Game Player

by B. J. Harvey

  “Mine,” Sean says from behind me. Spinning around, I come face to face with a scowl. Sean’s good friends with my brother and their group of friends. He’s also rather commanding when he wants to be, and fun to wind up.

  “Hey, Sean. How’s it hanging?” I ask cockily, turning to the side to look at him.

  “I’m just fine, but you won’t have anything left to hang if Zander or Zoe find out about that tête-à-tête with their little sister.”

  “Tête-à-what?” I ask.

  “That little performance I just witnessed with Mia.”

  I shrug in response. “Don’t ask me man, I gave her a look to save me, seemed she was in the mood to play along.”

  He puts his arms across his chest and quirks a brow at me, his lip twitching as he tries to hide his amusement. “With what? Putting on a live foreplay show in my club?”

  I can’t help it, and I smirk back at him. “It was pretty hot. Maybe you could pay me to be a floor show every weekend. You’d pull the punters in for sure.”

  “Never had a problem getting people into my club, but thanks for the offer,” he replies dryly.

  “Dude, who’s the stiff?” Jase interrupts, sidling up beside me.

  Sean and I both turn our heads to my best friend. “He’s friends with Noah and Zo,” I explain.

  “Shit, talk about getting sprung,” he retorts, laughing. “You went from clingy bitch problems to hot-as-fuck bitch problems in the blink of an eye.”

  “Don’t call her a bitch,” I snap, before I realize what I’m doing. Now it’s his turn to look at me weirdly.

  “Whoa, dude. Since when do you not call bitches bitches?”

  “Since he knows his life is worth living,” Sean says, before looking back to me. “The last thing you need to do is get involved with Mia Roberts, Matt. She is off limits to you, understand?”

  That gets my back up. I may have a reputation—a well-earned one at that—but that doesn’t give anyone the right to judge who I can and can’t hook up with.

  “As I said, she was just helping me get out of a situation I got myself in.”

  “A situation? Are you in trouble, Matt?” Sean asks, his voice now filled with concern.

  I wave him off. “Nah. There was just a former bed buddy hanging around that wouldn’t get the message that she was a one-time deal. With Mia’s help, she definitely got the hint.”

  He shakes his head at me. “Don’t cause shit in my club, Matt. I’ve already got one brother who’s caused more than his share, and I don’t need the next eligible Taylor creating havoc.”

  “Duly noted.” I nod in agreement, and then he’s gone.

  That is one serious motherfucker. Of all the times I’ve seen him hanging out with my brother and his friends, unless he’s with his wife and daughter, he never cracks a smile.

  “I’d pay to watch you go at it with Mia again. Just saying,” Jase muses with a grin.

  “Shut it, asshole. Is Tiffany gone?” I ask.

  “Oh hell yes. She got one look at your hand on Mia’s ass and your tongue down her throat and she ran out crying. It was almost comical, man.”

  “Good,” I reply, feeling half guilty, half relieved that my one-night stand from a few weeks ago had finally worked out that it wouldn’t ever happen again.

  “You want to get out of here?” he asks, downing his drink.

  “Well if they’re not gonna serve us any more drinks, I’m thinking it’s probably a good idea.”

  Jase nods in agreement and follows me as I make my way toward the club’s front door.

  It’s been an interesting night, in more ways than one. At the back of my mind though, I can’t forget the feel of my sister-in-law’s sister plastered against my body and her lips slamming into mine.

  A much appreciated rescue mission that turned right back around and kicked me in the ass.

  But fuck, the feel of her body hard up against me, the taste of her lips on mine and the way she went wild when my tongue started fucking her mouth—no wonder my dick is still ignoring the fact that she’s gone and there’s no chance of getting any action from her tonight.

  That doesn’t mean I can’t hit another club and find a willing participant to fuck Mia Roberts right out of my head. In fact, that sounds like the best idea I’ve had all night. It’s what I need to do.

  Unfortunately—as is often the case when I hit the town with Jase—my plan hit a road block when Jase proceeded to cover the interior of my truck with vomit.

  Yes, my Saturday all of a sudden had an emergency car clean in its future.

  I’m woken up by banging noises coming from the direction of my kitchen. I manage to open one eye to see my alarm clock telling me it’s almost lunchtime. It still doesn’t explain to me who is in my kitchen and why they’re making enough noise to wake the dead. But knowing that only my parents and my brother have keys to my place, and I can’t hear my mother’s unfortunately bad tone-deaf voice belting out ABBA songs from down the hall, I’m guessing Noah has come to visit—or rip me a new one, if he’s heard from Sean. Let’s pray for door number one.

  With a groan, I roll sideways and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, raking my hands through my hair and rubbing my eyes as I wait for the power of sight to return.

  Once I can see where I’m going, I stand up and make my way into my en suite bathroom where I take a leak and throw on some boxer shorts before leaving my bedroom and heading in the direction of the noise.

  Turning the corner into my open-plan living area, I roll my eyes when I find my brother sitting back in my leather recliner with a coffee in his hand and a smirk on his face.

  “Morning sunshine,” he replies cheerily. “I wondered whether I was actually going to have to start cooking to wake you up.”

  “God no. That would be a fate worse than death.”

  “Waking you up or my cooking?” he asks with a smirk.

  “Both. Lucky for you, you married a woman that can actually cook.”

  “My wife is good at a lot of things.”

  “I’m sure she is. Feel like telling me in graphic detail how good she is? I’m always taking new submissions for the spank bank,” I goad, as I walk into the kitchen and thank the Lord that Noah made a full pot of coffee when he arrived.

  “You better not be strangling the snake while thinking about my wife,” he growls.

  Returning the creamer back to the fridge, I grab my cup and walk over to my kitchen counter, leaning back against it and smiling knowingly at Noah. “I guess you’ll never know, big bro. She is hot, though. Am I allowed to say that?” I joke, sniggering at the responding growl coming from my brother. “So, pray tell, for what do I owe the pleasure of an early morning visit?”

  “It’s lunchtime, Matt. There’s this thing called being a grown-up. A new concept for you I know, but since I didn’t see a line of clothes leading to your bedroom, I figured you were sleeping solo. Therefore, there was no need to be polite and respect the company, since it was only you,” he explains like the smartass he always has been.

  “Married life has ruined you,” I grumble.

  “Au contraire, little-dicked one, married life means I never wake up alone and therefore never have to take my one-eyed trouser snake in hand unless my wife is begging to watch me do it.”

  “You can take your jealousy over my big cock elsewhere, but thanks for giving me a visual of your wife to use after my door hits your ass on your way out.”

  “Touchy, touchy. Did you strike out last night, Matt? Have you finally worked your way through the single woman population in this fine city?”

  “Bite me,” I reply with an amused grunt. “But for your information, no I didn’t. I just wasn’t feeling it. Then Jase puked in my truck so needless to say, I wasn’t in the mood for anything other than sleeping when I got home.”

  “Aww, bet Jase was so disappointed at you not putting out, too.”

  I can’t help it; I bust a gut at that one. “Shut up, asshole.”

&nb
sp; “You kiss our mother with that mouth?” he asks in mock horror.

  “No, but gimme a chance and I bet I could kiss your wife better than you can.”

  Thankfully, I’d already put my coffee mug down because hearing my taunt about Zoe, he jumps up and runs at me, hooking me around the neck and putting me into a headlock before I have a chance to defend myself. “Take it back!” he says through gritted teeth.

  “She’d love it. She’d be all ‘Oh Matt, you’re so much better than your brother,’” I say, my voice getting tighter with every word and flex of Noah’s bicep against my throat.

  Unable to keep it up, I tap his arm. In a well-rehearsed and unfortunately far too frequent move, he releases his hold and I’m left bent at the waist, gasping for air to return to my lungs.

  “You’ll pay for that,” I growl, looking up to see him grinning down at me. For that he gets a punch to the gut that he doesn’t see coming. Standing up straight again, now he’s the one bent in half struggling to breathe. I give him a couple of friendly slaps on the back, which just gets me grunts in response.

  Moving back to my half-drunk coffee, I watch Noah recover and glare at me before he walks back over to the chair and sits down.

  “So, as I said before, what are you here for?”

  “Can’t I call ’round to see how you are?” he replies, his tone making me instantly suspicious.

  “No, not without an ulterior motive,” I state. “Did Sean call you?”

  His brows narrow. “No. Why would Sean call me about you?”

  Oh, thank fuck for that!

  “No reason,” I answer quickly. A little too quickly, something my brother does not miss when he arches a brow.

  “You wanna now tell me why you answered so fast?”

  “Nope. What’s up?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

  “Nice try, little brother. Now tell me what you’ve done.” His tone is stern, very father-like.

  “I feel sorry for Nate. That boy is going to get it tough from you when he grows up.”

  “My son won’t be a shit like you are. And don’t think you’ve gotten out of anything.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell. “I’ll just ask Sean himself.”

  “No!” I shout, realizing I’ve just put my foot in it. Noah quirks a brow at me, one finger still poised over his phone. “I just saw him at Throb last night, that’s all.”

  “And . . . ?”

  “And nothing. Just thought he might’ve told you he saw us last night. Knowing you, you’d probably try and turn up early to witness the walk of shame.”

  “If you’ve done it right, it should always be a stomp of satisfaction. Have I taught you nothing?” he says, shaking his head in mock disgust. “And here I was thinking you were a chip off the old block when instead, you’re ruining the Taylor reputation.”

  “Enough, asshole. We just had a few drinks, Jase more than me obviously, since I was driving and he was legless by the end of the night.”

  “Good night then?”

  “Oh yeah, laugh a minute,” I reply dryly. Images of Mia’s body pushed into mine, my hand on her perfect handful of an ass and her cherry red lips slamming into mine swirl through my mind. He wouldn’t be laughing if he knew what I wanted to do to his sister-in-law.

  “Right,” he says, grabbing his cup and getting out of the chair. Finishing his drink, he drops the empty mug on the kitchen counter beside me before smacking me on the shoulder. “Good chat and all that. I just thought I’d call in and catch up with you on my way home but now I have a son to see and a wife to do.” He grins, which makes me chuckle.

  “Tell Zoe I said hi, and tell her I’m here if she ever wants to find out what she’s missing,” I say when I’m out of arm’s reach.

  Turning his head over his shoulder, he flips me off and mutters, “Go fuck yourself,” with a smile before shutting my front door behind him.

  I lean my elbows on the counter and run my hands through my hair. What the fuck am I gonna do about this hard-on I have for Mia now?

  Snatching my phone from beside me, I slide my finger down the contacts in my address book and hover over her name. How is it that I’ve had her number for at least two years but never used it? I’ve never been close to tempted to call—until now.

  Don’t get me wrong—I’ve always thought she was hot as fuck, with brown wavy hair, pouty lips that always have me thinking of them being wrapped around my dick, the most perfect set of tits I’ve ever seen, curvy hips designed to hold on to and legs that go on for miles. She’s definitely top of the list of Beautiful Women I Haven’t Yet Slept With—and never will.

  I only let my guard down once, making her come in a supply closet of all places, at Noah’s wedding. The one free pass I allowed myself to have with her. Then, it was like nothing happened. Since then, she has been perfectly fine around me. No crazy attempts for attention—more than Mia’s normal antics—and no behavior fit for bunny boiler status. It’s almost as if she’s more like me that I’d originally thought.

  Recently though, whenever we’ve seen each other, she’s been cooler, more distant. I could even go so far as to say I’ve obviously done something to piss her off. Not that I have any idea what the fuck that might have been.

  But having her tongue in my mouth, her body plastered against mine, and that down-to-fuck look in her eyes staring back at me last night has me wondering what’s the worst that could happen if I was to make a play for her?

  Of course, I’d never treat her like the other women I’ve been with. I’m not a prick who’s all about the pussy—even if I sometimes come across like that. I make sure they know the score—they know it will only ever be once, and never do I grant overtures of a happy-forever-after. No, it’s make them come, have some fun, finish them off as I’m finishing myself off, then get out of there.

  Simple.

  Mia could never be that. If I didn’t play it right, things could get very awkward—uncomfortable even. Actually, Zoe and Zander would probably make sure I never walked straight again, let alone be able to use my cock in any fun capacity, if I fucked her over.

  It’s not a case of shouldn’t have her and deciding to anyway, fuck the consequences. No, this is a “touch her and die” situation.

  Why the fuck does that make me want her even more?

  “Look who it is. The hooker with the lips of a cock-sucker. Where are you?” Natalie chants down the phone.

  “I’m in bed. Are you still drunk?” I lift my head to look at my alarm clock, my eyes widening when I see the time. “Bitch, why are you calling me at nine a.m.?”

  “Because I just completed a walk of shame, and I needed to check in with you to make sure you got home safe, and minus the real life dildo on legs.”

  “It’s never a walk of shame, it’s a slut strut, and you should do it with pride. And I’m fine. I’m at home and in one piece,” I reply.

  “Are you alone?” she asks, sounding curious.

  “And if I’m not?” I leave her hanging, knowing that her mind will be racing.

  “Just the fact you said that means you are, which is good, because if a certain Taylor with his third leg were there with you, I’d be having words.”

  “Words?”

  “One, if you had a piece of meat—however whorish he may be—in your bed, I’d hope you wouldn’t answer your phone. And two because as hot and juicy as that piece of meat may be, you know the moment you sink your teeth into it, you’re gonna be fucked, one way or another.”

  “Wouldn’t mind being fucked,” I mutter. My mind instantly giving me an action packed—and unfortunately short—mental replay of my momentous fuck-up last night with Matt. His hands burning through my dress, the taste of him on my tongue, the feel of his hard cock pressing into me . . .

  “Just go part the pink sea and have a one-finger hate-hug with your vagina,” she says, matter-of-factly.

  I make an exaggerated gagging noise. “Do not say the word vagina.”

  “Why can�
�t I say vagina, vag, vaaaagiiiiiiinnnnnaaaaa,” she starts to sing.

  I can’t stop the giggle and don’t even try because Natalie singing about the business end of lady town is just hysterical. When I can finally compose myself, I explain. “That word is so . . . so . . . it’s just eww. Pussy, beaver, minge, foo-foo, punani, snatch; all of that is fine. But vagina, nuh-uh.”

  Now Nat laughs at me which in turn just makes me smile. I scooch down the bed and snuggle deeper into the mattress to get comfortable.

  “And I don’t hate my hoohaa so why would I be giving it an angry finger-bang?”

  “You’re right. You might damage yourself and then you’d never get anywhere near the infamous Mini WD.” Matt was named ‘Mini Walking Dildo’ by my friend Mac since he is Noah’s little brother and Noah is the original ‘Walking Dildo’—well before he met my sister that is.

  “True story,” I reply.

  “Exactly. You don’t need your downtown to be out of order. You never know when the next big train might come rolling in.”

  “Oh yes,” I sigh. “But some big trains are all flash and no show.”

  “Like Matty boy?” she asks.

  “Subtle, Nat.”

  “Never claimed to be anything but straight. So tell me what the hell happened to you last night?”

  Now there’s the million dollar question. “It was a brain fart. He gave me puppy dog eyes to save the day, and I felt obligated to help the guy out.”

  “By putting your tongue in his mouth?”

  “Well, yeah . . .”

  “And your hand on his dick?”

  Did I grope his junk? Shit, I did. “Um . . .”

  “And obviously to make it believable, you had to go the whole hog, right? Because that’s what you do to help your brother-in-law’s brother out.”

  “Right . . .” I reply slowly, not sure where she’s going with this. “Anyway, it’s done now, and I can’t take it back. It’s not like I can just magically hit rewind and unkiss him.”

  “Well, you could try, but you’d need a time machine for that, and I haven’t styled one up yet. So you’re just going to have to tell me how it was then. Did you have to go through decontamination when you got home?”