it was all secondary to the pleasure that rolled through me, bright lights sparking behind my closed lids when he quickly pulled out of me.

I opened my eyes just in time to see his hard cock in front of me, and his cum splashed against my chest like he’d promised.

He braced himself with one hand on the wall next to us, his other wrapped around the length of him. He tugged harshly as he grunted his climax, shooting in long, thick spurts all over my wet and soapy breasts.

I waited until he was done and then my hands went to my chest. I washed it away while at the same time rubbing it into my skin, smiling when I realized what I was doing.

“Fucking hell,” he said, his voice harsh and dry. “I don’t think I’ve ever had someone suck my dick like you do.”

It was meant as a compliment as he reached down and helped me to my feet before quickly brushing his lips against mine.

I tried to take it that way. I still turned and put my back to the shower, not wanting him to know how it hurt me. The reminder of the women he used for sex, that I was here, at his crash pad and not his home, where we’d just fucked like rabbits for hours and slept very little.

His hands slid to the front of my stomach and he pulled me against him. His lips glided down the side of my throat as I cleaned myself, keeping my eyes closed.

“I feel like you took that the wrong way, or it came out the wrong way. I just meant that I liked it. Fucking loved it. Will be something I always remember.”

At least that was a bonus. When I was gone, when we were done, he’d remember my lips around his dick.

“I should get going,” I said, stepping out of the water and practically jumping out of his grasp.

“You’re hurt, and I’m not sure what I did to do that.”

I didn’t know either. Maybe because this simply wasn’t me. I was moving on from Patrick. I wasn’t willing to get lost in someone like that again, someone whose very presence made everyone want to put their own desires to the side and give them whatever they needed or wanted.

I could see it happening, from the way I responded to his commands to the way I’d thought about him all week.

Perhaps I wasn’t cut out for this after all. It wasn’t my heart I was worried about, it was my own passions, my own desires and dreams. I was suddenly terrified that spending time around Oliver would make me get all wrapped up in him and his desires and that mine would get pushed to the aside.

Again.

This was supposed to be my hour, my time to finally throw myself into everything I’d always wanted. Getting lost in Oliver Powell and his magic cock with his wicked words had the power to throw it all off-kilter if I let it.

“I’ll let you shower,” I mumbled and stepped from the steamy, enclosed space before he could stop me.

“You leave before I get out and I’ll tan your ass,” he said over the din of the water falling. “Not fucking kidding, Shannon.”

I wasn’t planning on it. I was afraid, but I wasn’t a coward. I didn’t enjoy running from something difficult, even though I’d done that too. Sure, I missed Beaux and wanted to be close to family, but at the epicenter of my decision to leave Des Moines was the fact it was too hard to face the memories of Patrick and our life together.

I didn’t want to do it again, though, but it also didn’t mean I had to hop back into bed with the man either. I didn’t have to throw everything I wanted away just because he commanded it.