Page 6 of Protective Player

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“I know we only met but trust me. I’ll get you somewhere safe.”

And that was the thing. We met less than an hour ago, and I didn’t know him. But I trust him. There’s something about Dawson Davis that makes me feel… safe. I have no real reason to believe it but I just know deep down that he’ll always protect me and won’t do anything to hurt me. It’s insane. But it’s something I know to be as true as my own name.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

We walk back to his SUV, and when I step up on the runner to climb into the back seat, I turn around and throw my arms around his thick neck, and lean forward. I don’t know how it happened, and if you ask me a hundred years from now, I’d still swear that all I meant to do was plant a kiss on his cheek. That’s not what happened.

Our lips meet, and my entire body feels like it exploded. Like electricity crackling through my every vein and filling me with an intense heat, unlike anything I'd ever felt before. It’s not even just a peck.

As he slips his tongue into my mouth, swirling it around mine, his big hands practically encircle my entire waist. I let myself melt into him, pressing my body against his hard, toned physique as our kiss deepens. My panties are so drenched, I’m half-convinced they’ll never dry out again. My legs are shaking so hard, I have to put my hand on his broad shoulders to keep from falling.

I slowly pull back and he strokes my cheek—a strangely delicate gesture from such a big, gruff man. But it makes my heart skip a beat all the same. Our eyes are locked together, and heat comes off his body. It’s hotter than the sun and makes me feel even weaker in the knees than I already do.

“Sorry,” I say. “I… I… That’s not something I normally do with strange men. And honestly, we only met an hour ago…”

I hear myself rambling and let my words trail off, my face burning with a heat I’ve never felt before. Dawson offers me a smile as he helps me slide into the back seat of his SUV.

“It’s alright. I understand and as much as I might want to, I won’t take advantage of the situation. You have my word.”

“Thank you,” I say even though every cell in my body is crying out, demanding I let him take advantage of the situation—and of me.

“I ain’t going to lie though—you’re a damn good kisser.”

I clap my hands over my mouth as a flustered laugh bursts from my throat. Dawson gives me a wink and closes the door of the SUV.



Stiff and sore and with a hard-on stiffer than I’ve had in I don’t even know how long, I roll off the couch and stretch out.

It’s not the most comfortable thing to sleep on but I surrendered my bedroom to Devon when we got back here last night. She had misgivings about coming back to my place, of course, and I had to reassure her that I had no nefarious intentions. As much as I wish she would have thrown caution to the wind and her panties at me along with it, I behaved like an honorable gentleman.

That kiss… I dreamed about that the entire night. Which is why I woke up with the kind of hard-on I haven’t had since puberty. Her warm breath in my mouth, the velvety feel of her tongue on mine, her soft, supple body in my hands, those full, round tits pressed to my chest. It was almost impossible to keep from coming in my pants right then and there. By some miracle, I managed to keep from making a mess of myself.

But it came at a price. I spent the entire night tossing and turning on the couch, fantasizing about the thousand different ways I would take Devon. Fantasizing about all the things I would do to her and the things I would make her do. I imagined the feel of her body. Imagined the sweet scent of her musk and the taste of her on my lips. Thinking about all that had me in the shower jerking off last night just to relieve the pressure. Twice.

Giving myself a shake, I walk into the kitchen and pull the bottle of orange juice out of the refrigerator. I twist off the top and toss it on the counter then take a long swallow.

“Good morning.”

I manage to avoid choking on the orange juice and turn to see Devon standing in the kitchen archway and have to quickly think of something mundane to keep from getting a hard-on right in front of her.

She's wearing one of my T-shirts—that she’s swimming in—and a pair of socks. And that's it as far as I can tell. I'm sure she's wearing panties under the t-shirt, of course, but the image she presents me with her tousled hair and bleary smile smacks of innocence that turns me on in so many ways. Turns me almost feral.

All I can think about is sitting her up on the counter, spreading her pale thighs, and driving myself into her hot, sweet hole as hard as I possibly can until I fill her with my seed.

I clear my throat and run a hand through my hair, trying to purify my thoughts as quickly as I can. Devon steps forward and takes the bottle out of my hand.

“You mind?” she asks.

“Have at it.”

She takes a long swallow of juice, and my eyes travel the curve of her neck, moving down to the swell of her breasts beneath the thin fabric of my t-shirt, then further down still to her shapely, toned legs. For being such a tiny little thing, she’s got remarkably long legs. And as I stare at them, all I can think about is having them wrapped around the back of my head and my tongue deep in that sweet, wet cleft between them.

“Thank you.” She hands the bottle back to me.

“You’re welcome,” I reply and take another drink before setting it down on the counter.

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