Page 89 of Silver Player

“You don’t touch a book, William. You read it. You enjoy.” I imitate her voice and her words to me from weeks ago, and her brows lift. “You’re a book I want to touch and read and enjoy over and over again.”

She huffs at the reminder. She said I’d never read her. I’d never discover the fine lines of her face. I’d never uncover her breasts or her backside as I do removing her bra and then her lacy underwear. I’d never devour the unwritten words in her sighs or purrs, the ones she gives me as my hands roam over all her skin. And then my lips follow, kissing, sucking, and nipping. Her neck. Her shoulder. Her inner wrist. I nibble her fingers and her nipples and then the middle of her belly. I lower, the covers a tent over us, and I read between the folds of her.

“Billy,” she groans as my fingers draw around her before my tongue dips into her. Her hips respond with a slow thrust before dropping back to the mattress. I hold her in place, but she undulates minutely beneath my palm on her hip bone, making love to my tongue as it delves into her.

She bends her knees, opening, spreading, and allowing me in. Her body slowly dances against my face, and the soft stroke of a sock-covered foot swipes up my lower back. I’d laugh at the strangeness, only it feels too right. With the bed tent keeping us under darkness and warmth, I’d have sex with this woman every night, socks on and all.

She doesn’t come quickly like when I simply touch her but allows me to draw it out of her, letting it roll in a slow wave. Her head turns to the side. Her fingers delve into my hair. Her mouth opens on a deep sigh. She is so beautiful when she opens for me like this and comes.

Once she settles from the high, she purrs, “My turn.”

“You already had a turn,” I tease, climbing back up her body, licking a path as I proceed north on her. I circle a nipple again and then suck at her neck.

“It wasn’t enough,” she whispers, and my chest aches. The clutching of roots, digging deeper and deeper, gripping me.

It’s never going to be enough.

Holding myself in my fist, I stroke my tip through her soaked folds. She’s so wet from the combination of her and my mouth, and I want to slip in, thrust forward, and rush to fill her, but I won’t. I spilled on her belly that first night when I should have taken more care with her. Roxie is different. She’s so much more to me.

“Condom?” I question, not withdrawing from the slow drag through her heat, but letting her coat me completely. Damn, she feels so good like this, but it isn’t smart, not responsible. I know we did it the first time without one, but I don’t want any doubts. No concerns over my history. “I’ve laid it all out for you.”

“I know you did,” she replies, taking a deep breath. “And I have an IUD.” Her fingers stroke over my temples. “You have nothing to prove to me. I already know you’re a good man.”

Shit. This makes me want to be a better man. She smiles weakly, and I want to assure her. She’s the only one I want. Her fingers reach around me, tugging up sheets and blankets, restoring the fortress of warmth around us.

“You’re sure about this?” I ask. I’m not even certain what I’m asking. About us? Here? Now? The future? I don’t want any doubts. I also don’t want to turn back, feeling as if we’ve already gone too far, but something in her eyes makes me hesitate.

“I’m not certain of anything,” she admits. “But I want you.”

We should talk about that uncertainty. Does she not feel how much I want her? My heart races. My fingers tremble. I’ll never be close enough even once I’ve entered her. I want all of her.

But I’m too wound up to talk, so I position myself and then take my time entering her. I’m not certain I’ve been this cautious, this reserved, but I want to worship her, savor every second. Every ripple. Every ridge. I want to feel her surround me, and I easily slide home, filling her. Then I still. I need a minute. With those sparkling silver eyes, intense and questioning, this moment seems like so much more. She’s important to me, and I want her to feel it. I was right when I teased her. Who said anything about sex? This isn’t sex. It has never been just sex with her.

I pull back, and her eyes roll closed. Rushing forward, I stress. “Open for me.”

Her lids lift, and she watches my face as I retreat once again. Her hands are already on my shoulder blades, but it isn’t enough. I thrust forward and groan near her ear, “Hold onto me.”

Her fingertips massage into my back and then lower to my ass, squeezing the tense globes as I set a controlled rhythm, dragging out the motions to fill her and repeat. In and out. In and out. It’s as if we’re dancing, and I never want the music to stop.

There’s a rumor going ’round…

No more rumors. Only truths. I want all of Roxanne.

“Billy,” she moans, her head lifting, her fingers digging into my ass, attempting to hold me in place as though she wants me to fill her, she wants me to stay inside her, she wants me. Her leg rises higher against my side, and I slip an arm under her knee, opening her even more to me. Still taking my time, I increase the tempo. Her body begs for more, and my body needs to up the beat.

“I love my name on your lips,” I stammer, thrusting faster. “I love your lips on my dick.”

Her breath catches, and I move faster.

My name is a soft plea to give her everything.

“I love how deep I am inside you. I love how you hold onto me.”

Billy becomes a strangled cry of relief and release as she unfolds around me. I take in her face. Lids lowered, teeth digging into her lip. I’d kiss her except she looks so fucking beautiful, and I implode, stilling all but my dick which jolts inside her, spilling into her depths.

I collapse, crushing her only momentarily before rolling to my side and dragging her with me.

“I thought you weren’t going to have sex with me with my socks on,” she teases, nuzzling into my neck.