Role-Play Games

ROLE-PLAY GAMES

PARKER

T he moment I see her, I slip off my wedding band and tuck it into the front pocket of my pants. She's an unmissable presence, an almost mythical force, seated casually at the bar, jet-black hair shining brightly beneath dim lights, light blue eyes glimmering so vibrant and shocking that you couldn't miss them even in the dark.

I hate to say it because it's such a goddamn cliché, but she moves me. She takes my goddamn breath away.

And I'm ready to fucking choke.

I loosen my tie, clear my throat. My suit jacket's long since been discarded to the back of a chair inside the attached wedding venue, and my sleeves are already rolled up around my forearms.

The after-party crowd from the reception has stumbled into this hotel bar, loud and boozy, shimmering with first-dance bridal glitter. It'll be a rowdy affair, that's for damn sure. The people here are ready for mischief, and that's just not for me.

I'm the kind of guy who's home by six, grilling rib eyes on the cast iron. I'm not the kind of guy who goes around looking for trouble.

But for her... For this night? I'll make an exception.

I shoulder through the guests who have amassed in front of the bar, an amalgamation of satin dresses and navy suits, and pull up the stool to her left, my legs spread wide enough just so that the black high heel on the foot of her crossed leg has to brush against my shin.

"Excuse me. Have we met before?" I murmur.

I lean forward and raise two fingers to the bartender, tilting my head to indicate that I'll have what she's having and she'll also have another.

She takes her damn time acknowledging me, and instead of answering or even looking my way, she tips her martini glass to her lips, finishing the dregs. I watch the tender muscles of her throat work as she swallows.

I think about what else I'd like her to swallow, and my dick practically jumps to attention.

"You'd never forget if we'd met before," she finally says, turning her sea-blue gaze onto me, and just like that, a full shiver runs down my spine.

I could never stand a chance against this woman.

The corners of her glossy bright red lips curl into a hint of a smile. "Believe me."

Believe her? I smile back. "Oh, I do."

She combs her hand through her shiny, jet-black hair, tucking back a lock to further reveal the delicate curve of her cheek and the sparkle of diamond-encrusted emeralds at her ears. A flash of all the sparkling colors on her: black, white, green, and red. When her hair moves, the scent of her perfume flutters past me: jasmine and lemongrass.

A familiar, familiar scent. My favorite, in fact.

I breathe in deeply. "So, are you a guest of the bride or the groom?"

The bartender sets down our drinks.

"You could say both." She lifts her glass for a cheers, and I oblige, clinking mine against hers. "I'm the photographer. But also a guest. It works for me because I like to role-play. You?"

Role-play, indeed. "Both bride and groom as well. I introduced them."

"What're the odds?" Another smile, and she tilts her head, crossed leg bouncing against my own. "My name's Elliot Don— Sheer. Elliot Sheer. And you are?"

Now we're getting somewhere. I bring the drink to my lips, savoring the novel flavor of peppery gin and salty olive juice. Usually, I drink scotch, but I've been known to indulge in a whole manner of things in pursuit of a beautiful woman.

"Parker Donne. Nice to meet you."

Her graceful fingers linger at her glass, delicately circling the rim. "Donne, like the seventeenth century English poet, John Donne?"

I chuckle. "Something like that. But I'm not a poet, I'm a mechanic. Or I was. I've made enough money to retire now."

"You look too young to retire. You can't be older than what? Forty? Fifty? Sixty?"

"Thirty-nine, thanks."

She smirks at that. "You must've made a lot of money then. How'd you do it?"

"Very..." I pick up her hand and glide it around the rim of my glass instead of hers. "Very... carefully."

A flush covers her décolletage, but her words are playful. "Good thing I like 'em rich. Will you buy me something?"

"Any goddamn thing you'd like."

"And will you recite poems to me as well?"

"Only the dirty ones . . ."

"Wow. A Renaissance man." She stirs her gin absently with the olive-skewered toothpick. Then she peeps up beneath dark lashes, coquettish-like. "Would your wife approve of you talking to a strange woman like this?"

The right corner of my mouth threatens to curl upward.

We're in this game together.

But I run my hand over my lips to suppress my smile. Instead, I shake my head. "I don't have a wife, but if I did, I think she'd look just like you.

"Is that right?"

"Yes."

"Unfortunately, I think if I had a husband, he'd look nothing like you. Because you look like you're up to no good, and I don't fuck around with trouble." And yet, her breathless tone belies her words.

I clutch my chest. "You wound me."

"But lucky for you, I have low standards. So you'll do anyway."

I chuckle. "Well, I can make up for a lot with the skill of my hands."

"Ah, yes. Because you're a mechanic."

"Just say the time and place, and I'll be happy to give you a tune-up." I bite back a laugh at how cheesy I sound, and the little glimmer in Elliot's eyes tells me she thinks it's cheesy too.

But we're both playing along.

She reaches into her black leather clutch, flipping the oversized gold latch and rooting inside.

A gray key card appears in her hand, dull against the lacquered red of her nails, and I take it from her, tucking it into my shirt pocket.

"Room 915. Meet me there in ten minutes," she says, her voice low and seductive.

Jackpot. Guess I've performed my part well.

Elliot delicately steps off the bar stool, balancing on the points of her black stilettos, her fingertips lingering at my shoulder. "Oh, and Parker?"

I lift my gaze. "Yes?"

She leans in close so that her lips are at my ear, her breath tickling the skin at the side of my face. "Make sure you leave a big tip when you pay the bill."

With that, she brushes past, leaving nothing but my throbbing erection and the scent of jasmine and lemongrass in her wake.

I grab my phone from my pocket and set a timer. Eight minutes to wait at the bar. Two more minutes to make it to her room.

I flip through my money clip and tip the bartender ten crisp one hundred dollar bills. If she says to tip big, I'll tip big.

By the time I enter the elevator and push the ninth-floor button, my heart is tripping in my chest. And my dick is harder than a rock.

I've never responded to any other woman this way in my entire adult life.

And I doubt I ever will.

Elliot

I put a timer on my phone, ten minutes exactly, but I'm positive he'll be punctual to the fucking second.

He's got that desperate look in his eyes.

And I'd recognize it because I've got it too. Damn. Maybe even more than him. I mean, all it takes is one look from the guy, and I'm soaking my panties.

There's just something about the way he carries himself. I couldn't keep my eyes off him the entire time I was working the crowd at the reception. He certainly doesn't seek the spotlight, but you can't help but notice him.

Maybe it's a certain kind of confidence in how he moves, or maybe it's an unusual kind of sensitivity I've never seen in a man before. Or maybe it's just that he's six foot four with thick-ass forearms and a head full of ash-brown hair.

That part definitely doesn't hurt.

But whatever it is . . .

I want those forearms around me. I want my fingers through that ash-brown hair.

I fiddle with my naked ring finger, missing the bands that are usually there. It's so strange to have it off. I don't think I've removed them even once since I first put them on a year ago.

But isn't it fun to play games with a tall, dark, and handsome stranger? In my head, it sure is. And I love to play out all the fantasies in my head.

Through the cracked door of the bathroom, the glint of the silver vibrator I packed in my toiletry bag catches my eye. At first, I hesitate... he'll be here any minute.

And then I'm decisive: he'll be here any minute.

This is my fantasy. And his role is to fulfill it.

I snatch the vibrator and head over to the bed. I settle against the headboard and reach beneath my skirt, pulling the black material up around my thighs. Then, I click the little button, and instantly, the sensations pulsate against my clit. I roll the smooth round head up and down and add some pressure until I've hit just the right spot, rocking my hips and biting my lip to fight off a groan.

I haven't even taken my panties off, but as I work the toy against me, I can already feel how wet my pussy is getting. My clit begins to ache with need, and my nipples harden like glass.

I'm tempted to slip the vibrator through the side of my panties, pushing it directly against my bare skin, but I hold off for another moment.

He'd better get here fucking soon, or the show's gonna be over.

Just the thought of him opening that door and haunting my entryway with his big, strong body rockets my orgasm closer to the edge.

And that's exactly when I hear it. The little electrical whir of the lock.

My heart races, and little jolts and spurts of sensation ricochet up my body when he appears, his shoulders practically as wide as the door.

"You're starting without me?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

He makes quick strides to the bed.

"Mmm..." My eyes flutter shut at the pressure against my clit. "You took too long. You're late."

At that moment, both of our alarms go off. He glances over at my phone, now resting on the nightstand, taps the screen to quiet it, and then reaches in his pocket for his own.

He gives me a sly look. Because he is right on time. But I like to tease.

"Hurry," I whisper, rocking my hips.

He roughly grabs his tie and yanks it off, flinging it to the ground. Then I watch with heavy eyes as he unbuttons his shirt from top to bottom, revealing the massive hard plane of his chest. Rock solid with a handful of dark hair between his pecs to an even more tempting line of dark hair trailing downward from his belly button.

What is it about a man unbuttoning his shirt that's just so, so sexy? I let out a moan, an involuntary escape.

When his hands go to the button of his pants, I'm practically drooling. He drops them to the floor and steps out of them, exposing his navy boxer briefs over heavily muscled thighs.

Then, finally, he drapes his body above mine, one arm tensed beside my pillow, his knee rested beside my hip on the mattress.

I wrap my free hand around his neck, pulling him toward me. He presses his lips against mine in a kiss so slow and luxurious that a whirlwind of feelings circles my belly. His stubble scratches the sensitive skin of my lips, but I don't care. It only makes me want more.

I want him to leave his mark.

I exert pressure until the rest of his body collapses onto the bed, legs straddling me, body hovering, his hand finding its way down the length of my frame and pressing on top of my own hand, pressing the vibrator harder into me.

I let out a surprised cry at the shock of sensations that shoot up to my belly, but he catches the sound with his mouth.

Tongues are flicking and swirling, and as he holds his hand flat and firm over mine, he begins to move it in a circular motion.

"Get on top of me," he gruffs and taps my hand with the vibrator. "And don't let go of this."

In a daze, I follow his directions. He rolls to his back, and I clamber on top, my knees on either side of his hips. When his covered erection makes contact with my core, we both groan in response, his hips bucking against me. It takes everything in me not to drop the vibrator and lose all control.

Most men couldn't order me around like this. But with a man like this? I'd do anything.

He jostles me with his hips, then hooks his fingers into the crotch of my panties, yanking them to the side and exposing the sensitive folds of my pussy. I swallow hard when he places the vibrator against my naked skin, prompting me to hold it there.

Then he rakes his hands up my torso all the way to the straps of my black dress, and he jerks them down. Expertly, he unhooks my bra, untangling it from me and leaving me naked from the waist up and the hips down, save for the bunched-up dress across my midsection.

"Lean forward, I want your nipples in my mouth," he commands.

Again, if it were any other man.

But I'm already complying, my tits dangling in his face, and he wraps his lips around one of my nipples, flicking and swirling the sensitive bud until the sensation brightens to a piercing gold.

He reaches below and unearths his cock.

I'm already leaning forward, so he uses the space between us to hold his cock at the base and push his hips upward to penetrate me. The first breach into my pussy practically takes my breath away. My eyelids flutter.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so good wrapped around my cock," he groans as I'm fully seated onto him.

He reaches for my breast, one hand squeezing while the other hand grasps the padded flesh of my ass. "Ride me."

Without further prompting, I begin to bounce on him with abandon, my head falling back, my free hand grasping for purchase, digging mindlessly into his shoulder. I'm practically whimpering as I grind, our hips rocking in syncopation. I'm stuffed to the brim, and I couldn't stop it if I wanted to.

At this point, the vibrations from my toy shoot all the way into my throat. I swallow hard because an orgasm is seeping into my nerves, accented by every thrust of Parker's cock.

" Coming ..." I strain to get the words out, my eyes squeezed tight.

"Good girl," he almost growls, jolting me up and down on top of him.

He doesn't dare change his rhythm.

The orgasm blossoms in the pit of my stomach and then unfurls throughout my body before exploding.

" Fuck . . . " I groan as my body stiffens.

Sharp sensations pump through me until everything finally subsides.

The vibrator rolls to the side of the bed, and my body slackens like an unused puppet.

But he doesn't stop.

Instead, he pushes me off his hips and presses me into the mattress, head in the pillow, ass in the air, hands gripping either side of my hip.

He's the one riding me .

"Now that you're warmed up, I know you can do it again, babe..."

"Who're you calling babe..." I mumble into the pillow, but even as I say the words— smack .

He cracks his hand across my ass. I cry out and buck against him.

His relentless, rhythmic thrusts build something unmistakable in my core. And he's right—once I come the first time, I'm usually primed for the next.

This time, a low moan escapes right from my diaphragm. His thrusts grow erratic, and I know he'll come as well.

"Come with me... come with me..." I chant as the sensations overwhelm and threaten to explode.

"Can't get enough of you," he grunts, and when my second orgasm peaks, I can feel him coming as well, circling his hips and pushing into me like his life depends on it.

He thrusts a few more times before groaning, finally slowing to a halt.

My pussy is now sopping and quivering, and I whimper as he slowly pulls out.

He lands beside me on the bed, pulling me into his embrace.

"That was fun," he pants. He grabs my hand, threading our fingers together. "But I don't like it when you take off your ring."

"I didn't like it either. But the role-playing is hot," I murmur, completely spent.

He kisses the back of my neck and then rolls off the bed, fishing my ring out of my discarded clutch. He kneels in front of the mattress and holds out his hand for mine. When I give it to him, he slips the ring back on.

"I love you," he says softly, kissing the tips of my fingers.

And I notice he's already wearing his ring as well.

"I love you too. Thanks for role-playing with me."

"You know I'll do anything for you. But I'm ready to get out of here. Shall we go home?"

I lift a brow. "Go home with you?" And I pull him toward me for a kiss. "Any time, stranger."