Free WMIS 03 Play With Me by Kristen Proby Page A

their feet so quickly in my life. He pulls me to my
feet as well and starts stalking back the way we came.
    “Slow
down! Will, your legs are longer than mine!” I’m practically running behind
him, and he stops abruptly and turns back to me. He looks pissed, his eyes
narrowed and on fire, mouth tight, jaw clenched. I take an involuntary step
back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like such a whore, I just…”
    “If
you ever call yourself a whore again,” he pushes his face into mine, his nose
only centimeters from touching my own, “I will take you over my knee and spank
the hell out of you. Do you understand me? You turn me inside out. I want to
fuck you seven shades of Sunday, and I want to make long, slow, sweet love to
you for days. I’m craving you, goddamn it, and you can’t just say shit like
that to me when I know what you taste like, and what you look like and I need
desperately to know what the fuck you feel like.”
    I
blink at him, completely thrown.
    Well,
okay then.
    “Now,
as much as I want to strip you naked and take you on the fifty-yard-line, I
don’t need those photos surfacing on the internet any more than you do.”
    And
with that he bends down and in one swift move, lifts me onto his shoulder and
begins carrying me off the field, just as quickly as he was before.
    “I
can walk,” I remind him.
    “Not
fast enough,” he mutters and slaps my ass.
    “Hey!”
    “You
deserve that and more, now shut up, Megan.”
    Holy
fuck.
    We
get to the car and he sets me on my feet, and then helps me into the passenger
seat. He walks briskly around the car and folds himself easily behind the
wheel, starts the car and pulls out of the garage, speeding toward the freeway.
    His
handsome face is scowling and he won’t look at me.
    I’m
not sure what to think. Why is he so pissed off? Too much sexual tension? Well,
join the club, sexy man.
    “So…”
I start but he interrupts me.
    “Don’t
talk.”
    What?
    We’re
back on Interstate 5, heading north this time, and he’s driving way past the
speed limit. He passes the exit for my place, and I frown over at him but he
doesn’t acknowledge me. Suddenly, he’s pulling off the freeway, turns left, and
follows the road to an exclusive part of Seattle. The homes are set back from
the road with gates. He approaches the end of the street, pulls into a drive
and enters a code for the gate.
    “The
code is 051877. Can you remember that?”
    “Oh,
so you’re speaking to me,” I mutter sarcastically.
    He
just looks over at me expectantly until I huff and say, “051877.”
    The
gate opens and Will drives us down to a beautiful home that has an unbelievable
view of the Puget Sound. From what I can see in the semi-darkness, the house is
a traditional-style stone house, two stories, with a four car garage.
    “Wow.
This is beautiful.”
    “Thank
you,” he mutters and pulls the car into a garage, parks and cuts the engine. He
unbuckles both of our belts and looks over at me, just stares at me for a long
minute.
    “What
is it?” I whisper.
    “I
want you.”
    “I
sort of figured that out, babe.” I offer him a smile, but he doesn’t return it.
Maybe this is an invitation without actually asking me, to make good on what I
said in the stadium?
    “Are
you wearing underwear?” I ask him.
    He
laughs ruefully – finally! – and shakes his head. “Of course. Most
people do, Meg.”
    “Tilt
your seat back,” I tell him. He holds my gaze and does as I ask. I kick off my
shoes and pull my legs under me in the seat, settling my butt on my heels.
Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I lean in and kiss him hard and deep,
earning a growl from deep in his throat. I reach down and unbutton and unzip
his jeans and he helps me by raising his hips and shimmying his pants and really
sexy white boxer briefs down his hips, letting his heavy, long, thick
erection spring free.
    Jesus
H. Christ, the man is hung! Given his height, this shouldn’t surprise me in the
least,