Dirty Player: A Rough Riders Novel by Stacey Lynn Page A

breathless and my throat dry. “Go as quick as you need.”
    He smirked, pressed one hand next to my shoulder, and I wrapped my legs around him.
    His other hand wrapped around his erection, he slid it through my slit and groaned. “You’re wet again. Fucking shit.”
    Embarrassment flooded my cheeks and I glanced down, watching him slide his thickness through my folds.
    “Don’t blush,” he whispered as he pressed the head of himself at my entrance. “It’s sexy as hell.” He dropped his head and groaned, and we both watched as he pressed into me. “So fucking tight.”
    “Go slow,” I whispered. My body was unaccustomed not only to sex but to someone of his size. I ached from the rawness of what he’d already done to me so many times today and from my muscles stretching to accommodate him.
    He pushed in slowly, pulling back out even more so. His arm next to me quivered from the strain of control.
    “You okay?” he asked, lifting his head to look me in the eyes. We were inches away from each other, close enough that I could lean up and kiss him. I didn’t.
    We’d been intimate enough, and the look in his eyes—the intensity along with the confusion—made me pull back.
    He wanted to fuck me. He didn’t want to like me. I’d wanted the same until I saw his eyes go soft when he whispered into one of Ralph’s ears. It had been endearing and sweet, something I knew he hadn’t intended for me to see.
    “I’m good.” I nodded and inhaled a deep breath. “Move how you need to.”
    My permission shot through him like the snap of a rubber band. He didn’t ask for my certainty again. He just shoved his hips, pressing into me with a quick, hard movement until he was fully inside.
    I pressed my head back into the pillow beneath me, my fingers clawing at the muscles in his back.
    He went wild as he began thrusting and pulling back. The quick thrust of his hips against me would leave bruises. His muscles, the weight of him, it all sent me spinning and flying as I hung on for the wild ride.
    “Feel so good. So tight. So fucking wet.” 
    His eyes were closed, his lips twisted with rapture and concentration as he dropped to his elbows. His coarse chest hair brushed against my nipples, hardening them into painful points with every scrape of his body against mine.
    I tightened my grip just above his hips, my body heating and igniting with every wicked thrust.
    “Oliver.” I chanted his name, unable to control myself. I met his movements, pulled him to me.
    His lips parted and his head dipped. He pressed his mouth to mine, his tongue instantly invading, and I was surrounded by him.
    By his kisses, his weight, his scent, his muscles, and the powerful pistoning of his hips hitting the end of me every time he moved.
    Our tongues swirled together, matching the movement of his cock. He fucked my mouth like he fucked my pussy. He grew more frantic and we swallowed each other’s groans as my pussy clenched around him, tightening and flexing with another orgasm. It came unbidden but was as reckless as he was. My abs tightened, heat shot from my spine to my sex, and I gripped him, nails digging into his skin so hard I knew they’d leave marks, but it only seemed to make him crazed.
    He lifted his mouth from mine abruptly and then he buried his head into my neck as he seated himself harshly inside of me, balls-deep.
    He groaned against my skin, his hand moving to dig into my hair, and he held my body tightly to him, molded to him as his own orgasm rolled through him.
    I held on to him, loosening my grip to place my palms to his flesh. He was hot and sweating, muscles everywhere, and my palms easily slid up and down the length of his back.
    “I’m crushing you.”
    I liked it, more than I could or would admit. “Mm-hmm.”
    Once his breath caught, he pulled back and I released my hold on him reluctantly. Surprise enveloped me as his gaze searched mine. I’d expected him to pull out immediately and clean up, not look at