Marked (Playing Games Book 1)

by Rebecca Barber

  “Hey, Brett!”

  “Logan! What the hell are you doing here?” I heard a man’s voice reply with a thick accent.

  “Got caught in the storm.”

  “I’d say.”

  “Any chance you can let me in for a bit? My friend here fell and hurt herself. I need to get her cleaned up.”

  “Ah man, you know I can’t…”

  “Come on, Brett. We’ll be ten minutes. Fifteen tops. I just need to get her cuts cleaned up and bandaged then we’ll be out of your hair.”

  Even though he was laying it on a bit thick, I was grateful for his quick thinking. All I could hope was that whoever this Brett guy was, he’d let us go wherever Logan planned to take us. Digging my fingers into his hips, I reminded him I was still dangling there.

  “Can you put me down?” I asked quietly.

  Logan jolted me, resetting me on his shoulder instead of setting my feet back on the ground.

  “Fifteen minutes, Logan.”

  “Thanks, Brett. We won’t be long.”

  Next thing I knew, a gate was buzzing, and we were inside. When the rain stopped pounding on my arse, Logan let me slide down his very impressive body, my nipples pebbling as I felt the hard ridge of his cock against my stomach.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he growled.

  “Look at you like what?”

  “Like you want to lick me from head to toe.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He shrugged as I wrapped my arms around my body, trying to ward off the cold that was seeping into my bones.

  Gulping, I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat. “Follow me.”

  For perhaps the first time, I did as I was asked without objecting or complaining. I was blaming the sight in front of me. The sexy arse of Logan Oliver had me following along like he was the Pied Piper and I was powerless against his raw sex appeal and charm.

  Rounding the corner, I came to a grinding halt. “Holy shit! Are we where I think we are?”

  “Depends. Where do you think we are?” He smirked as he pushed through the doors, full or arrogance. He was walking around full of power and authority, acting like he owned the place. He was more than a little proud of himself.

  “We’re in the locker room. At the MCG.”

  “That’s exactly where we are.”

  “Well fuck me sideways!” I exclaimed as I walked around the room, taking in the lockers lining the walls. Sitting down on the bench seat, my eyes trailed Logan as he ducked into an office only to emerge with a first aid kit moments later.

  As he dropped to his knees in front of me, I sucked in a deep breath. Inside I was trying not to panic or jump his bones. Talking myself off the ledge was taking every ounce of willpower I had.

  “Show me your hand.”

  Lifting my arm, I turned over my hand and closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see what he was doing. It was bad enough feeling the push and pull and stinging. After what seemed to take forever, I felt a soft kiss against the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist.

  “You can open your eyes now, Tasha. It’s all cleaned up.”

  Cracking my eyes open, I saw the most beautiful sight. I must’ve been dreaming or drugged or something. Girls like me didn’t end up in situations like this. When he reached out and tucked my hair behind my ear, my chest tightened.

  “There she is.”

  My hand was cleaned and wrapped up with all traces of blood gone. “Thank you,” I said gratefully, leaning down to press a soft kiss against his lips because I just couldn’t help myself. And when Logan’s hand gripped the back of my neck and tugged me towards him, my knees widened to let his shoulders fit between as his tongue snaked its way into my mouth, the duel intensifying, neither of us refusing to concede.

  Without breaking our kiss, he grabbed my hips in his huge hands and tugged me against him. I heard the moan escape me when my hot centre met his hardness. Shifting his grip, Logan stood, taking me with him, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me through the empty locker room and into a smaller room. Rubbing my heavy boobs against him like a bitch in heat, I needed more. I didn’t care where we were or what happened in the future, all I knew was right now I needed to ease the throbbing inside me, and Logan was the only one who could help me with this particular problem.

  Grasping his wet shirt, I peeled it off his back. The moment I saw his skin, mine broke out in goosepimples. “Someone’s desperate.”

  Grinding myself against him, I smiled as I dropped his shirt on the floor with a wet thud. “From the feel of that,” I teased, rubbing even more intensely, “I’m not the only one.”

  “Woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

  “Maybe,” I taunted as I peeled my own top off. “But what a way to go.”

  “Fuck I love your tits,” he growled against my skin as he pushed the cups of my bra down, freeing my aching nipples before latching on and sucking hard.

  While his tongue toyed with my left breast, his hand massaged the right. Arching my back, I pushed my chest out towards him even further. The man’s hands were incredible. Only a close second to that magical tongue that was pushing me closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

  “Don’t stop. For the love of God. Please don’t stop,” I begged shamelessly.

  “Stop this?” he asked as he tweaked a nipple at the same time he lapped at the other. I was going to explode, and he hadn’t even got my pants off yet.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LOGAN

  She was stunning. Breathtaking. Mesmerising even. She was so responsive. The way she moaned and moved with my every touch. I could just sit here and watch her for days. But my weeping, aching cock would probably drop off.

  Even though we didn’t have much time, I was determined to make her come just playing with her tits. Nipping at the soft skin, I knew it’d mark her, and it drove her closer and closer to the edge. When her fingernails scratched my scalp as she tugged roughly on my hair, I knew she wasn’t going to be able to last much longer.

  “L-l-Logan…”

  As I pinched one nipple and sucked the other, I felt her shudder before she pulled my head away from her chest. Licking my lips, I looked up at her through hooded eyes. She was flushed from the tips of her ears right down to her exposed tits. The tits that I could already see marks forming on from my teasing.

  “Kiss me,” she commanded, and there was no way I was going to turn an invitation like that down.

  Reaching up, I captured her lips and for a second, I let her think she was in control. She wasn’t, but there was no harm in her believing she was for a minute or two. When I felt her fingernails scratch against my shoulders, all bets were off.

  Leaning back, I grabbed her legs and tipped her backwards. Fucked if I knew how I was going to get her jeans off in a hurry, but one tug on the string holding my sweatpants up had them dropping to the floor in a wet heap.

  I popped the button on her jeans and dragged down the zipper but was distracted the moment her hot hand wrapped around my shaft. She twisted her wrist along my length, and I nearly came like a teenager when her thumb spread the bead of precum over the head.

  Swatting her hand away, I ordered her to lift her hips. Peeling the wet denim down her legs was a lesson in patience. I sucked a huge breath in when I spotted the barely-there, see-through black lace. The moment I got her jeans past her butt, I could smell her scent, her want in the air. It was addictive.

  “Logan! Hurry. Up,” she demanded as she kicked her lithe little legs, trying to hurry the process along.

  Untangling them from around her feet, I kissed the lace-covered heaven between her legs as she withered on the treatment table. Taking a fistful of my hair, Tasha pulled me away from her and forced me to meet her lust-filled eyes.

  “Needy, are we?” I teased, my own voice barely recognisable.

  With a mischievous glint in her eye, she bent her legs, forcing me to step back. I watched, hypnotised as she trailed he
r silver, sparkly nails down between her boobs, across her flat stomach and snuck under the lace barrier. Her eyes fell closed and her mouth dropped open. When her hips bucked upwards, I knew her fingertips had found her needy clit, and I wasn’t waiting a second longer.

  Grabbing my wallet, I fished out a condom and sheathed myself. Pushing my thumb through the wet, centre panel of her panties, they came apart in my hand. Pulling her up, I bent her over the table and slammed into her from behind.

  “You’re. So. Fucking. Wet,” I grunted out between thrusts.

  Tasha pushed back, begging for more. I don’t know where it came from, but I lifted my hand and brought it down against her arse, earning me a squeal, and a tightening around my cock as a bright red handprint appeared on her creamy white arse.

  It took barely seconds after seeing it before I was coming – and coming hard. With my balls emptied and my breathing laboured, I slumped forward on top of Tasha and kissed her neck.

  “That was…” I began but had no words. For a smart guy, I was pretty stupid when I was balls-deep in a beautiful woman.

  “Fucking incredible, I’d say,” she finished for me breathlessly.

  “I was going to say, just the beginning.” Wincing, I reluctantly pulled out.

  After taking care of the condom, I tugged my wet sweatpants back on. The cold fabric had my balls shrivelling. Quickly, I helped Tasha dress, well as much as I could. If I thought getting her wet jeans off was hard, getting them back on was near impossible.

  “You’re not helping.” She laughed, swatting my hands away.

  “What do you want me to do then? How do I help?”

  “Keep your hands to yourself for a start. You’re great at taking my clothes off, Logan, but you’re not very helpful when it comes to putting them back on.” She was one hundred percent right. I wasn’t helping at all. If anything, I was just getting in her way. But watching her get flustered was just too much fun. She was so freaking adorable.

  Stepping back, I found my shirt and pulled it back over my head. Using the moment to think through what the hell was going on, my mind slipped into overdrive. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d gone searching for a moment of clarity at the least opportune moment.

  I liked fucking Tasha. That was a no-brainer. But it was more than that. I liked hanging out with her. She was funny. She was sassy. And not once had she asked how much money I had or what I could do for her. If anything, she seemed to want nothing to do with that part of my life. She was more excited about the locker room than any one person should be. Realising the truth that was bent over right in front of me was one thing, being able to convince Tasha about it was another.

  Watching her fight her way back into her top was entertaining to say the least, let alone the argument she was engaged in with the clingy red top. “Need a hand?” I offered, pretending to be a gentleman when I was anything but. The way her boobs bounced, the ones marked with tiny bite marks, marks I’d put there with my teeth and tongue had me completely captivated. Those tits could bring a grown man to his knees.

  “I’m quite capable, thank you very much.”

  When she was dressed, she rung out her hair, leaving a puddle at her feet. “Come on. Let me get you home and dried off.”

  “Throw in some food and I’ll consider it,” she threw back.

  “You drive a hard bargain. But you’ve got yourself a deal. You name the place and I’ll dial the number.”

  “What? You’re not even going to cook for me?”

  “Not even going to pretend to.”

  “Fine then. But I want dessert too.”

  Tasha was something when she thought she’d won the battle. Her problem was, though, she was getting ahead of herself. As I led her back down the hallway towards the exit, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, needing to keep her close. Burying my head in her hair, I couldn’t stop myself from having the last word. “Sweetheart, you are dessert.”

  We made it back to my place all clothes in place and no arrests for indecent exposure. To be honest, I was kind of impressed by our restraint.

  While I ordered our dinner, Tasha jumped in the shower and warmed up. When she emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a pair of my boxers and hoodie, I don’t think I’d ever seen anything more stunning in my life. She just fit into my world.

  Bryce bumbled through the door, talking noisily on his phone, breaking me out of the trance I’d fallen into staring at her. Like anyone could blame me. He had barely shut the door when the doorbell chimed. Before I could grab my wallet, Tasha was nudging me out of the way and paying for our food.

  When the delivery boy vanished, Tasha turned around looking entirely too smug and satisfied for my liking. “I thought I was ordering dinner?”

  “You did. We just didn’t agree on who was paying.”

  She sauntered across the room, the plastic bag full of Thai dangling from her hands. “Oh, hey Bryce. I’ve read a lot about you. Not all of it good either,” She smiled flashing him a wicked wink and set the food on the bench. “I’m Tasha. A friend of Logan’s. You joining us for dinner?”

  What was she doing? The last thing I wanted to do was share her with my roommate. Flashing a ‘don’t-even-think-about-it’ look over her head, Bryce chuckled. “That would be great. Thanks for the invite. What are we having?” the arsehole asked, dropping into the bar stool next to her and resting his hand across the back of her chair.

  Grabbing plates, silverware and drinks, I set everything up and we sat around eating and chatting. When Bryce decided to turn the conversation to football, I suddenly felt anxious. I’d never raised the subject with her. Maybe I was avoiding it, too scared to know what she thought. Or maybe I was just enjoying being a normal guy around her. Either way, my denial bubble was about to burst.

  “So, naughty Natasha, I’ve gotta ask. Football? Yes or No?”

  After a few mouthfuls of her water, Tasha wiped her mouth with a napkin and focused her attention completely on him. “Yes or no what?”

  “Are you a fan?”

  “Isn’t it illegal not to be in Melbourne?”

  “Good point.” Score one to Tasha. “Okay then, smarty pants. Which team do you follow?”

  Her eyes darted to me, searching for something. Maybe approval. With a shrug, I silently encouraged her to continue. If I was being honest with myself, I was desperate to know her answer. What I did know about Tasha was that she wasn’t likely to say something just because she thought it was something I wanted to hear.

  “Um…”

  “Sorry. Didn’t catch that. Which team did you say you followed?”

  Through gritted teeth, she conceded. “Fine. I grew up following the Hawks.”

  Spitting my water out, I covered myself with it. I could barely believe what I was hearing. “The Hawks?” I squeaked.

  “Yeah. My dad was a fan and so were my uncles, so it was kinda just expected.”

  “And you just went along with it?” Bryce asked. It was like he was baiting her. Daring her to dig herself even deeper.

  “Not exactly.”

  The Hawks were our biggest rivals. We’d had a history filled with hatred between the two clubs. It had started back before I was born, but even to this day when we took the field against them, you were guaranteed to take even harder hits and have a little bloodshed.

  “Why are you on the Hawks bandwagon then?”

  “Um…” There was something going on here and now I was desperate to know the rest. She was trying to avoid the conversation. Not something I was used to with her. She usually stood up to everything and everyone, giving as good as she got. This was more than a little odd.

  Clearing my throat, I set my fork down, suddenly not hungry anymore. “Why the Hawks?” I asked, encouraging her to go on.

  “Fine. You asked. When I was about fifteen and really getting into it, I liked the players, okay?”

  “The players? Which ones?” I was digging myself a hole deeper than the Grand Canyon, but I couldn’t stop
myself.

  “Luke. Lance. Jarryd. Cyril.”

  “Why?” I asked in the same moment Bryce spat out, “Are you kidding me?”

  “Why does it matter?” And there was my girl. Instead of conceding, instead of being talked around in circles or pressured, she stood up and kept swinging.

  “I’m just curious.” I was curious, but it was more than curiosity. I wanted to know what I was up against. I’d already conceded that this chick had gotten under my skin and I wanted more. Now I needed to know why them.

  “Fine. You asked for it. Jarryd seemed like a genuinely nice guy. Cyril and Lance, those guys were mesmerising to watch. They played in another league. They were entertaining as hell. You happy now?” Her question was directed at Bryce, but her eyes were firmly locked with mine.

  “You’re right.”

  “About what?” I think Bryce’s agreement caught her off guard.

  “Jarryd is a good guy. And even though I’m contractually obliged to hate them, even I liked watching Cyril and Lance play. When they were on, especially on days they were both on fire, no one was going to stop them.”

  “Bryce!” I was surprised he agreed so easily.

  “Oh, come on, Logan. You know I’m right. How often have we watched their highlight reel wishing we could do even half of what they could?” I would’ve protested even more but he was right. I didn’t know anyone who didn’t like watching them play. Well, maybe their opponents on the day but after the fact, even they appreciated their talent. It was undeniable.

  “And Luke?” I asked tentatively, not one hundred percent sure I wanted to know the answer.

  “He was hot.”

  “He was hot, was he?”

  “There was something about the arms. The muscles, the tattoo on the inside of his bicep…yum.”

  “Um hello?” Bryce clicked his fingers in front of Tasha’s face, and she grinned the cheekiest, cheesiest grin I’d seen since I’d been at primary school, I almost collapsed. “You’re drooling over some has-beens muscles, and your boy is standing there right in front of you.”

  “My boy?”

  My stomach clenched. The teasing and taunting had all been fun and games up until now, but I had a feeling it was all over.