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Play Me Hot (Play Me #2)

By´╝ÜTracy Wolff

Play Me Hot (Play Me #2)
Author: Tracy Wolff

Chapter One


Aria is trembling. Whether from fear or desire I don't know, but it's a question I need answered before I go any further. And we are going further-there's no doubt as to that. The only question is when. Now, if she's ready. Later, if she needs time to get used to what I want from her, used to where I want to take her.

I want to give her the world, not make her afraid of it.

She sighs, a quiet, intoxicating thing that I might have overlooked if I wasn't pressed up against her, my body crowding hers, the back of her head resting against my shoulder. I press a kiss to her temple and she responds by burrowing closer. Turning her head so that her face is buried in my neck. We fit together perfectly, thanks to the four inch heels she wears for work, her back resting against my front. Her sweet ass cradling my rock-hard dick.

"You didn't answer me," I tell her, left hand stroking her hip while my right slides around her torso, cupping her left breast. I pull her even closer.

"I don't-" Her voice breaks and she clears her throat before starting again. "I don't know what to say."

Of course she doesn't. She can take a rich bastard down without breaking a sweat, can let the most blatant, unwanted advances roll right off her back. But one glimpse of real desire, real need, and she's lost. It's just one more reason why I want to be the one who takes her on this journey. Who opens her eyes to the myriad possibilities and pleasures she barely knows exist.

Stroking her aching, aroused nipple, I listen for the way her breathing pattern changes. Relish the way her whole body tightens against mine. "Say yes," I urge as I run my thumb back and forth over the tight bud, a little harder with each pass.

"Sebastian." Her voice breaks in the middle but her back arches, pressing her breast more firmly into my palm. I give her the pressure, the touch, she's so blatantly asking for.

"Say you want me to take control." I slide the hand on her hip down a little, curve it around the upper part of her leg so that my fingers are stroking the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

"Say you want to learn what it means to have total command-of yourself, of your body. Of your pleasure. Of your partner." There can be no misunderstandings. Not with what I want to do to her.

A part of me thinks I should back off, let her think, but it's too late for that. Too late for me to just step back and let her go. Not when her every broken sigh makes my dick harder and my focus sharper.

I squeeze her nipple now, roll it between my thumb and forefinger. Not hard enough to hurt, not yet. Just hard enough to make her whimper, make her shake. To remind her of what's coming if she says yes.

"I want-" Her voice breaks again. This time I don't help her out. This time I push her a little further, my fingers skimming along the seam of her leg where it meets her hip. Rubbing back and forth against the lace there. Back and forth. Back and forth. Until she's squirming against me, her breath coming in ragged fits and starts.

"Sebastian." Her voice is low, husky, nearly unrecognizable and my whole body tightens as I register the tension in it. The surrender she doesn't yet know how to voice.

"Yes, Aria?" I slip first one finger inside her panties, and then a second. She's wet and hot and trembling and I want nothing more than to bring her off, bring her over again and again and again. But she's not there yet, not quite ready for all the things I plan to do to her.

And so I wait, stroking my fingers softly, slowly, along the petals of her sex. She gasps then, her hands coming backward over her head to circle my neck. To hold me closer.

I like the feel of her hands on me, almost as much as I like the feel of my hands on her. I slip my thumb inside her panties now, too, as a reward. I toy with her clit even as I press one finger between her lips and stroke, stroke, stroke.

She trembles, her body jerking against my own. And then she's burrowing her face more tightly against my neck, licking her way along the edge of my collar.

It feels good, her breath warm and wet against my skin. Her body soft and yielding against the hardness of my own. Knowing she needs the contact-and the small amount of control it gives her-I tilt my head back and let her do her worst.

She does. Jesus Christ, does she.

Her lips skim along my jaw, from my chin up to the sensitive spot behind my ear. She pauses there, sucks gently at my skin. Then bites, one sharp, clean nip of her teeth.


Her tongue is out now, soothing the small hurt, the small bruise that I know she will have left there. Marking me as I so desperately long to mark her.

As I will mark her, as soon as she says-

"Yes." For the first time since we started this, her voice is strong, steady, sure.

It's my turn to shake, something that never happens to me anymore. Relief, I realize, slowly pulling my hands from her body before she notices. A breach in my control is not what either of us need right now.


"Sebastian?" Her voice is quiet, her body searching as she turns a little into me..

I stop her with a hand on her hip, keep her facing the window. A glance at the clock on the wall tells me we have twenty minutes before she's supposed to be back on the casino floor. And while everything inside me revolts at the idea of letting her go back down there now that she's mine, of standing by and watching other men grab and grope the sweet body that is even now moving against my own, it's not my choice. Not now.

Not yet.

I want to do so much to her, want to take her apart like a puzzle, until I'm holding each individual piece of her in my hand. Until I can see inside her, around her, between the cracks I recognize but don't yet understand.

Twenty minutes isn't nearly enough time. But it's a start.

"Put your hands on the window."

"What? I don't-"

"Your hands. The window," I tell her again, making sure to keep my voice dark and stern despite my overwhelming need to cuddle her close to me.

For long seconds she doesn't move, as if she's contemplating whether she should do what I've instructed. I wait patiently, let her decide. Other Doms, other men, would do something to persuade her-maybe even punish her for her hesitation. Setting the precedent. Beginning how they plan to go on.

But I'm not those guys and my goals are very different from theirs. I don't want a slave, don't want her to obey my every whim inside the bedroom and out.


No, what I want from Aria is something completely different. In the end, I want to build her up, not break her down. I want to give her control, not take it away.

I want her strength, not her submission.

And so I wait, to see how she'll respond. To see what she'll do. Already I have plans for her, so, so many plans. Plans that include taking her to the very edge of cataclysmic pleasure and then hurling her over. Again and again and again.

But not until she's ready. Not until she takes this first small but imperative step.

She's watching me, her head turned toward me even as her body faces away, the look in her eyes dark and dangerous and delicious. She's taking my measure, deciding how far she wants to go. How far she's willing to let me push her-how far she's willing to push me. Too bad she can't yet imagine the depths we're going to explore.

Long seconds tick by while neither of us moves. We just stand there, eyes locked. Breathing in sync. I think about repeating the command, but no. She heard me. Saying it again is a sign of weakness, a loss of control that I just won't give her. Can't give her.

But there's an uncertainty in her eyes, a fear that I don't like to see. Keeping her off-bala