Play for Keeps

by Maggie Wells

  Taken aback, she gave a wiggle. The movement did nothing to dislodge him but did help inch the pesky zip down a centimeter or so. “My mouth? What’s that mean?”

  He chuckled against her ear. “I’m obsessed with your mouth, Millie. The things I want to hear from you. The places I want you to put those lips. What I want to do to your mouth.”

  This time, her squirm had nothing to do with protest. She had wants of her own, and it was high time the man started filling them. “Tell me.”

  “Oh, I’m gonna.”

  A threat. A promise. The best possible harbinger of things to come. He’d drawled the words, infusing each one with a deep, dark menace that made her want to giggle with maniacal glee.

  “Tell me,” she urged again. As added incentive, she ran her hands down his back, her fingertips trailing along the crevice of his spine. His ass rose up out of the small of his back, tight mounds of pure muscle. He was big and broad and long and lean, but damn, if the sweet curve of his ass didn’t fit perfectly in the palm of her hand. “Tell me everything you thought, every place you wanted me, every way.”

  At last, he pulled the zipper down. “I can’t right now.”

  “Why not?” She smiled when he lifted his weight enough to start working the fabric down over her hips. “Chicken?”

  “Plenty of time for finesse later.” He plucked open the first two buttons on her blouse, then ducked his head to nuzzle the top of her breast. “We’ll play all those games after.”

  He was putting her off. Something niggled at the back of her mind. A nagging voice insisted she should be put out by his bossy behavior. But she found herself not paying that pesky, little cricket chirping in her brain any mind. Not when she was so turned on by Ty’s commanding tactics. “But now?”

  Ty lowered his body into the cradle of her hips, then peeled back enough to look her straight in the eye. “Now? Well, right now, you and I are going to play a little one-on-one.”

  “We are?”

  “Hot. Fast. Messy.”

  “No blood, no foul?” she asked.

  A slow smile spread across his face. “Where’d you learn that?”

  “You forget, I hang out with you jockstraps all the time.”

  “No blood, no foul,” he repeated, his incandescent smile lighting the dim room.

  She held his gaze for the span of a heartbeat, then gave a brief nod. “Ready? Go!”

  Lips. Teeth. Hands. Oh Lord, those hands!

  He palmed her ass and lifted her off the mattress, grinding against the thin fabric barriers between them until she prayed they’d disintegrate into dust. His mouth was hot, his kisses sweet and sultry one minute, all-consuming the next. She was pretty sure she felt one of the buttons on her blouse pop off. He broke the kiss long enough to sit back and yank the collar of his shirt over his head with one hand. His smooth, muscled chest rose and fell at a flattering rate as he tossed the wadded shirt aside. The patch of dark, curling hair between his pecs beckoned to her. She answered the call, running greedy fingers through the tight spirals, then skimming the heels of her hands over the hard ridges and planes she’d fantasized about night after night.

  “I watched you and Kate go at each other one-on-one,” she told him in a breathless voice. “Not like this. On the court.”

  “You did?”

  “Last spring. She was working off a little Danny frustration.”

  “I remember.” One corner of his mouth kicked up. “She kicked my ass.”

  Millie’s smile was smug on her friend’s behalf. “She did.”

  “Wasn’t fair.” He pressed into his palms and lowered himself onto her once more, leaving room for her to explore but giving them both the proximity they ached for. His lips grazed her ear. Hot breath tickled her neck. “She has a bionic knee.”

  “Use whatever excuse makes you feel better, big guy, but she had you on your knees,” she countered. “She also got the shirt off your back. The spectators in the stands will be forever grateful.”

  He jerked, then pulled up to look at her. “Spectators?”

  “Me, Cassie, SaraAnn from Mike Samlin’s office.” She punctuated each attendance entry with a lingering kiss along the column of his throat. “A couple of the trainers.” She brushed the pads of her thumbs over flat nipples, then squirmed as she felt his flesh pebble and bead. “I bet Kate didn’t buy her own lunch for a month. Grateful public and all.”

  She felt the heat rise in his skin. A flush darkened his cheeks, but it had nothing to do with lust. The man was blushing, and it made him look good enough to eat. Scissoring her legs, she clamped them tight around his thigh. His eyes widened in surprise, and she smiled. All the miles she’d run over the years paid off in more than shin splints and free bananas. Her legs weren’t only shapely and supple; they were powerful. She could crush this big, strong man between her thighs and make him thank her for the punishment.

  “On your back,” she ordered.

  To his credit, Ty hesitated only for a second. A smile worthy of the Cheshire Cat lit his face as he rolled, dragging her along with him for the ride. “Please be gentle,” he teased.

  His gruff acquiescence told her he was hoping she’d be anything but easy on him, which was good. He’d said hot, fast, and messy. Magic words.

  Ignoring the fact that her skirt was already unzipped, she grabbed the hem and gathered the fabric up over her hips. She had to shimmy a bit, but he didn’t seem to mind the show. The fabric bunched at her waist, she hooked a finger under the button of his jeans and yanked. It opened with well-worn ease. She was about to grope for his zipper when four more buttons gave way with satisfying pops.

  Millie grinned. “Thank you, Lord, for button flies.”

  A moan that sounded more like a purr rose from her throat as she slipped her hand into the V. The hard, hot length of his cock strained against the confines of his boxer briefs. Unable to resist, she stroked him through the thin fabric. The cotton was silky smooth against her fingertips. She hummed with appreciation when she felt the wet patch dampening the fabric near the wide waistband.

  “Condoms?” she asked.

  He nodded eagerly. “I bought some.”

  “Where are they?”

  He stared at her blankly, then his handsome face contorted into a grimace. “In my suitcase.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Please tell me the airline didn’t lose your luggage.”

  Ty wet his lips and shook his head. “The car. I’ll go.”

  As much as she wanted to watch him streak through the house with his pants around his ankles, Millie wasn’t about to let him out of her clutches. Not when she finally had him where she wanted him.

  “Lucky for you, Avery pilfers free rubbers from health services and hands them out to anyone and everyone.”

  Scrambling off the bed, she spotted her tote where she’d dropped it inside the door and made a beeline for it. She didn’t care if her blouse flew behind her like a cape and her skirt was rucked up around her middle like a damn tutu. Frankly, if she had to walk around naked in front of the man, she preferred a little camouflage. Unlike his last lover, she hadn’t been anywhere close to twenty in a long, long time. She plunged her hand into the bag, found the tab for the zipper compartment, and within seconds closed her hand around the foil square.

  “Usually, I’d be better prepared myself,” she said, rolling her shoulders as she sauntered back to the bed, triumphant. “If I’d known you were coming home, I would have stockpiled.” She waved the condom at him, then tore the wrapper in two. “Lucky for us, I have what Avery likes to call ‘a little packet of hope.’”

  She waited until she saw his gaze drop to her satin bikini panties. Once she was sure she had his full attention, she hooked her thumbs into the band and shucked them. Crawling up onto the bed, she shed the shirt as well, glad she’d chosen to wear a semipretty lace-edged bra that
day rather than the jog bra she sometimes wore under her clothes for convenience. The lingerie wasn’t from her top drawer, but thankfully, it wasn’t laundry day stuff either.

  “Do this for me?” she asked, handing over the condom.

  Ty snatched the coil of latex from her fingers with one hand and pushed at his jeans and briefs with the other. She took over, curling her fingers into the double waistbands and drawing them down. The reveal was at once too slow and way too fast. She stared openly at the length of him as he set to work with the condom. While he was busy, she pulled his worn jeans down over taut thighs and below his knees.

  “I say we go for hot and fast first, work on messy later.”

  “Good plan,” he agreed. “But, Mil, I’m gonna get you messy. Every way I can.”

  The creak in his voice nearly set her off. Abandoning his pants, she crawled up to straddle him. Ty rose to meet her, his hand sliding slowly up her spine and coming to settle at her nape. He drew her down and kissed her. Slow. Deep. The tip of his tongue teased the seam of her lips before plunging in to take what she so desperately wanted to give. His cock pressed against the curve of her stomach. He moved his hips, each undulation timed to match the swirl of his tongue and the thrum of his heart.

  They broke apart, breathless, panting, and damn near feral with want. Even with her seated on his thighs, they were still eye to eye. Looking directly at him was too much. She wanted him too badly. And having him only for a little while would certainly bring her heartache. Needing to claim a modicum of control, she pressed the heel of her hand into his shoulder and created some distance between them.

  He stared back at her, sleepy-eyed and too gorgeous to be real. He must have seen something in her face. A flash of apprehension, a hint of fear, some chink in her armor. She knew that stare all too well. He wore the look of a warrior. A champion. Someone born to win at all costs.

  “You still game, Millie?”

  The challenge was unmistakable and irresistible. She hadn’t backed down from a dare in over twenty years, and she wasn’t about to start now. Not when she wanted this every bit as badly as he did. If he broke her heart, she’d survive. She had before. She would again.

  Sliding her hand to the center of his chest, she lifted her hips as she pressed him back into the mattress and positioned herself over him. “You bet, Coach. You watch how game I am.”

  Chapter 9

  Ty knew of nothing better than watching a mostly naked woman climbing on top of him. Okay, maybe a totally naked woman swinging a leg over would top the list, but this was good. For now, he was content with the visual. He’d make sure they had time for totally naked later.

  High, small breasts curved over the top of her bra. Her lingerie wasn’t porn-star quality, like the stuff Mari preferred, but the bra and panties were pretty and feminine. No one would ever accuse her of being a Barbie doll. Her figure was slim and subtle, her waist a trim indention and her hips rounded enough to give him something to hang on to. So he did.

  His eyes closed of their own accord as she lowered herself onto him. Christ, was there any better feeling on earth than the give of a woman’s body? He felt her hand on his shoulder and forced his eyes open. Millie leaned down over him, her wild, red hair tousled and her eyes bright with arousal.

  “You ready for this?” she whispered.

  Any words he might have conjured tangled in his chest. The only thing that escaped was a strangled groan. She moved. Up. Down. Lord, she was hot. Tight. He clenched his teeth, his fingertips pressing into the soft curve of her ass. How could anyone possibly be prepared for this? “God yes.”

  She rode him, holding him to every promise he’d made concerning speed and intention but spinning them higher than he’d pictured in his fantasies. She was a Technicolor dream. Vivid hair. Flashing eyes. Her black skirt was bunched around her waist. Pale-blue lace obscured but failed to contain her breasts. He could see her nipples pressed against the peekaboo fabric, hard and red as ripe berries. Could almost taste them. Damn, he needed to taste them.

  Ty tried to rise, but she planted both hands on his shoulders and slowed, her eyes narrowing in unspoken challenge. Wetting his parched lips, he gave in. Plenty of time to make good on the laundry list of things he planned to do with her. To her. In her. Later.

  Holding her hips as she stepped up the pace once more, he sank back into the pillow, prepared to enjoy the show. If she wanted to call the shots for now, that was okay by him. This wasn’t a one-sided thing. And certainly not a one-time chance either. He’d have to work at getting to her, but he would. Soon.

  He blinked hard, willing his mind to stay sharp despite the fuzzy edges of pleasure threatening to encroach. He needed to stay with her. In her. Holy hell. He tensed his abdominals, trying to hold back the surge rising inside him. He needed to think about something other than the sultry pull of her body.

  Baseball. Trite but true. The national pastime was, after all, the world’s most boring sport. Aside from televised golf. Or curling. He wasn’t a big NASCAR fan—

  “I wanted to climb up in your lap and do you like this on national television.”

  The breathy confession jolted him straight out of the wide world of sports and plunged him right back in the here and now. Heat. Friction. Her hot, slick pussy clenched tightly around him. Her breaths coming fast and shallow. His voice came out so rough and deep he almost didn’t recognize himself. “You what?”

  “When that tight-ass Chambers had you in his hot seat, I wanted to do this,” she said, holding his gaze. “When he was talking to you like he could ever be half the man you are, I wanted to hike my skirt up, straddle you in that hideous chair, and show the whole damn world how fuckable you are.”

  “Jesus Christ.” He groaned the words, acutely aware they were half prayer, half blasphemy, and entirely necessary. If she kept on saying shit like that, he was going to need some divine intervention on his side.

  Warming to the subject, Millie leaned down. “I wanted you in the car. Hell, I’d have given old Manny a show that would have ruined him for Broadway.” Her face hovering above his, she pumped him like a piston. “Might have reminded him of Times Square before the facelift.”

  She huffed and puffed, but her pace never slackened. The muscles in her thighs tensed and flexed beneath his roaming hands, but he didn’t feel even a tremble of exertion.

  Not on her part at least. Hell, he was straining so hard not to come he was pretty sure his fucking lips were quivering. Not above cheating a little to keep the playing field even, he slid a hand between their bodies. Her clit was swollen and slick. The damp curls of her pubic hair were thrillingly exotic. He wanted to bury his face between her legs and smother himself in those damp curls.

  Millie moaned when he pinched the sensitive flesh between his thumb and middle finger. Thrilled by her responsiveness, he slid his other hand over her ass and ran his fingers slowly along the crevice. As far as he was concerned, her bold talk gave license to test her boundaries. Millie was a woman who wasn’t afraid to use her words. He pressed the pad of his index finger to the tight pucker of her anus, and she let loose with a sharp cry.

  Ty tucked his chin to his chest, frantically scanning her face for a hint as to whether the squeal was one of ecstasy or revulsion. He needn’t have bothered. With the next thrust, she pressed back against the invasive finger and came completely unspooled.

  Watching Millie climax was a revelation. No artifice or enhancement. No overly theatrical moans or exaggerated head thrashing. She didn’t claw, bite, or even scream. She just…came. Beautifully. With abandon. And he wanted to go there with her.

  He pushed back against her restraining hand and rolled up to meet each rise and fall of her body. He gripped her ass and started to thrust up into her, each jerk of his hips awkward and a little sloppy, but he was beyond caring about style points. “God, you’re beautiful.” He panted the words, his gaze lock
ed on her heavy-lidded eyes. “I wanna watch you come over and over again.”

  The sentiment was accompanied by a particularly sharp push into her tight, pulsing heat. Whether the thrust or his near-orgasm confession shook her from her trance, he didn’t know, but she threw her head back and laughed the husky laugh that zinged straight to his balls every time.

  Helpless, he tucked his face into the sweet curve of her neck and let go. His teeth scraped tender, fragrant skin. He roared long and loud, not caring if the whole damn neighborhood heard him. Grasping the soft, round cheeks of her ass, he spread her wide, bucking like a fired-up bronco as the first pulses ripped through him. At last, he gave in and let his eyelids slide shut. For the first time in a long time, he loosened his hold on his impulses and let momentum carry him.

  Their bodies slowed long before their ragged breathing. Gradually, Ty became aware he was wrapped around her like a cartoon coyote who’d run face-first into a telephone pole, but he didn’t move. Couldn’t. She smelled like perfume and powder and a half dozen other delicate feminine fragrances. He wanted to stay right where he was until he identified every one of them.

  Millie ran her hand over his hair. The gentleness in her caress was almost too much but, at the same time, not nearly enough. She was soothing him, all the while stoking the embers of his need again. Embers, hell. The woman ignited him. Smiling, he nipped playfully at the curve of her neck, then roused himself enough to lift his head.

  Her sleepy-eyed gaze made him want to pull her down, tuck her into the curve of his body, and drift off. But he couldn’t. They had the logistics of the condom disposal to contend with and various other nuts and bolts to discuss. And now, the warmth in her eyes was tempered with more than a little wariness. The tension in her supple thighs wasn’t only from exertion. He got the feeling Millie would bolt from his bed the minute he gave her the opening. And he had no intention of leaving the lane open for her.