Playing it Cool (Sydney Smoke Rugby)

by Amy Andrews

  She relaxed slightly at his teasing tone. The thought of a bunch of buck naked rugby players striping off their clothes in front of a video game was amusing as hell. “Oh really? That’s funny,” she mused. “None of my guy friends have ever suggested it.”

  “I’m sure they wanted to.”

  Harper snorted. “I doubt it.” She often got together with a bunch of other gamer friends and pulled all-nighters.

  “Are they gay?”

  “Only a couple of them.”

  His gaze dropped briefly to where the V of her T-shirt skimmed her cleavage before returning to her face. “So, just stupid then?”

  Harper smiled at the compliment. Dexter Blake was good for her ego. “I prefer gentlemen.”

  It was his turn to snort, and Harper wasn’t left in any doubt that Dex thought her friends were fools. “What about your girlfriends?” he pressed. “You must have played something like that at girlie sleepovers?”

  “Sure.” She smiled sweetly. “Just before our naked pillow fights.” Harper rolled her eyes. “In your dreams, rugby.”

  “You have no idea.” Dex grinned. “So…what do you say? You up for it?”

  Harper wished she could say she wasn’t. Wished that she could say he’d shocked her and slap him across the face for suggesting something so outrageously risqué. But given what she’d done on this very couch twenty-four hours ago, it was probably a bit late to play the puritan.

  And, God help her, there was something so illicitly wicked about the thought.

  Was she up for it?

  Anticipation fluttered fingers over muscle fibres deep in her pelvis as her pulse tap-danced at her wrists and temple. It seemed, as far as Dex was concerned, she was up for anything. Maybe it was because she knew they weren’t in any kind of a relationship that she felt like she didn’t have to follow any of the relationship rules.

  “You’re very daring aren’t you?”

  He shook his head. “Only on the rugby field. And around you, it seems.”

  Harper tried not to let that go to her head. She failed. “How do you play it?”

  His slow smile spread heat through her belly and thighs. “Simple. Every time you lose a man, you lose a piece of clothing.”

  Harper did a mental inventory of what they were wearing. She had a grand total of four items of clothing—they’d both discarded their shoes a long time ago. Unless Dex had a fetish for women’s underwear, he only had three. Two if he was commando.

  Lordy. Her heart palpitated wildly at the thought.

  Given how quickly men died in the virtual world they could both be naked pretty damn quick. She’d have to be careful. None of her players could be expendable. She’d have to play it really safe.

  Which was ironic given how she was doing the exact opposite in the real world.

  Where the hell this would end up, Harper had no idea. More mutual masturbation? Or further? Wherever it was, she was pretty sure they’d just coasted on past Platonic-land.

  “How do you win?”

  “How do you not?” he joked, but he sobered as she shot him her best be serious face. “First one to naked is the loser.”

  Harper calculated that since she had one more piece of clothing than him, he’d probably be the first one naked. He was good, but she was better. It was a risk she was prepared to take to see him in his birthday suit.

  Sure, she’d held his cock in her hand, but she’d seen precious little of him, considering. He’d seen a hell of a lot more of her through the open zip of her overalls.

  “Turn the lights out while I set it up.”

  If she had to lose her clothes in front of him, she wasn’t going to do in the bright splash of the overhead light.

  “How will I see you?”

  “You’ll see enough,” Harper said, setting her chin.

  She may be doing something crazy and spontaneous, but years of self-consciousness about her body were hard to overcome, no matter how much Dex seemed into her.

  And there was nothing as flattering as low light.

  …

  Dex groaned when Harper drew first blood in the second minute. She whooped and grinned at him. “Take it off, rugby.”

  He laughed as he hauled his shirt over his head. It was hard not to, seeing her utter glee, but he needed to pay more attention to his big head instead of the expectant buzz coursing through his little one if he wanted to keep his wits about him and his clothes on for longer than five minutes.

  He’d been disappointed when she’d wanted the lights out, but the glow from the television screen was enough. In fact, the low light was kind of romantic, playing as it was in her hair, and shadowing the V of her chest not covered by T-shirt. It fell against the jut of her breasts, the line of her arms, and the dark denim of her thighs.

  If she hadn’t eaten off her very distracting lip gloss a couple of hours ago, it would probably be reflected in that, too.

  This night was about to become a whole lot more interesting, and he, for one, couldn’t wait. Ever since their rub and tug sessions the other day, he’d been dying to get her naked.

  And horizontal.

  God, he doubted he’d ever played as hard as he had last night on that field. The thought of Harper naked on her couch watching him, touching herself, had put a rocket on his feet and a motor in his mouth. He wasn’t usually very vocal during a game. He had a job to do, and he just put his head down and did it, leaving the directions and rallying up to others.

  But last night he’d been animated, desperate not just to win but to score as many tries as they could. Desperate to score one himself so the camera would zoom in on him and he could stare straight into it, and through it at Harper.

  It had been a tough game and a loss was always hard, but at least this one came easier knowing that while he may not have scored, Harper sure as hell had.

  “We going again?” he asked as she sat there, the game waiting patiently for her to restart it as her gaze roamed his chest. He resisted the urge to puff out like a peacock under her scrutiny.

  It may have been dark, but he could see the flare of heat in the golden brown depths of her eyes, could hear the slight roughening of her breath as it fell from slightly parted lips.

  Her stare slammed into his groin and jolted through his dick like an electric shock. He was stiff as a pike in seconds.

  “Hmm?” She glanced at him with what appeared to be difficulty. “Oh…sure…yeah.”

  Dex suppressed a smile as the game restarted. He hoped she was distracted enough to make a mistake with the game, because he meant to have her clothes off as quickly as goddamn possible.

  Within a minute he’d taken down one of her guys. “Your turn.” He smiled, his heart thudding against his ribs, his mouth salivating at the thought of seeing her breasts again.

  She hesitated for a moment before standing and peeling herself out of her jeans. It hadn’t been the move he’d thought she was going to make, but he wasn’t complaining as the lines of quad and calf were revealed for his viewing pleasure. She had the legs of an Amazon—long but sturdy, the muscles solid, the thighs kissingly enticing. Legs that would grip a man’s waist and hold him in deep.

  She was fucking Xena, warrior princess.

  He caught a glimpse of rounded booty and black lace riding up butt cheeks before she quickly plonked her ass back on the couch.

  His brain temporarily flatlined, but then they were off again, and Dex was determined to get her naked. Gaming wasn’t instinctive to him. There hadn’t been video games in his house growing up. Hell, there’d barely been enough money for food. He’d gotten into the scene late. A lot later than Harper, clearly, who took down another of his men after fifteen minutes of brilliant, methodical, relentless play.

  Dex’s hands trembled as he peeled his jeans down, a thrill of anticipation shooting through him. He was conscious of cool air relieving the building heat in his thighs and cooling his groin. Conscious of her head being level with the thick press of his erection against
the fabric of his briefs.

  Conscious of her deliberately averted gaze.

  He wondered if she’d be so proper when he was completely exposed to her view.

  Blood pounded thick and hot through his system. He could almost feel it surging through his neck and chest and groin.

  As it happened, she lost the next man and her T-shirt came off. She didn’t stand this time, just lifted it over her head to reveal a matching black lace bra before quickly restarting the game with absolutely no comment. Unfortunately Dex couldn’t afford to take his eyes off the screen for even a second to check her out because he was damned if he was going to lose his last piece of clothing before she’d at least lost that bra.

  It took another ten minutes of furious play for him to kill another of her guys. He was breathing hard by the time the shot hit its mark. From the mental exercise. From the thrill of the chase. From the high-octane sexual anticipation.

  This time he did look. Wild horses couldn’t have stopped him.

  “You want some help with that?” he asked, as her hands slid around her back to the fastening of her bra.

  “This would be a good time to do the gentlemanly thing and avert your eyes,” she suggested, her voice husky.

  “Are you kidding?” he murmured. “I’ve been fantasising about what’s in that bra ever since the day of the overalls.”

  Dex swore he could see a splash of colour darken her cheekbones, despite the poor light.

  “They look better in the bra.”

  “Oh, baby.” Dex shook his head. “I can absolutely guarantee you they do not.”

  She hesitated for a beat or two then flicked the clasp open, letting the straps fall down her arms before she tossed the bra away.

  His breath hissed out as her breasts swung free. She didn’t try to hide herself but she didn’t look at him either as he ogled them like some horny teenage boy salivating over his first girlie magazine. They were big and soft, the glow from the television accentuating the uptilt of two hard nipples, appearing mocha in the low light.

  Saliva coated Dex’s mouth as he remembered how good those nipples had felt against his tongue. Hell, he wanted to throw the controller down and devour every inch of them.

  Every inch of her.

  “Let’s play,” she said, still not looking in his direction.

  Dex had barely gathered his wits when the game started again and within seconds his next man was dead. She whooped and turned a victorious smile on him, making an L on her forehead with her thumb and forefinger as she beamed at him.

  She was magnificent, the state of her undress temporarily forgotten in her triumph.

  He grinned at her. “I think you may just be the perfect woman.”

  “Oh?” She kicked up an eyebrow.

  “Curvy,” he said, his gaze drifting to her breasts then lower to her hips and belly and lower again to follow the line of her thigh, “and kick-ass. My two favourite traits.”

  She grinned at him. “That’s game over for you, rugby.”

  “You’re right.” Dex stood, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his Calvin’s, restrictive against the urgent push of his erection.

  “No,” she said hurriedly, the controller clattering to the coffee table as she reached out to still him with a hand on his arm. Her breasts jiggled with the movement, and his dick bucked at the sight. “No need. The win is enough.”

  “Oh no,” he shook his head. “You won fair and square. To the victor the spoils.”

  Chapter Six

  Before she could utter another word to stop him, or draw breath to change her mind, Dex peeled his underwear off. He almost groaned as his cock sprang from the constriction of fabric. It felt so damn good to set his junk free, sticking out hard and potent in front of him like a goddamn divining rod sensing a nearby woman.

  He glanced down at her, suddenly nervous at her reaction. Would she tell him to get dressed and get out? Or would she reach out and touch him?

  To his relief, she didn’t avert her eyes this time. On the contrary, she was looking her fill, her mouth slightly parted. Dex’s balls contracted. Her head was about a foot from his cock, and all he could think about was her saying she should have gone down on her knees for him.

  He ached to feel her mouth pushing down the length of him, the hot clamp of her lips, the light scrape of her teeth, and the hollow of her cheeks as she sucked.

  “So, we’re not doing the platonic thing, then?” she asked, dragging her gaze off his cock for a moment to meet his eyes.

  Dex chuckled. “All my good intentions seem to disappear around you.” That should be panicking him. Dex always meant what he said to women. And he never changed his mind.

  Harper Nugent seemed to be the exception.

  “I think you may just be the perfect man,” she whispered.

  Dex smiled. “Oh yeah?”

  She nodded, her gaze lighting again on his dick. “Big.” She flicked her gaze upward. “And kick-ass.”

  He chuckled, but then she wet her lips with her tongue and the laughter ended on a strangled groan.

  “Bring those spoils over here,” she said, crooking her finger at him.

  Dex’s heart punched like bullets into his rib cage, and his legs almost gave way as he willed them to move. One pace brought him level with her, and it was all he could do not to push her back against the couch and devour her.

  “What do you want?” Her voice was husky as she slid her hands onto his thighs, and Dex shivered at her touch.

  He shrugged. Just looking down at her like this, her face upturned, her long dark hair falling down her naked back, her breasts thrust out and tipped in a golden glow from the television, was driving him crazy. “They’re your spoils.”

  She wet her lips again, and it took all Dex’s willpower not to swoop down and crush his mouth on hers.

  “I want to know.”

  Dex shook his head. She’d be shocked if she knew the things he wanted to do to her. “Trust me.” He reached his hand out and pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You don’t.”

  She dug the pads of her fingers into his thighs and the sensation streaked straight to his balls, sizzling hot at the base of his spine. “Humour me.”

  Dex locked his gaze with hers. He could see fever glint in their depths. The kind of fever that heated his blood and stirred deep in the muscles of his inner thighs.

  She wanted to hear the words…

  “I want to strip that underwear off you. I want to lay you flat and bury my head between your thighs and stay there until you forget the name of any other man who’s ever gone down on you.”

  He trailed his fingers along her jaw, not trusting himself in this moment to not follow through on what he’d just described. His thumb rubbed at the full, soft crescent of her bottom lip.

  “I want to kiss you until we both can’t breathe. I want to push your gorgeous breasts together and thrust my cock between them until I come all over them. I want to look down and see your mouth around my dick.”

  Dex sucked in an uneven breath. He was dizzy with the images bombarding his mind, intoxicated by the possibilities, by the things he wanted to do to this woman. With this woman.

  “I want to turn you upside down and inside out with wanting me. I want to bend you over the arm of this couch and fuck you until you’re begging me to stop. Hell, I want to bend you over every goddamn piece of furniture in this place.”

  Dex stopped, the breath thick in the back of his throat, his mind swirling into an abyss of devolving scenarios. Ropes, paddles, wax encrusted nipples. All that Fifty Shades of Grey shit. He wasn’t into pain—hers or his. But the way she was looking up at him, her pretty, wet lips parted and so very near, was fogging his brain with reckless lust.

  “Well all right, then.” It was gratifying to hear her voice was as husky as his. “How about we start with this one?” She moved swiftly, her mouth sliding down the length of his cock in one purposeful movement.

  “Fuuuck,” Dex groaned,
grabbing for her shoulders as his knees threatened to buckle.

  She withdrew, swirling her tongue around the head before plunging onto him again, her fingers digging into his thighs.

  “Yesss,” he hissed, his eyes shutting. “Fuck. Yes.”

  And she did it again and again, sure and slow and thorough, her mouth just the right amount of wet, applying just the right amount of suction.

  She did it until he was dizzy with pleasure. Until the centre of his universe narrowed to the point where her lips met his dick, and all sensation burst from that point only, streaking heat and pleasure in waves up his torso, down his legs and driving it deep into his buttocks, wrapping silken fingers around the base of his spine and squeezing, sparking red-hot need all the way up to the base of his skull.

  She moaned her own pleasure, her hands sliding around to the backs of his thighs, urging him closer, taking him deeper, and Dex groaned as the head of his cock hit the back of her throat.

  “Harper,” he murmured, his legs trembling and his glutes clenching as he prised his eyes open, looking down at her.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and their gazes locked as she continued to work him. Fuck. He pushed the wavy curtain of her hair back. A hand clutched at his gut and squeezed hard. Dex hadn’t seen anything more beautiful than her looking up at him, her bare breasts swaying as his cock slid deep into her mouth.

  And he was hit with an overwhelming urge to be inside her—over her, on top of her. He wanted another part of her clamped around him as his building orgasm hit. He wanted to kiss her as he slid inside her body. He wanted to cover her mouth with his and mingle her cries with his own as they came.

  God knew, her blowing him like this was tempting. He was about as turned on now as he’d ever been, and for damn sure he hoped that she’d do this again, but…not this time.

  With supreme effort he pulled his dick out of her mouth, taking a half step back in case he was tempted to just plunge it back in there again and to hell with it.

  “Dex?” She blinked up at him, looking a little puzzled and confused, her mouth so damn wet, her lips dark and full from the sucking.

  She looked lust drunk and needy. Wanton. Like a fucking goddess.