Player & the Game (17 page)

Stephanie wiggled beneath him, shoving against his chest. He hesitated, confused. After some seconds she felt him ease off of her slightly.

“I'm not stopping. Don't worry,” Stephanie whispered in the dark. She wouldn't leave him hanging like that. After all, pleasuring men was her specialty.

She slowly guided him onto his back and straddled him. She then lowered her mouth to his and he enthusiastically kissed her back, cupping her bottom. She shifted her mouth to his neck then slowly descended to his chest. She left a weaving wet trail of kisses and taunting licks along his torso, making him breathe in sharply. When she finally reached his manhood and lowered her mouth to it, she felt the muscles in his stomach clench.

“Shit!” he cried out as she pleasured him in the pitch black of the room, savoring the taste of him. He fisted his hands in her hair. His breathing quickened with every saucy tongue flick and stroke of her hand. She was torturing him and pleasuring him all at the same time.

Minutes later, she could tell he was close. She stopped, pulling her mouth away, and straddled him again. Just as she centered her hips over his, she felt herself being abruptly pushed onto her back. She fell back against the mattress. Her head teetered dangerously close to the edge of the bed. Her hair cascaded to the carpeted floor like a black curtain.

Stephanie felt him shift and scramble toward the head of the bed. She heard the sound of spare change sliding across a wooden surface, a loud clatter of metal, and then a
thump
.

What the hell was that
, she thought, raising her head and squinting in the dark.

“Shit!” he muttered again. “Knocked over the damn lamp.”

“Keith, what are you doing?” she whispered.

He didn't answer her, but he didn't have to. She heard the tell-tale sound of a packet being ripped open. She guessed he had one in his wallet. She had a half dozen of them herself. She didn't know how he could manage to put on the condom in this pitch blackness, but when he returned to her less than a minute later, she guessed he had figured it out.

He climbed on top of her and Stephanie felt her thighs being spread wider again. He raised her hips and crouched between them. She reached blindly for him, grabbing his hips and bracing herself just as he slid inside her. She cried out. He grunted.

It was an odd sensation, being made love to in the dark, not seeing the person who was doing it, but the sensation was erotic all the same. He pumped rhythmically and her hips met his own. The squeak of the old motel bed was like a metronome, keeping the ardent tempo of their lovemaking.

Stephanie felt his hand on her breast again, rubbing the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Another hand cradled her round bottom and squeezed it.

If Keith had been holding back before, he wasn't anymore. The pace suddenly increased and was almost rough in its abandonment of tenderness and control. But she liked it. Her body was responding to it.

He drove even deeper inside her, making her have to spread her legs even wider to accept him. Her thighs began to tremble again. She closed her eyes.

She felt it when he did. Their bodies jerked simultaneously, clenched in spasms of pleasure. Stephanie cried out again and her back arched once more as the waves crested over her. So did Keith. Then the sensation slowly dissipated. Her body went slack. His manhood gave one final jerk inside her. He then fell hard against her, taking several deep breaths before finally rolling off her and onto his side.

They lay there in the silent darkened room for what seemed like an eternity. Minutes later, another shaft of light entered the room as a car pulled into the motel lot. Keith abruptly stood up and used it to guide his way as he walked toward the bathroom. She crawled back to the head of the bed.

“Shit,” he said seconds later. Then started mumbling to himself.

“What?” she called out, frowning in the dark.

“Nothing. Nothing,” he murmured in reply.

He returned to the bed and lay down beside her. She faced him.

Stephanie suddenly realized that Keith hadn't said much this whole time—well, unless you counted moans and shouts. She wanted him to say something,
anything
. They had just made love. Shouldn't he say something in response?

“Keith?” she whispered. “
Keith?
”

When he didn't answer her, she began to wonder if maybe he had fallen asleep. She placed her hand on his shoulder and gently shook him. “Keith, are you—”

“Go to sleep, Stephanie,” he murmured. “We should get some rest. Got an early day tomorrow.”

Early day tomorrow?
He was still expecting her to go home? He still didn't want her here? She closed her eyes, feeling rejected and humiliated. She started to rise from his bed and go back to her own on the other side of the motel room.

“We have to head out early if we're going to get to Florida by tomorrow tonight,” he mumbled, turning onto his side.

Stephanie paused. Her eyes widened. “
To Florida?
You mean . . . You mean I can come with you?”

“That's what you wanted, isn't it?” he asked.

“Yes, but I didn't—”

“Go to sleep, Steph.”

Stephanie listened as his breathing gradually deepened. Then he began to snore. There would be no more talking tonight.

She lay by his side again and snuggled closer to him. She closed her eyes. This time she fell asleep within seconds.

Y
ou are one dumb man,
Keith thought to himself in the wee hours of the morning as he lay in his motel bed.
And gullible. Don't forget to add really damn gullible.

Though he was wide awake, his left arm was still asleep. Stephanie was slumbering on top of it, using it as a makeshift pillow. Her thigh was slung over his legs. One breast was pressed against his rib cage. She murmured as she dreamed. A content smile was on her face.

She had every reason to smile. She had won, after all. It looked like the princess was going to get what she wanted: she was going with him to Florida and he was still working for her.

Keith certainly had underestimated the lengths she was willing to go to get what she wanted. He had expected her to use a multitude of tactics: arguing, pouting, and stomping her feet—maybe even a guilt trip. But he hadn't expected her to wake him up in the middle of the night, climb into his bed, and throw herself at him.

I'm definitely not her type,
Keith thought. He wasn't pulling a six-figure salary. He couldn't drape her in diamonds or add even more designer shoes and handbags to her collection. He had eight thousand dollars in his savings account, a lease on a small one-bedroom apartment, and a seven-year-old Ford Explorer. But none of that mattered to Stephanie last night. She had a goal and she went after it—full throttle!

And what had he done in return? Politely refused her advances?

Gotten indignant and turned her away?

He had responded like a thirsty man would if he had suddenly stumbled upon a Deer Park water truck, like a starving man would if he was shoved in front of an all-you-can-eat buffet. Keith had responded so enthusiastically, in fact, that he had thought it a good idea to put on a condom in the dark while he was only half sober. He thought he had felt the damn thing slip off at some point. When he went to the bathroom later, the evidence only confirmed his suspicions.

“You better hope she's on the pill,” a voice in his head warned.

Keith began to grumble again.

The bartender had warned him that he wouldn't be able to put up a fight much longer, but he had no idea he would capitulate this fast! Last night, he had let his dick do all the thinking for him, and his dick had just gotten him into a whole heap of trouble as he suspected it would. How he was going to clean up this mess, he did not know.

Keith flexed his fingers, trying to bring feeling back to his numb arm. When he felt sensation return and his arm began to tingle, he started to tug it gently, trying not to wake Stephanie. He wasn't in the mood to talk to her right now. He was too angry at her and pissed at himself for what had happened last night.

Keith shifted again and tried to ease her thigh off his legs. This time she did wake up, despite his efforts. She squinted against the sunlight coming through the window blinds, yawned, and smacked her lips.

“What . . . what time is it?” she whispered drowsily, wiping her eyes.

“Hell if I know,” he muttered, shoving her off of him. He finally climbed out of bed and rose to his feet.

Stephanie didn't seem to notice his rudeness. She had a goofy smile on her face. Like a cat in a warm sunbeam, she stretched languidly and gazed up at him.

“Good morning,” she said, pushing her rat's nest of hair over her shoulder and out of her eyes.

She was still naked from the night before. The body Keith had felt in the dark, he could now see plainly in the light of day. Unfortunately for him, her nakedness excited him all over again. He instantly hardened at the sight of her.

The breasts he had only glimpsed in the bathroom mirror were now on full display. Her flat stomach led to round hips and long, supple, brown legs. When she rolled onto her belly and stretched again, he saw that plump rear end. A birthmark in the shape of the state of Georgia was on the right cheek.

She gazed at his crotch, seeing the evidence of his growing arousal. Stephanie rose to her knees and slowly crawled across the bed toward him.

“You know . . . I can take care of that for you,” she whispered seductively, wrapping one arm around his neck and her hand around his manhood. She began to stroke him. “Would you like me to take care of it for you?” She then raised her lips to his, closed her eyes, and kissed him eagerly.

“Push her away,” a voice in his head commanded. “You know what game she's runnin'.”

But with her warm naked body pressed against his, with her hand wrapped around him and kneading him gently, Keith could feel the same spell from last night descending over him again, making his heart pound and his blood surge.

His arms felt like they were being controlled by marionette strings as he wrapped one around her waist. He cupped her bottom. When she slipped her tongue between his teeth, instead of twisting his mouth away, he met her tongue with his own. His dick swelled and pressed urgently against her thigh, filling her hand.

Goddamnit,
Keith thought in frustration as she began to stroke him more vigorously, as she pressed her breasts against his chest.

But it looked like that was exactly what he was doing.

This time, though, there would be no pretense of lovemaking, no foreplay. After all, she was getting what she wanted out of this. He might as well get his too, right? There was no crime in that. If this was what she was offering then . . .
fine
. He'd take it!

Stephanie stopped when he tugged her hand away and roughly grabbed her by the shoulders. She gazed at him in amazement just as he gave a hard shove and she landed sprawled on the mattress.

She yelped when Keith grabbed her calves, tugging her toward him until her legs dangled over the edge of the bed. He spread her thighs and climbed between them. She raised herself to her elbows and tried to kiss him again, but he shifted his mouth away and shoved her back down. She tried to wrap her arms around him, but he tugged her hands away and held her wrists, pressing them firmly against the mattress. She cried out when he entered her with no warning. He glided in smoothly. She was wet already or still wet from last night. With such a warm welcome, his body shuddered with pleasure as he filled her.

The pace of his thrusts was even faster than last night—and even rougher. He wasn't sure if she was getting anything out of this but, frankly, he didn't care. His body felt like an overloaded electric circuit, ready to burst at any second. His heart felt like it was trying to pound its way out of his chest. He was all sensation now, oblivious to the fact that a living, breathing human being was underneath him. All he felt was warmth, wetness, and a tight silkiness that enveloped him.

Keith began to groan then moan, and lowered his head into the crook of her shoulder. His hands tightened painfully around her wrists. His body began to jerk and quiver. He shouted with each spasm. Spent, he collapsed on top of her.

 

Twenty minutes later, Keith turned off the blast of hot water and stepped out of the shower into the muggy bathroom.

The complimentary motel soap had taken care of the sweat from last night and this morning; not a speck of its salty residue lingered on his skin. But the soap did not wash away his sense of self-loathing. He would need something a lot stronger than soap to make that go away!

When he had climbed off Stephanie, realizing just what he had done, he had expected anger from her. He had been so callous, so rough. He had treated her like he should toss a hundred dollars on the night table. But instead of cursing him out, she gazed up at him with that same goofy smile on her face from earlier. She wrapped her arms around him and tried to cuddle. Dumbfounded, he had stared at her, gaping.

“What does she care?” a cynical voice in his head mocked. “So what if you treated her like a blowup doll? As long as she gets what she wants in the end, she's happy!”

Stephanie could do what she wanted, but Keith knew he was a better man than this.

As he toweled himself off, he resolved that this would be the last time he gave in to his lust—period. He would resist the urge, no matter how much she tempted him and how much he wanted her. Like a recovering alcoholic, he was going cold turkey, getting her out of his system.

Keith wiped off the foggy mirror with his towel, braced his hands on opposite sides of the sink, and gazed at himself, making his silent promise. But the serious moment was ruined by Stephanie's loud chatter. He could hear her through the bathroom door talking on her cell phone.

Keith turned on the faucet and started to brush his teeth.

“Hey, Carrie, it looks like I'm going to be gone a few more days,” Stephanie said. “Yeah, I'm headed to Florida . . . Yeah . . . I should definitely be back by the end of next week.”

Keith paused from brushing. He closed his eyes. He didn't know how he was going to endure another week with this woman. What was he thinking getting involved with her in the first place?

“Hey, by the way, how did the open house on Wednesday go?” Stephanie asked.

Keith shut out the rest of the conversation. He finished brushing his teeth, wrapped his towel around his waist, and opened the bathroom door. He found Stephanie standing in the middle of the motel room with her cell phone cradled between her shoulder and her ear and a remote control in her hand. She had brushed her hair and was now wearing it in a ponytail. She was also wearing an oversized gray T-shirt—one of his own that he had been planning to wear today. She had probably gotten it out of his dresser drawer. The hem of the shirt skimmed just beneath her bottom, hinting at the shadow of a butt cheek and revealing her long bare legs.

He clenched his jaw. If she had worn a thong and bustier that would be less appealing. A woman in a man's T-shirt had always been one of his favorite turn-ons, only two steps below her being totally naked.

Resist temptation,
he told himself as he averted his eyes and walked around her to his bed.

Stephanie glanced at Keith. “Hey, Carrie, can I call you back? Yeah, I'll update you in a few days.” Stephanie sighed. “Thanks for taking care of everything. You're the best, Carrie . . . Talk to you later. Bye.” She then hung up her phone and tossed it and the remote onto her bed.

“How was your shower?” she asked, strolling across the room toward him.

“Fine,” he muttered, grabbing boxer briefs from his night-table drawer, still trying not to look at her.

“I would have joined you, but I knew I had to update my assistant that she's going to have to take over a bit longer,” she said and plopped down on his bed, crossing her legs.

He didn't respond but instead grabbed a pair of wrinkled jeans and a button-down shirt from another drawer, draping both on the bed.

“So I was thinking,” she said seductively, leaning back. Her T-shirt rose even higher, revealing the tantalizing triangle of hair underneath. “Whatever hotel we decide to stay at in Florida, we should make sure it has a big sunken tub . . . with Jacuzzi jets.”

Ignoring her, Keith busied himself with getting dressed. He stepped into his boxer briefs and tugged them on before dropping his wet towel to the carpeted floor. “What do you think?” Stephanie asked expectantly.

“What do I think about what?”

“About the Jacuzzi jets!” Stephanie gushed. She sat up and crawled across the bed toward him. “We could draw a big bubble bath,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist, “and I can soap you down and—”

“Damn it, will you stop!” he shouted in frustration, tugging Stephanie's arms from around him. He then shoved her away so that she landed on the mattress.

Stephanie's smile faded. “What's wrong?”

“Look, you don't have to keep doing this,” Keith said irritably.

She sat up, looking crestfallen. “Keep doing what?”

“All the touching and kissing and . . .” He buttoned his shirt. “I told you that you can come to Florida. I'm not quitting. You don't have to keep trying to convince me. I'm good! OK?”

She looked absolutely staggered.

“You think . . .” She licked her lips and pointed at her chest. “You think I had sex with you because I wanted you to let me come with you to Florida? You think I did it to keep you from quitting?”

Keith opened his mouth then closed it. He shrugged. “Well . . . yeah.”

In a matter of seconds, the expression on her face morphed from shock, to utter humiliation, to sheer anger.

“You son of a bitch,” she muttered through clenched teeth, slowly shaking her head. “You
son of a bitch!
”

“Stephanie,” he said tiredly, holding up his hands. “Look, I know you—”

In a flash, she turned, grabbed one of the bed pillows, and threw it at his head. He ducked and shifted to the other side of the motel room. She threw a second pillow, then reached down, grabbed one of her high heels, and lobbed it at him. He ducked again, narrowly missing getting blinded by a stiletto. She opened one of the night-table drawers and grabbed a phone book. She threw it at him too. This time it caught him squarely in the chest.

“Damn it, will you stop throwing shit at me?”

“
Why?
Why should I stop?” she shouted, grabbing for a pile of travel magazines. She hurled them at him too. They landed uselessly on the floor a foot in front of him in a cloud of fluttering glossy paper. “You think you can just keep saying whatever you want to me . . . You think you can keep making me feel like shit? You think you can act like I'm some . . . some
whore
and I'm just supposed to accept it?”