When A Playboy Loves

|| 46.

Utianle

Standing in front of King's wardrobe with a towel around my chest, I shivered while waiting for him to bring out one of his big T-shirts for me to wear. With him convinced that I looked better in his shirts than my nightwear, I had stopped wearing them.

"Did you like it?" I asked with pursed lips, my hands coming to wrap around myself.

I didn't need to elaborate for him to know what I was talking about, he had been quiet since we left the bathroom where I almost slipped and told him about Amber Lee. Would he have taken the news in stride?

King paused his search to draw me closer to him, the towel around his waist slipped and fell to the ground but he made no move to pick it up. I could feel his erection pressing against my stomach, I gulped, my fingers reaching up to caress the skin of my neck.

I was partially shocked that I had been able to take all of him without gagging, without stopping. I almost did but it would have encouraged him to keep holding back which was what I was trying to avoid. I wanted all of him. It was up to me to decide how much of him I could handle, not him.

As he stood with his arms around my waist, no words said, I realised that I might have done a terrible job. I did all I knew: enough spit, no teeth except to tease and swallow. Did I freak him out by swallowing? He had wanted to withdraw just when I could feel his warm, salty semen but I didn't let him.

"If it was that bad, just say it," I murmured against his chest when he remained silent.

King took a step back to allow him a better view of my face and sighed. "No, it wasn't." He laced our fingers together, bringing my knuckles to his lips. "I didn't just like it, I loved it. It was perfect." He scattered feather-like kisses all over my wrists and said, "You need to stop doubting yourself."

"I don't," I muttered defensively. Okay, maybe I did but it was only when it came to bedroom matters. I wasn't as experienced as him or the women he had been with in the past. "You have been so quiet, that's all."

Letting go of my hands, he said, "Shock. The aftereffect of receiving the best blowjob of my life." He resumed his search and in a few minutes, he was holding up a big shirt.

My hands raised to allow him pull the shirt over my head and when he was done, he pulled a short over his waist. The muscles on his back flexed when he bent to retrieve something from the wardrobe and I voiced out the question that crept into my mind.

"What's your body count?"

King's body tensed, he took a few seconds to turn around and when our gazes met, his face was blank. In one of his hands was a bag which he tapped an uneven beat on.

He shrugged, his eyes still holding mine captive. "I don't know. I don't keep count."

"Okay," I replied with a tight-lipped smile.

I had a strong suspicion he had an idea but didn't want to freak me out with his answer. It was a smart decision on his part because even if I didn't care about the number, it might have haunted me. I would stay awake at night, going over the figures, working myself up over something I couldn't change.

The distance between us was intact as King asked, "What about you, how many?"

"You are the third."

His eyes widened, he blinked morosely and I laughed, it probably paled in comparison to the number of women he has slept with. I inched closer to him, needing the warmth only his muscular body could provide me.

"Does my body count bother you?" His hand hovered above my buttocks and my head angled to get a better view of his face.

Laughing at the relief that flooded his face when I shook my head, a tug at my heartstring reminded me of the promise I made to myself. I was going to tell him how I felt in the shower but my courage failed.