Games We Play

by Ruthie Robinson

  He chuckled. “So that means tonight, then?”

  “For…er…? Yes,” she said, clearing her throat. He’d surprised her. She looked into his eyes, captivated by the desire she saw in them. “Tonight works, Barnabus.”

  “I really dislike that name,” he whispered, bringing his lips back to her ear.

  “So you’ve said, but calling you Cooper wasn’t part of our bargain,” she said.

  “True,” he said.

  “I really do like this, by the way,” she said, lifting up the drink. “What is it again?” The beer and him standing so close, whispering into her ear, were having an intoxicating effect on her senses.

  “Hefeweizen, and take it easy. I want you clear-eyed and clearheaded,” he said.

  She smiled, seductive and sensual that smile of hers, conveying so much and doing more to his insides than he was prepared for, but all his weird internal stirrings aside, he was so ready for all that her smile promised.

  #

  “We’re alone,” she said, standing in the door of Cooper’s office two hours later. The place was empty, and everybody except for them was gone. She’d locked the front door behind Alex, per his request, and the chef had been the last person to leave. Nice man, that one. Kendall had assured Myra that Cooper would give her a ride home—actually two rides, but she hadn’t shared that part with her aunt.

  “Just you and me?” he asked, placing the last stack of money into a pouch. “Alex?”

  “Gone,” she said, her hands behind her back, holding onto the doorknob. “Mind if I lock this door?” she asked, smiling to herself as his eyes zipped over to hers. “An extra precaution,” she said, turning the lock manually. “Can’t have any one walking in on us, now can we?”

  “No, we can’t,” he said. He placed the moneybag in a side drawer, locked it, and put the key in his pocket. She pulled her shirt clear of her body as she strolled over to his desk and stood beside it, staring down into his eyes.

  “I’m clearheaded and clear-eyed,” she said, unsnapping the clasp of her bra before pulling it away.

  “That’s good to know,” he said, sitting back in his chair, surprised. Even though he’d said tonight, he hadn’t expected her to agree. He’d merely been fishing. She stepped around his left leg and stood in front of him, in the space between the desk and his chair, his legs sandwiching her in, as he sat back to watch.

  “I thought your first time should be special,” she said, her finger at the button of her jeans. He was so on board—she could tell from the look in his eyes, which were rife with fire, just that quick. She pushed her button through the hole and lowered her zipper, slid her hands to the waistband of her jeans, and removed them from her hips, slowly of course, pushing them down until they were pooled around her ankles.

  “I almost forgot,” she said as she reached for the condom she’d tucked into the pocket of her jeans earlier.

  #

  “You are beautiful,” he said, watching her, mesmerized by the sight of the professor clad in nothing but a pink leopard-print G-string.

  “I thought we should go back to the beginning. Since you seem to appreciate a certain part of my anatomy, let’s start where we left off in the trailer,” she said, lifting her arms in the air. She shifted her body to one leg, trying to remove her foot from her jeans.

  “Leave them there if you don’t mind,” he said.

  “If you wish,” she said.

  “I do,” he said. She turned around, giving him her back view, and leaned over to the desk, placing her hands on the top of it. She looked over her shoulder and smiled.

  “Kendall,” he said, her name a sigh, as he sat back in his chair, trying to look his fill, not sure if it were even possible.

  He needed a minute or two to try to quiet his pulse, a fast, steady drumbeat racing around beneath his skin. He reached out and touched her, positioned so perfectly between his legs. He ran his hand over her skin, softly following the curves and contours of her body, moving up to her waist, and then down to rest at her hips. God, she was beautiful, smooth brown skin, all his now and for the next several months.

  He stood slowly, his eyes roaming over her body, as he reached for the condom, which she was now holding between her teeth.

  “Come on, Barnabus, show me what you can do…again…please,” she said softly.

  He moved his eyes to hers, reluctantly leaving his treasured body part behind to meet the challenge in her gaze.

  He cleared his throat and unzipped his jeans. She was watching the condom, he noticed, as it made its way down, sheathing him.

  “You smell good,” he said, moving in close to her, standing behind her now, resting against her back, hard and solid. His mouth was at her neck, skimming from one side to the other.

  “I don’t know where to start,” he whispered in her ear as his hand moved around to her breasts.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered in between soft kisses placed wherever his mouth happened to fall. One hand moved down to the front of her.

  His mouth was at her neck, and his breathing had changed. She lifted her arms up over her head so that she could touch him, her fingers moving through his hair, her eyes closed as one of his hands pulled, tugged at her breast while the other slid down the front of her body, moving smoothly over her stomach, under her G-string, and down to the heat of her. She sucked in air, pushing into his lower body. It is an excellent place for her to be, he thought, then he speared her with his index finger and started to move it around inside her. She pushed back into his body again. This time he pushed too, wanting her to feel what she did to him.

  “Kendall,” he whispered into the ear, and caught her moan as his finger hit a particularly sensitive spot. It had her pushing back into his hips, grinding against the part of his body that was way past ready for this, for her. She moaned again, her response to the things his hand was doing to her, paired with her inability to move her feet, which were secured together by her jeans.

  He pushed her forward, so that she way lying over the top of his desk, arms outstretched, legs entrapped by her jeans, bare. His hands found her hips, and he lifted her, removing the strip of cloth that posed as underwear before pushing her up onto the desk a little more, so that she was at the correct height and angle.

  He pulled his T-shirt over his head and leaned over, his stomach touching the smoothness of her back. He kissed her neck, while his hands resumed their movement over her body. He scattered kisses under her ear, over the top of her shoulders, anywhere he could put his lips. She turned her face to his—to say what, he didn’t know—and was met by his mouth. He kissed her, slow, wet, warm, and open.

  #

  His hands were at her hips, sliding down to her ass, caressing first, then separating. She felt him behind her, his tip touching the entrance to her. He slid in slowly a few seconds later. “Kendall,” he said again—and was that a whimper he just let loose?—followed by the low rumble of a groan as he pushed in completely, filling her. “Kendall,” he repeated, cradling his head in the space between her shoulder blades.

  How could something so hard feel so good? she thought as he softly began to move in and out of her body. She moaned and pushed her hips backwards to meet him, but that was hard, ’cause her feet were locked tight in her jeans, and only the tips of her toes were touching the ground. He pushed into her again, harder this time, lifting her to the tips of her toes with each thrust of his hips. He’d pushed in again, and then again, and again, setting a rhythm that was neither fast nor slow, just perfect. Her hands were at her sides, locked in between his arms; one of his hands was playing her and the other was at her hips to hold her still as he thrust into her. It went on like that for minutes before he lifted himself from her back.

  He was leaning over her now, his head in the crook of her neck, breathing hard. She moaned again at the unrelenting movement of his hand playing her in its soft but relentless pursuit of her orgasm, made stronger by him pressing forcefully in and out of her body. It was too
much. She moaned.

  “Say my name,” he whispered against her lips a moment later. Her eyes popped open as another moan escaped her lips.

  “Say my name,” he said, still at her lips, his eyes open and staring into hers even as he moaned.

  “What?” she whispered, not really getting what he was asking.

  “Say my name,” he said, lifting his upper body away from hers, his hands on her hips as he began to thrust harder into her, only to pull out slowly and push back in.

  “My name. I want to hear you say it,” he said as he moved into her.

  “Barnabus,” she said.

  “No, wrong answer,” he said slowly, and lightly slapped her right butt cheek—not hard, but it felt incredible coupled with the forceful thrust of his hips into her.

  “Say my name,” he said, quietly, matter-of-factly, as he thrust into her again, his head next to her ear now. She was having a hard time remembering her own name, let alone his.

  “Barnabus,” she said, and felt the sting from his hand on her other cheek this time. As he pushed into her again, her feet left the floor completely, his hips pushing her upward. She moaned.

  “Bar,” she said, more a pant followed by a moan, ’cause he’d started to set a faster rhythm, and God, he felt so good moving in and out of her, lifting her hips off the desk with each thrust.

  “Say it.” He grunted out the words this time, breathing heavily now, panting as he continued to move in and out of her body. His one hand had returned to his spot in front, playing her like some instrument as he thrust hard into her, in and out and in and out and in.

  “Say it,” he said, louder than he’d meant to, his teeth together, trying to stave off the climax that was starting to build.

  “Say it,” he said, and she was moaning now, continuously, and in time with his thrusts. He slowed down, put his mouth over hers, catching her moans, giving them both a moment, and then he went back to playing her, bringing her to…oh God, she was coming hard, moaning in his mouth, trying to pull away from his hand. She pushed her hips back into him just as he thrust hard, hard, harder into her, and she came, calling out his name.

  “Cooper,” she shouted as she reached her climax. God, she thought, and he pushed into her again, then out, faster now. He needed both his hands to hold his body upright, they were now beside her head, and he thrust into her again, lifting her off her feet, moving her forward on the desk before she slid back down, only to have him push her up again on his next thrust.

  “Please don’t stop,” she said, not done yet, his grunt and moan his only response. And then he was silent, concentrating, she guessed, as he continued to thrust his hips into her again and again, and she was coming again, with him this time. “Cooper,” she said again, upon his one final, hard push into her body before he leaned over her, groaning his release into her hair, his body stiff with his climax. He held himself over her for a second or two before he sighed again, coming to rest on top of her body. He laid his head on her upper back. She could feel his stomach against her as his lungs expanded and contracted, seeking air. He let go of a smaller moan, and his body shook a little, some residual pleasure.

  “Cooper,” she said, and he laughed, and she loved the way his stomach touched her back when he did that.

  It went quiet then, their strained breathing the only sound in the room. He stood up, helped pull her up into an upright position. He pulled her into his arms and held her, arms locked around her waist, his head in her hair as they both sought to regularize their breathing.

  “All summer, huh?” she said, and smiled, leaning up to touch her lips to his.

  He smiled. “All summer.”

  She kissed him again and he pulled her close, giving her mouth more time and attention. He finally pulled back and smiled again.

  “Bathroom,” she said.

  “Sure,” he said, pointing to the one in his office. Watched as she stepped out of her jeans, picked up her shirt, and carried them with her. He kept his gaze on her until she closed the bathroom door behind her.

  He stood staring at the desk for a second. He’d never done that before. He reached for his keys when he was done setting his clothing to rights and waited for her. In less than five minutes, she stood next to his desk, looking pulled together and fresh, like nothing had happened. He grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him. If she was surprised by his actions, she didn’t let it show. He locked up, and five minutes later, he was parked in front of Myra’s home.

  “You don’t have to walk me in,” she said, stopping him as he opened his car door.

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I am,” she said, standing on the outside of his truck now, holding his gaze through the open door. “Until later?”

  “I’ll be in touch,” he said.

  She smiled and made her way to the front door. He watched as she opened it, letting herself in. He ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it.

  He drove away, his mind one big swirl. Damn was the only word that would stay put in his brain, all of his other thoughts long gone. Damn at that the surprise of her stripping and standing in front of him, nude and beautiful. Damn at the way he felt inside her, moving, and at the end—a more perfect climax he’d be hard pressed to find. Damn, ’cause he couldn’t shake the image of her lying on his desk with that beautiful ass in the air, reminding him of a ripened peach for some reason, and all for his private viewing pleasure.

  He could still feel the smoothness of it, and his fingers twitched like they were remembering too. He shook his head, trying to free his mind of that image, but nope, there it was again, front and center, pushing everything else to the back or the side, or wherever there was room.

  He ran his hand over his face, turned into his yard, and cut the ignition. The whole summer lay before him, with her all in and game too, the professor, an unexpected surprise, an unexpected something. She was Kendall now, and he was Cooper. No more Barnabus, he thought, mentally patting himself on the back. He’d done an excellent job of putting that to rest.

  And it wasn’t just about sex. She wanted friendship. She wanted to know him. He’d had fun at the stupid tournament that had turned into more than even he’d imagined. He liked her, like the way she treated her aunt. He liked how she just fell right in, went with the flow, like she’d been a part of this town for a while now. He liked—no, he loved—how she stood up to him and challenged him.

  He sobered up a little at that thought. A summer of her getting to know him, the parts he was willing to show her at least, and maybe more…well, it had been a very long time since he’d let in someone new. Not all of who he was and what he’d done in his life was fit knowledge for everyone. A summer fling wasn’t the person with whom you should share your deepest, darkest secrets. Those were reserved for the one, someone he could trust to not run scared, appalled. Kendall had the makings of the one, a flickering, fleeting thought in his brain.

  He rubbed his hand over his upper left arm, the place where he kept a reminder of who he’d been before Myra and George had stepped in and helped to change the course of his life. A rescue for which he was eternally grateful, and his reasons for helping Myra do whatever she asked of him. He pushed those more serious thoughts aside. He would enjoy Kendall for the summer if it killed him, and if tonight was any indication, it just might.

  #

  Fourth week of June, Sunday morning

  “What happened?” Lark asked. She and Kendall sat on the couch in the back room, the TV tuned to some station that neither of them was watching. Everyone had awakened to the smell of breakfast cooking. The smells of bacon, coffee, and some bakery-like flavor had made Lark and Kendall follow their noses to the kitchen, where Aunt Myra, who was one hell of a cook, moved around the kitchen.

  Myra and Butch had gone to church following breakfast, leaving Kendall and Lark home alone.

  “Any buyer’s remorse?” Lark asked. Her sister always cut straight to the point.

  “Nope. I like him.
We talked last night about getting to know each other as friends. He’s too close to Myra for us not to know more of him, right? We both seem to want this, and we’re consenting adults.”

  “Do you think you could live in a town this size?” Lark asked. She’d seen Cooper and her sister, watched the way they looked at each other, and it would be what it would be. She was willing to wager her savings that they would be together.

  “I don’t know, maybe. But I don’t expect it to get that serious.”

  “But if it did. Austin is not that far away from here, and you could rearrange your teaching schedule. You wouldn’t have to drive every day if you didn’t want to.”

  “I do like it here—the people are friendly and I love what Myra and her group does, looking out for the town like they do. Her philanthropy feels personal, and most of the people I’ve met believe in looking out for their neighbors. That attitude is something I’d like to see in my partner, which is part of the reason Houston and I didn’t work out.”

  “What if this Cooper turns out to be the man, the one you’d hoped Houston would be? Would you consider living here then?”

  “I would. But I’d slow down if I were you. He doesn’t trust women any more than Houston did. Plus I like my home, my job, and my life in Austin.”

  “You never know,” Lark said.

  “If it goes that way, then it goes that way. But it’s not my intention. Anyway, that sort of planning would be something Vivian would do. I am going to enjoy the summer, and for once, I’m just going to enjoy a man, getting to know him without worrying whether it will lead to something more. I won’t have to interpret his every action, or he mine. All we have to do is enjoy. You know?”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “Believe me, I’m so sure,” she said, smiling.

  Seventeen

  Monday morning Hank sat cooling his heels in the waiting area of the city hall. It was nice here—it had been remodeled after he left town. What had once been a small, two-story building that housed the jail and all of the city’s businesses had been transformed into the town square. Three buildings, shaped into a squared C configuration, surrounded a small area that held a fountain and benches for seating.