Biggest Player (Not Yours #2) Read Online Sara Ney

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Not Yours Series by Sara Ney
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Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
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“You’re seriously pissed about this?” He sounds perplexed. “I just wanted to impress you.”

I sigh, tossing the bag back into the trash, where it belongs. “You didn’t have to lie to impress me, Dex. It’s the effort that counts.”

The lasagna could have seriously been a gross pile of slop, and I would have been thrilled he’d attempted it.

He takes a step closer, his expression earnest. “I know, I know. I just thought . . .” Dex shakes his head. “I don’t know—I thought that you’d think I was more serious about dating you if I did something special and went through all the trouble.”

I soften a little—just a little, teensy bit—at the sincerity shining in his eyes.

“I already think you’re serious about us. People are allowed to change their minds, and I know we started off on the wrong foot, but . . .” I step closer to him, walking into his open arms. “You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not. I like you for you, even if you can’t cook Italian food.”

He visibly relaxes. “Really? You don’t hate me?”

Hate would be a bit harsh, eh?

“No, I don’t hate you for lying about fake cooking. But next time you have something to tell me, maybe tell me the truth.”

He chuckles, looking down at the floor. “Deal. I promise, no more lies.”

My eyes roam to the counter across the kitchen where flour is generously dusted. “And I’m not helping you clean this mess up.”

“You’re not?”

I shake my head. “No.”

His hands go to my hips. “Are you sure?”

Dex picks me up, carrying me to the counter space where the rolling pin, flour, and measuring cups are strewn about. Lifts me so my ass is on the cold stone surface.

“I think you are going to help me clean this up.”

“You literally set me in your mess.” I try to glance backward. “There’s flour all over my ass cheeks.”

“I can help you with that.” Dex steps between my legs, pulling me so everything is at the edge of the countertop—all my best parts. Bare legs because I hadn’t gotten to the part of the program where I put all my clothes back on.

Just my top.

“You’re good enough to eat.”

Speaking of eating. “You haven’t fed me dessert yet.”

He leans into me, so tall his hard-on and pelvis are pressed into the apex of my thighs.

With hot breath against my ear he murmurs, “How about I give you a taste right now?”

A taste . . .

His hands slide down my sides, gripping my hips firmly before adjusting my position on the counter. The stone might be cold against my skin, but the heat between us more than makes up for it.

Damn, he’s sexy.

Dex’s lips find mine in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth, both of us suddenly hungry all over again. His big rough hands travel up my thighs, spreading them wider as he steps even closer still.

I can feel his hard length as it strains through the fabric of his pants.

“Stay right here,” he whispers with a wicked smile, then turns and goes to the fridge. He stands in front of it for several seconds while he searches, finally holding up a canister of whipped cream.

Victory.

Shaking the can vigorously, he’s back between my legs. He sprays a dollop onto my inner thigh. I gasp at the sudden chill. At the sudden delight. At the anticipation.

It makes my breath hitch watching him.

Before I can say a word, his mouth is back on me—on my skin—warm and ravenous, licking and sucking the sweet cream.

The sensation has me shivering, electricity shooting through my body, my hands instinctively clutching the edge of the counter for support. Transfixed, I watch as his tongue works its way up my stomach, pushing my shirt up, all the while leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“You are way too good at this.”

He pauses long enough to glance up at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You taste like I want to taste more of you.”

A sudden burst of boldness has me pulling my shirt up and over my head. I toss it to the kitchen floor, then unhook my bra. Arching my back as his mouth moves higher.

I sound as if I’ve just run a mile, my breathing ragged.

I feel needy and greedy.

Dex’s fingers slide over my flesh, slipping between my legs to find me already wet and ready.

His touch is gentle and demanding and driving me wild with eagerness.

I can barely stand it.

Craving closeness, I lean forward, wanting him to touch me all over. I want to kiss him—but I’d rather have him kissing me . . . if you catch my drift.

Dex does not disappoint.

With a low growl, he drops to his knees; the whipped cream has melted into a sticky, sweet treat.

My pussy? That’s sticky and sweet, too, and he buries his face in it, tongue licking over my most sensitive spots, shock waves of pleasure coursing through me.


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