Playing For Keeps (Checkmate Series Book 4)

by Emilia Finn

  “Things like what?”

  “Well… things like massage, oils, physical therapy, mirror therapy. We could play Bananagrams as a distraction, or take a bath and soak it.”

  “I don’t think I’m allowed to soak it in a bath yet.”

  I smile, because he’s not fighting me anymore. He’s actively participating, and he hasn’t knocked the pot-butter off the counter yet. “So we could wrap it up tight.” Stretching my arm as far as it can go, I collect a large wooden spoon from the drawer and come back to where his strong body leans against the counter. “Your skin and the incision will stay dry, but you’d still get to feel it float in hot water. I could help you massage it – in fact, I read that massaging the end of your leg will help remind your brain where it ends. Right now, your brain hasn’t figured out your leg is gone, so it’s sending signals to a foot that ain’t there, but if you massage the end every day, soon, your brain will figure it out. The pain should get easier.”

  “Dee, we’re talking about pain in a limb that literally doesn’t exist. Look.” He drops his eyes and studies his bare foot. “I’m wiggling my toes – the toes that aren’t there. My brain is telling them to wiggle, so they are. But they don’t fucking exist! I bet the remedy doesn’t exist, either.”

  “Do you wonder if maybe your amputated leg is wiggling in a random lab right now?”

  “Andi!”

  Laughing, I add flour to my bowl, then cocoa powder and eggs. “If you can’t have a sense of humor about it, then what’s the point? You don’t want to be unhappy for the rest of your life, do you?” I glance up and meet his eyes. “We’ve already established you’re not a cripple. You’re young, I can still count your abs, and when you’re fully healed up, I bet you can dive again, so this massive thing that you think is the end of the world is merely a shitty weekend, no?”

  “A shitty weekend?” His eyes grow. “A shitty weekend? Have you lost your damn mind? A shitty weekend is losing your cell in the public bathrooms while in a club. A shitty weekend is getting ordered to clean the tanks at the station because Alex and Oz are besties and run the station like a dictatorship. Unless you’re in their club, you’re shit outta luck. A shitty weekend is being able to run the fucking marathon I wanted to run, and missing my personal best time by twenty minutes. Losing my leg is a fucking life sentence.”

  “No.” Patting the flour from my hands and clanging the handcuffs, I step into his space and stand on the very tips of my toes. “Dementia is a life sentence. Losing your mom to dementia is a life sentence. You’re already serving that one; don’t go searching for something else to kick you down. Here.” I scoop up far too much raw batter with my finger and slide it into his mouth. “Get a head start. Let go of the pain. Love me back.” I chase his lips with my own and slide my tongue over his until I get a taste of the batter. “Delicious.”

  Winking, I step down and continue mixing. “Can you turn the oven on? I’m ready to pour and eat my feelings.” Bending low and folding my arm back to front, I search for the brownie tray in the storage space beneath the island while Riley shakily moves the three feet expanse and flicks on the oven. “Tastes good, right?”

  “Mm.” He doesn’t want to be impressed, but these brownies are the shit. Add a little extra and a woman ready to pig out with you, and a man has to be in a good space in his life – with or without both his legs. “This is super fucking illegal, Dee.”

  I roll my eyes. “You gonna tell the cops? Because I’m not.”

  “I am the cops!”

  He leans into me with gritted teeth and sparkling eyes that speak of fury, but I still push my lips against his, laugh against his mouth, and pat his chest when he can’t resist. “Word on the street is you quit. You can’t threaten me any more than I can threaten you. In fact, I should citizen’s arrest your ass for squatting in the house I started squatting in. I was here first, and you’re up in my space without my permission.”

  “Shut up. Give me this.” He slides the tray from beneath my bowl the very second I finish pouring and tosses it into the oven. “I’m not getting stoned with you, Dee. You can do it yourself out here. I’m going to get bolt cutters from the garage, I’m going to cut us apart, then I’m going to bed. Alone.”

  I pull him around slowly and press his back against the island counter. A month or two ago, I’d have already crash tackled him, climbed up until I found a comfortable spot, then I would have let him feast in the most delectable way. But that’s not the way things are now. Instead, I pull him around until he’s steady, then I step into his space, tilt my head to the side, and stare up into light green eyes. “I don’t know why you constantly fight me on this. Ever since you tossed me out of your hospital room, I just figure; if you’re going to be alone, and I’m going to be alone, then why shouldn’t we be alone together, ya know? Why do you need to fight this war by yourself?” I stroke his strong jaw. “There’s no rule book that says so.”

  “Because this isn’t your war,” he admits on a sigh. “Because it would be a sin to tie you down.”

  “No.” I run my fingertips through the back of his hair. “The only sin is telling me you don’t love me back.”

  Thirty minutes later and a soft giggle coming from the man who’s been eating the raw batter straight from the bowl, I finish cutting the cooked brownies and stacking them on plates. From his firm ‘no, I won’t do this,’ to hungrily licking the bowl in ways that make my heart sing and my vagina quiver, Riley grabs his crutches and slides his butt off the edge of the counter. He pushes them under his arms and grabs a plate of warm brownies, then his missing leg moves forward as though to take a step.

  His eyes widen.

  His brain catches up.

  His heart breaks as he sets the plate back down.

  “Can you get those?”

  “Yeah.” I squeeze his hand and pick up the brownies. Stopping at the fridge for the rest of the bottle of wine I opened earlier, I throw a salacious grin over my shoulder that I hope distracts him from the realization he can’t just take a step, and give him the ‘come get me’ eyes.

  A little shaky on the crutches, but seemingly unphased by it, our cuffed hands rattle as we make our way down the hall and past my bedroom where Nacho and Ninja lie huddled together on my bed. Ninja encircles Nacho, her much bigger body creating a crib of sorts for my high-maintenance pig on this snowy winter night.

  The windows are freezing up, the snow falling in constant flurries outside just as the weather report predicted, but inside this house, the fire burns hot in the living room and Riley’s presence just behind me warms my back.

  I stop at his bedroom door and quell the odd tingles that pop in my belly. Opening the door and stepping aside, I stifle a giggle at his goofy grin as he swings past and takes much bigger steps on the crutches than he should. “You gotta be careful, babe.” I follow close as he tugs me along and set the plate and wine on the end of his bed. “Swear to all the mini-pig gods, we’re in here to eat brownies and make your pain go away. If you fall because you were being dumb on your crutches, I might murder you.”

  He tosses his crutches so far away, I just know I’ll have to get up and fetch them for him again soon, but for now, he turns with hungry eyes and leans a little too heavily against me. “The pain’s already gone, Dee. You have magic hands. You fixed it.”

  His hands rest on the sides of my neck, squeezing, but not so tight that I’m scared. His nose runs along mine, his lashes kissing the tops of my cheeks as he simply… breathes me in. “Thanks for not quitting on me, Deedee.”

  I choke on a cry and slam my lips over his. Lifting my hands to his neck and ignoring the way the cuffs bite against my wrist, I slide my tongue over his and swallow his sigh. “I’ll never quit on you. I tried, but I can’t. My heart won’t let me.”

  Sliding his unbound hand down to my back, Riley glances over my shoulder to make sure the bed is clear, then pushes me back until I crawl onto the soft mattress I’ve missed in ways I never want to feel again.
“Lie down with me.” Even one legged, he helps position me against the multitude of pillows at the top of his bed, then he pulls the plate of brownies closer. “I’ve never in my life been stoned, Dee.” His finger slides along the buttons of my flannel shirt.

  He pops one, then the next.

  Then the next.

  He opens it up and exposes my belly and missing bra. My stomach drops with nerves as his finger slides along the taut skin, only to dip into the top of my pants, but the warmth that oozes in my blood is enough for me to allow this to happen.

  “I was so mad at you, Dee, because I loved you with my heart, and you told me you’re not interested.”

  “I’m interested.” I drag his eyes away from my belly and up to meet mine. “My heart has been invested for way too long.”

  “I can’t let you be in love.” He swallows and sends his Adam’s apple bobbing. “It wouldn’t be fair to you, but I can love you. I can show you a nice time while I eat brownies off your belly. And when you explode, I can eat that, too.” Reaching out, he remains on his one leg and leans over the bed. He takes a brownie from the plate and crumbles it over my belly. The mess makes his brows tighten. The emotions warring inside his brain are visible from the outside; this boy scout is half way to stoned, so eating chocolate from my skin sounds pretty damn good, but the perfectionist neat freak in him is having second thoughts at the mess on his fancy bedspread.

  Being stoned and horny wins.

  Diving in, he slides his tongue along the ridges of my belly, collecting crushed brownie as he passes, and forces my body to fold from the potent sensation. Our arms fight, because of my stupid handcuff idea, and my legs pull up until my knees practically touch his shoulder. “I don’t know how to live my new life, Deedee. I don’t know that I’ll ever make love to you again, but I can still show you a good time.” His face comes up to mine, his tongue slides past my lips and shares the brownie, but his spare hand slides beneath my pants and into my panties. Without warning, thick fingers slide inside until I cry into his mouth. “Oh my God!”

  “Relax, Dee.” His fingers slide in, out, fast, then slow. Thick, so fucking thick I could almost come. “I’ve dreamed of this. I’ve dreamed of you.” His lips bite mine, they suckle, then they bite again. “I can hardly sleep anymore, but when I do, I swear, I dream about you.” He separates his fingers, slides two into my pussy, and a third into my asshole without allowing me time to prepare. I bow off the bed, my toes dig into the bedspread, and heat pools heavily in my stomach. “I never got to fuck your ass, and I’m in mourning. Now I’m broken, and nothing will ever fix it.”

  My head swims; pot brownies, Riley’s presence, Riley’s fingers. It’s a fog that settles on my brain and passes over his cryptic words until I’m a quivering mess covered in chocolate cake and frustrated at the limited movement he has because of my pants.

  “Help me.” I lift my hips. “Help me with my pants. I’m gonna come fast. I need you there when I do.”

  “Okay.” He tears his hand from my pants and draws another cry from my chest. Hopping a foot down the bed, he yanks my yoga pants off so hard, I hear the strain and snap of fabric. He tosses them aside and stares at my glistening legs. “So wet, Dee. You already half came.” His eyes come up and meet mine. They’re almost unsure. They’re insecure. “That’s for me?”

  “Mmm.” I sit up on the bed, then stand until crumbs scatter all over the floor. I yank his shirt up his chest. I can’t get it all the way off, since my brilliant handcuff logic has us stuck, but I can get it over his chest, over his shoulders, until I’m met with the body I’ve dreamt about, too. Taking his hips, I spin us so his back is to the bed, then slowly, I lower his sweatpants just low enough I won’t have to fight his weight later.

  His dick springs free of his pants, promising me pleasure my body has only ever known when with him. I gently push him back until he sits on the edge of the bed, then I drop to my knees and take his rock-solid cock between my lips. He cries out, flops back onto the bed, and tugs our bound hands up until it pulls on the ball of my shoulder and makes me laugh. “Stupid idea.”

  The old Riley is back, and the old Riley has zero tolerance for not getting to the fucking point when my lips are wrapped around his cock. His unbound hand goes to my hair and pushes me down until his dick slides down my throat and tears rush to my eyes.

  “Suck me off, Dee. Suck until I explode.”

  “Mm.” I have no words, so I allow his hand to guide me. I allow him to use his good leg to jut up and fill my throat until I gag, then I bring my spare hand down and cup his balls until his dick grows inside my mouth.

  “Oh my God! Wait.” This isn’t an oh my God, that feels fantastic, this is an oh my God, I’m freaking out. Riley shoots back up onto his ass and yanks my hair back until the sting shoots straight down to my pulsing pussy. “Dee! It works!”

  “Huh?” I swipe a hand over my cheek and glance between his dick and his eyes. “What?”

  He fists his dick, squeezes hard enough I almost come just from watching, and forces a drop of pre-cum to slide over the head. “Oh my God, my dick works, Dee. It fucking works!” He lets off a girly-giggle, a legitimate, snorty, belly giggle that can only be the result of too much raw batter. “I thought I was broken!”

  Grabbing me under the armpits, he yanks me up until I sit on his lap.

  I don’t know if his leg hurts. I don’t even know if this’ll work, or if he’ll drop me in a moment, but when his dick touches my core, it sets off a chain reaction of hunger and desperation that I can’t slow.

  I wanted this. I wanted him to let me in.

  Pushing up onto my knees with a goofy grin and a wildly galloping heart, I fist his cock until he cries out, then I line it up and slam down over him so hard, I feel the tip of his dick touch my belly.

  “Jesus! Fuck!” His hands tighten on my hips until I’m positive they’ll bruise, but that only spurs me on. I push his chest until he flops back with an oomph, then I ride his lap and take my pleasure as I grind my clit over his pelvic bone.

  It’s like shots of electricity, like maybe what he feels in his leg, but now it’s pleasurable and zings through my blood. My body quivers from my toes to the tips of my ears, and shivers when his strong hands lift me up and slam me down.

  He’s always so strong, even after having his world shook to the core, his arms still lift me, his chest is still broad and spreads out ahead of me, and with one foot on the floor, he still times his lifts so he slams up inside me as I slide down his dick.

  My shirt is still on, but the buttons are open, my breasts bounce as we continue to slam together, meet in the middle, and start again.

  My orgasm is like fire beneath my skin, it races around and scorches my nerve endings, pulses in circles from my heart, through my belly, and down to my toes. Each time it comes around again, it taps my clit and brings me another step closer to the edge.

  I want to reach around and touch myself. I want to circle my clit and step over the ledge, but Riley’s strong hands on my hips restrict my movements. I yank on the cuffs, and find ridiculous pleasure in the way the metal bites into my wrist and sends power through my blood. “Riley.” He’s hardly even here. He’s hardly present at all as he continues to slam inside me. “Hey, Riley. Give me your hand.”

  “Don’t break it, Dee. Don’t stop in case it breaks again.”

  I yank his hand a second time and hiss at the metal biting my wrist bone. “Riley. Let me use my hand.”

  “I love you so much, Deedee. I’m so sorry I was mean to you.” He crunches his bottom lip between his teeth and uses my body until I can barely breathe. “I never wanted to hurt you. I can’t hurt someone I love.”

  “Riley!” I yank my hand again and dislodge him for the barest second. Reaching between my legs, I slide my fingers over my wildly pulsing clit and cry out. My walls clamp tight around him and my thighs go weak. I touch us where we join, allow his cock to slide along the tips of my fingers, but when his fingers flick ove
r my clit, I explode in his lap.

  Falling forward with a cry, I press my forehead to his chest and crush our hands between his stomach and mine. It’s all I can do to weather the storm of the orgasm tearing my body apart. Riley doesn’t stop pushing up inside me. His leg doesn’t stop lifting, his dick doesn’t slow as my body is thrown over the cliff and slammed against the rocks below.

  Waves of too much pleasure roll through my body, pulling me to the left, to the right, as my core spasms and milks his thick cock. I can’t breathe, can’t talk, can’t see. I can only lie on his broad chest and feel him come inside me. His heart gallops beneath my face, his one unbound hand bruises my skin, and his hip bones slam against mine as he releases weeks of pent up rage and frustration.

  It’s almost like the aftermath of a natural disaster; heaving breath, racing hearts, shaking limbs, and a dire uncertainty if the rest of the world survived what happened.

  The heavy cuffs dig into my belly and wrist, but I don’t move off him.

  His bruising hand is yet to release my body, almost like he’s been frozen this way and can’t let go.

  His heart races so hard, it’s a loud thump-thump-thump against my ear.

  Stars burst in my eyes; not the cheesy you just rocked my world stars, but the kind where my brain went without oxygen twenty seconds too long and left me dizzy. But he did rock my world, and when he starts chuckling, and that chuckle turns to a girly giggle, I establish that I rocked his, too.

  Lifting my face off his sweaty chest, I peel my heavy eyes open and study his lips. “Pleased with yourself?”

  “You have no fucking clue.” His hand comes down on my ass with a crack so loud, I jump and squeeze his cock. Which results in it growing inside me and pulsing pleasurably. Which results in his eyes turning hungry all over again. “You seriously have no fucking clue, Deedee.” He rolls his hips beneath me and sparks a new wildfire just seconds after the last tore through my body. “Here.” He blindly reaches across the bed until he fists a brownie and shoves half into his mouth. Lifting up until he’s sitting, he slams his mouth against mine and feeds me the delicious cake. “One more, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”