PLAY ME (3 page)

A soft scream, all pleasure now.

He dug his fingers into her hair while the fingers in her pussy rotated.

And she came again in waves that were velvet fists over his fingers and his cock.

"Do it," she said. "Please, Sam." For emphasis, she tilted her ass higher until she was on tiptoe, bent before him, on the verge of falling.

He yanked his fingers from her pussy and grabbed one shoulder while his other hand gripped her hip to steady her—

And he thrust hilt-deep into the
 
dark passage.

They both moaned.

For a startled second, they held, while he waited to see if she was okay.

"I don't know if I love this or hate it," she said with a shaky laugh.

He growled deep in his throat. "Then tell me now. Make up your mind…" Barely, barely he held himself from going full caveman on her with slamming, near-violent strokes.

One of her hands reached up and covered the one he had on her shoulder, then, amazing, incredible lover that she was, she rose higher on her toes and bent deeper, presenting herself to him on a platter. "You still have to jack off later on the balcony." Her eyes were sparkling with humor and mischief.

He laughed out loud, something he could never have imagined doing when he had his dick in an unbelievably sexy woman's ass.

He wanted to know her so much better, but she absolutely did not.

Damn it, she frustrated the living hell out of him—but no way was he ending this. Or letting her walk away.

He pulled out, keeping only the head of his cock inside her.

Then grinned and nodded. "You got it."

And slammed inside her to the sound of their mingled groans.

And the unmistakable milking sensation of her beautiful body in yet another orgasm.

He wasn't far behind.

Chapter Two

DANI STIRRED AND REALIZED THEY were curled together on the floor, her bottom tucked against his groin, one of his beautifully muscled arms wrapped around her waist, holding her to him almost like he…cared.

For a second, something inside her quivered, and a tendril unfurled inside her chest, something soft and sweet that made her…ache.

That frightened her as nothing else had in longer than she could remember. She'd been alone a long time, and she was fine with that. Perfectly fine. She'd built a life for herself, one that she managed with skill, one where there were no surprises, no ledges from which to fall, nothing out of her control but what she chose to let go.

Sam's heavy breath soughed across her cheek and stirred her hair.

At least until Sam, nothing had escaped her control…

And his name wasn't Sam.

Luke
. Luke who?
 

No
. His name didn't matter. The man she knew as Sam was a creature of their imaginations, a fun fiction, an escape into a world where she could allow surprises to happen, where she was free to play and dare and let the reins slip for a little while.

You're exhausted from being in charge all the time and everywhere. You need somewhere safe.

No. She only needed to leave. Now.

But she couldn't leave—he'd come to her place. Sought her out, dressed more casually than normal.
 
Studying her, at times, too carefully.

She was safe with him—somehow no matter how wild and crazy their schemes, she knew he would never let her get hurt.

But she was responsible for herself. That's how it had been since she was barely a teenager and that's how it should always be. That way was safer. She could choose when to arrive and when to leave. Walk away the second anything got too close.

Anyone.

His hand tightened on her waist. Began sliding up to her breast, those long, strong fingers curving gently around her, cradling the weight of her breast and gently squeezing.

Then he placed a kiss to her nape and…nuzzled.

She went rigid all over. It felt good—unbelievably so—but she'd already let him skip past her turn, and he'd said maybe it was just as well for The Game to be over…

But it couldn't be. When The Game ended, they would be done and—

She bit her lower lip. She wasn't near done with him yet.

His cock stirred behind her. He flexed his hips and slid his length against her. "Are you sore?" he asked hoarsely. "I should have brought oil with me. We should keep some on hand from now on." His head dipped, and his teeth nipped at her ear lobe.

Keep some on hand
. He planned to come back.

Here. In her refuge. Where she never allowed anyone.

"Sam…"

His fingers began to swirl over her left breast, circling the nipple, trailing the soft, curvy surface. A pluck of her nipple, a nudge against her ass…his mouth fastening on her nape—

God. He could make her want him so easily.

No. This was changing too fast. She reached behind her and grabbed his shaft, then began turning to face him. "Sam…"

His blue eyes studied hers with too much insight. "I changed my mind. Call me Luke."

She stalled for time. "Is that short for Lucas?" she asked brightly.

"I won't make you dig," he said, studying her too closely as he slid his hand from her breast up her throat, banding it with faint menace that made her breath catch.

Then his journey resumed, the backs of his fingers trailing over her throat and upward to circle her ear, then sliding into her hair. "Lucas Samuel Forrester. Age thirty-six. Six foot four, two hundred twenty-one pounds. Never married. Never wanted to be," he said, his warm breath whispering over her lips as he lowered his face to hers. "Resident of Santa Fe." His nose brushed over the tip of hers as he cruised his lips over her cheek and down her jaw.

"New Mexico? That's—" she gasped when his mouth fastened on her throat and suckled. "That's…a long commute."

"I have my own plane," he murmured. "And a permanent hotel suite for when I'm here for business." He nipped lightly. "Or…pleasure."

He must be rich as seven sins.

But she could make her own money just fine.

And his name was too Sam. "I'm still calling you Sam."

He chuckled against her throat. "All right." He nipped, and her whole body reacted.

He continued his journey headed south, licking his way across her collarbone, then pressing a line of kisses to the valley between her breasts as his hand skimmed over her waist, her hip.

"You're supposed to be jacking off on my balcony," she managed.

He settled his teeth around her left nipple and raked them over the desperately hard peak.

"Sam…"

"We'll get there," he said, and opened his mouth, taking a long ice cream lick from beneath her breast and over the peak.

Her insides clenched. She had to swallow to speak. "I can't let you get away with this."

He buried the top of his head between her breasts and gently brushed his hair over the sensitive skin. "With what? Making love to you?" Every word was a hot kiss of breath over her midriff. "Relax. We'll get off—more than once, I assure you—and we'll have fun. Isn't that the point?"

Then he began to kiss his way down her belly.

Making love. No. That couldn't be what they were doing here—it could
not
.

"It's only—" She squeaked as he nipped at her mound and trailed his tongue over the hairs beginning to grow out. She'd been busy. She hadn't expected to see him so soon. "I have to make an appointment to wax."

He licked the crease between thigh and mons. "Don't. I like pubic hair just fine. Go natural, Dani. Be who you are."

Oh god. He had no idea what that meant.

And she was not going back. Ever.
Who you are
. What was that? The fatherless girl who'd taken care of her always-complaining, never-happy mother, a weak, pitiful woman who let life buffett her and her daughter around? The fifteen-year-old who'd fled to the streets to escape the system after her mother had died? Who'd lost herself in a haze of drugs and loneliness for a few miserable, lost months until she'd nearly wound up in jail?

No. She would never go back. She wasn't that girl now, that Darlene from the trailer park who'd existed at others' whims.

She was the person she'd created, Danielle Martin, kickass investment advisor, the woman others feared, to whose tune others marched. Her life was carefully controlled and ordered, a testament to sanity and logic.

Except for the lost times, the ones where she sought out the release, the oblivion she'd denied herself for a long time for fear of turning out like her shiftless mother.

"I've never seen your pubes," Sam murmured now. He cocked his head, trying to glimpse them in the lamplight. Then he grinned up at her, and his face was both young and mischievous. "Don't want me to see that you're not a natural redhead?" His slashing grin cut right through her.

She was, but… "That's for me and my waxer to know." She found an answering smile. Somehow his lighthearted teasing lifted her out of the misery of her past again. She shoved at his shoulders. "Get out there and give me a show," she ordered.

"In a minute. First I have to—" Swiftly he parted her thighs and dove, licking her from mons to
 
vagina, all in one lusty swipe. "Mmm…" he stabbed his tongue into her pussy and swirled.

She couldn't help thrusting against him, begging for more.

One corner of his mouth curved, and he licked upward torturously slowly, lavishly licking her juices from flesh already screaming for more.

"Sam—" She was about to shove at his shoulders—

When he fastened his teeth on her clit and her back bowed.

He gripped her hips. Levered her up and rose himself, his hard dick arrowing toward her. "Have to, Dani," he growled. "Can't wait."

When he thrust inside her, she gave up caring about what she wasn't getting to watch—

Because what she was getting to feel was so,
so
very much better.

"Wrap your legs around me," he urged. "Let me in, Dani. All the way in."

You're in too deep already
, she thought…

Until another savage thrust had her holding onto his shoulders for dear life. Dani quit thinking of anything but this gorgeous, unbelievably hot stud who kept turning her life upside down.

In the most divine, decadent, delicious of ways.

He left her sleeping, but this time leaving her was harder. He'd tucked her into bed and closed her balcony doors for safety. He'd talked to her doorman to make sure the super locked the door so she could sleep safe.

But a perfectly insane part of him had wanted to stay the night with her.

Staying the night…crazy talk. Telling her who he really was? Worse, nearly bragging like a boy over something like his helicopter?

What the hell?

Yeah, the sex was great—off the chain, for sure. Never in his life had he found a woman more willing to let loose and just…fuck. Simply for the sake of fucking. That's all she wanted—he believed that. Just to play The Game.

So why was he feeling this itch under his skin, this subtle buzz of dissatisfaction that led him to push for more?

Luke dragged one hand over his face as though it would erase the insanity currently gripping him in its claw.

Yeah, she fascinated him, all right. He spent way too much time thinking about her when he was away from her. He'd forcefully wrested himself back to sense in the daylight hours, at least. Most days he could get his work done just fine. He hadn't realized how obsessed he'd become with her, ruthlessly strangling thoughts of her whenever they popped up—which seemed to happen far too often, like in the middle of a meeting where he imagined laying her down on the conference table before him, spreading her legs like a feast. Gorging himself on her until she writhed on the glossy wood, while her juices glistened and beckoned him.

He'd missed part of more than one meeting while imagining burying his face between her legs and slowly, lavishly licking over and inside the folds of her sex, drinking in the erotic elixir where her flesh wept for him…

God. Once more he scrubbed a hand over his face and realized his driver had arrived at the hotel and was watching him in the rearview mirror, his brow faintly lined with worry. "Sir?"

Seeing Henry made him remember Dani sitting beside him, bare-ass naked on the leather of this very seat. Idly he wondered if Henry could smell her on the leather afterward.

While he and Jean-Paul and Carlos and Bruno had been fucking and sucking and gorging themselves on the wealth of her passion until that darkened room had become their only reality.

The room…and the beautiful white body of Dani Martin.

"Sir?"

Luke forcibly straightened. Cleared his throat.

But he could still taste her. "Thank you, Henry. That will be all tonight." He had to struggle to remember his schedule. "I'll need you at seven in the morning—"
No
, he corrected himself, thinking that a bout in the gym might burn off some of this obsession and clear his head. "On second thought, meet me at the gym at nine. I'll walk there from here."
 

A good punishing workout might be just what the doctor ordered.

"Very well, sir."