by Alisha Rai
He uttered a choked laugh and started hammering into her. “Like that?”
“Yes.”
“Huh?”
“Yes!”
“Yeah. I’ll pound you through the door.” He scraped his teeth up her neck. “Keep milking my cock with that tight cunt. I’ll fill you up. Make you drip with my come.”
Her mind shorted out, everything reduced to the shove of his big cock inside of her, her vocabulary shrinking to filthy words of praise and desire, words like faster, harder, use me, fuck me.
“God,” he muttered, right when she was close, so close. “Fuck, yeah.” He licked his fingers and brought them between her legs, massaging her clit while he drilled her.
Her muscles seized up, and she shrieked. He brought his mouth down on hers, groaning. He thrust until he was balls deep and froze, moaning again, his face helpless and a little crazed.
Wyatt collapsed against her, pressing her to the door, his breath coming hot and heavy on her neck. “Mm.”
After a few moments, he straightened and slipped out of her, still holding her wrapped around him like a monkey. After walking into the living room, he placed her on the couch. Since he hated it when she was clothed, he wasted no time pulling off her top. He pushed her down, coming to lie on top of her.
His cock lay against her thigh. He was still semierect. The man was a machine. She arched up, so he could fit better into the notch between her legs.
“See? Can’t resist me,” he murmured, smug. “Only a matter of time before you move yourself in.”
Tatiana shook her head. Smart man, to broach the subject of his heavy handed plans for their future during and after sex. During, she was lost in a haze of hormones, and after, her spine had the consistency of pudding. Either way, it was difficult to work up the requisite level of worry. Still, she made an attempt to bluster. “I suppose I’d be the one who would have to move, to accommodate your job, huh? I have a life in San Francisco. Work, friends.”
She expected him to issue some chauvinistic comment designed to rile her up, but he only frowned. “It would be difficult for me to leave here for long periods of time. But I suppose we could compromise, try living both places. I’d have to be on site for the busy season, and I may need to fly back on weekends when we’re at your place.”
She blinked. When had they gotten to talking logistics, implying this was a done deal? “Wait. What?”
“I’m invested in this company.” He shrugged. “But I’m invested in you, too. I thought I’d made that clear.”
“No. Not that. I mean, yes, that too. I can’t believe that you’d even consider living in both places…”
“Why not? You make a valid point. It’s unfair for me to ask you to uproot yourself without even thinking of the alternative.”
She stared at him, flustered, touched, amazed, and scared. “You’re serious about this.”
“Of course.”
“But…but we can’t just move in together.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s only been a few months.”
“Plus…what? Years of knowing each other?”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
His eyes narrowed, and Wyatt-the-shark edged out Wyatt-the-lover. “It’s the sensible next step.”
“We don’t know if we can live together.”
“Well, exactly. We don’t right now. Unless and until we live together, we won’t know. Besides, long-distance is a pain. It’s harder to be a normal couple when we’re both in a hurry to get to the fucking.”
“You think we’ll fuck less if we live together?” Ha! Good luck with that. She didn’t want to live in a world where she didn’t want to jump Wyatt’s bones.
“God, I hope not. But maybe we’ll go a few hours in between.” He donned a hangdog face, utterly out of place on him. “I’m not a kid anymore, you know.”
She stroked her fingers through his hair, the black strands like crisp silk. “But…what if we fight?”
“We might.” He grasped her face between his hands. “I told you. I won’t storm off. I’ll stick around. It won’t be like it was.”
“We say that we’ll make these changes, but you know that won’t happen magically overnight. Acknowledging a problem doesn’t make it go away.”
“No, but we can work on it.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “What are you really scared about?”
“I’m not scared.” Yes, she was scared. She was terrified. Being hopeful that they might have a shot was a far cry from taking the plunge and merging their lives together completely. “I’m…being cautious.”
“That’s not a word I’d use to describe you.”
Tatiana smacked his arm lightly. “I don’t want to hurt. Like before,” she said awkwardly. “What if we have some other problems?”
He rested his forehead against hers, his long lashes veiling his eyes. “Then we deal with them. If we want this to work, we make it work.”
The thought of living together was terrifying and thrilling. More terrifying than leaving her family and everything she’d ever known to forge a life for herself across the country. More thrilling than selling her first commissioned necklace. It could be the most wonderful decision she ever made.
Or it could blow up in their faces and leave them with more wounds.
Yet…for the first time, Tatiana could visualize it. Not only the good parts, but the bad, too. Waking up, laughing, loving, fighting…a steady cycle. Lather, rinse, repeat.
“I’ll think about.” She glared at him when he opened his big, fat, argumentative mouth. Did he not get what a big concession that was for her? “It’s a big step, okay? Let me think about it. Don’t push me.”
He rested his head on his hand and blinked at her, earnest. It was difficult for him to look meek. Like a tiger donning a kitten mask. “Yes ma’am.”
Tatiana narrowed her eyes, immediately suspicious of his easy acquiescence. “Wait a minute. This was all you were hoping for, wasn’t it? For me to consider it.”
“Oh, no. I was certain you’d drop everything and move in with me. After all, it’s not like your work is important to you. Plus, you’re so eager to live off my money. You only threaten to shove my credit card up my ass on Wednesdays.”
“Oh, hush.” She scowled at his teasing, trying to hide her own smile.
He allowed his satisfaction to surface. “Over-ask. Under-expect. Master negotiator’s first rule.”
“Ugh. Men.”
Wyatt slid his hand up her thigh, his erect cock slipping inside her. “Not men. Man. Singular.”
Languorously, she stretched. “Mine.” She ran her foot up his thigh, the hairs tickling. “My man.”
“Yes.” He rocked. A hand stroked up her arm, slick with sweat and the lotion she’d applied earlier. “All yours. God. You’re so wet.”
Tatiana moaned when he hit that sweet spot deep within. Wet from her. And from him. “I should clean up. I’m dirty.”
“No.” His breath brushed her lips. “That’s how I like you.”
From The Author
Thank you for reading Risk & Reward, Book Two of the Bedroom Games Series! I hope you enjoyed it. In case you missed it, Play With Me is Book One. The next installment featuring Wyatt and Tatiana is Bet On Me.
To stay up to date on all my latest releases, please check out my website where you can sign up for my (low-volume) newsletter, or follow me on twitter @AlishaRai.
Curious about what Tatiana and Wyatt were up to in the time between Play With Me and Risk & Reward? Turn the page for a special bonus short story.
This short story takes place shortly after the events in Play With Me.
“Is that a vagina?”
Tatiana Belikov sipped her wine and cocked her head, studying the painting of the bright red poppy that graced her living room wall. “Where do you see a vagina? It’s a flower.”
Wyatt Caine placed his half-finished wineglass on her coffee table, an old steamer trunk she’d found at a garag
e sale. “Aren’t all flowers secretly vaginas?”
“Only if you’re a perv.”
Wyatt nodded. “That explains it. I am a perv.”
“Or your vision has been impaired by the hideous abstract crap you have at your place.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You have no idea how much that crap cost.”
“Oh, I know.” Tatiana shook her head. “Sadly, you can’t buy taste.”
“Those paintings are an investment.”
“An investment doesn’t have to be painful.” She nodded at the art. “That’s going to appreciate, and I love looking at it.”
“Who’s the artist?”
“A friend. I traded with her for a bracelet. Isn’t she phenomenal? Undiscovered yet, but look at these brushstrokes.”
“Yeah. The strokes on that vagina are inspired.”
Rolling her eyes but secretly amused, Tatiana curled her legs up underneath her. “My, you have vaginas on the brain.”
He shot her a pointed look. “Gee. I wonder why.”
She fluttered her eyelashes at him, as innocent as can be. “Me too.”
They subsided into a comfortable silence, lulled by the radio she’d turned on. She snuck a glance at Wyatt, marveling that he was sitting right there. She felt like she’d barely scratched the surface of the man he was now, though they had spent one lovely night fucking each other’s brains out last week when they’d reunited in Vegas.
As exciting as it was to tentatively embark on the relationship they’d decided to rekindle, Tatiana hadn’t been able to quell her nerves when he’d kissed her soundly at the Vegas airport and announced that he’d be coming to San Francisco this weekend. This was her territory, after all.
And his large frame took up most of that territory. His navy suit was still crisp and pressed, the sophistication a contrast to her cluttered space. Tatiana didn’t understand how people could travel in suits. It was probably one of those things businesspeople were simply adept at doing. Like not napping after downing martinis at lunchtime.
He ought to have looked out of place in her world, this new, wealthy Wyatt. But he fit in perfectly, another mismatched piece in her mismatched life.
Mentally, Tatiana exhaled, a long sigh of relief. No need to fret, not right now. This felt….right.
He shifted, reached behind him and pulled out one of her throw pillows, this one shaped like a mushroom. After pondering it for a moment, he placed it aside. “You have an interesting place.”
She followed his gaze around her small, beloved apartment, wondering what he saw. Color, for sure. From her crimson couch to her purple armchair to her bright green bookcase and her red walls, she embraced color.
She liked what she liked, and oftentimes, none of what she liked complemented anything else. Some of her accents were whimsical and cheap, things that caught her eye at the flea market. Sprinkled amongst them was priceless art she purchased from galleries or, preferably, bartered from local artists she knew.
Some people would find her taste gaudy, or even nauseating. Curious, Wyatt took it all in. His sharp black eyes missed nothing as he catalogued every detail of the room before glancing back at her. “This suits you.”
She straightened and smiled. “Does it?”
“It does.” He scooted closer, tossing the mushroom pillow to the floor.
She made a mental note to tell him the cushion’s market value later. It might flabbergast him.
“I remember how annoyed you would get that your parents wouldn’t let you decorate your room as you wished. So the minute you got to college, you painted the walls of your dorm room yellow.”
The recollection of her hall director’s irritation made her nose wrinkle. “Ugh. They made me paint it back right away. Totally unfair, since I was the one who had to live with that ugly off-white for eight months.”
His mouth kicked up at the corner. “I’m sorry. Who had to slap on four coats of white to cover up that yellow?”
A rush of affection ran through her at the memory of young Wyatt. Jesus, Tatiana. Couldn’t you express yourself with posters? His frustration with her hadn’t stopped him from grabbing a paint roller. “You helped.”
“Helped?”
“Helped a lot,” she modified. She’d done some of the work. Or tried to. Painting a wall a boring color was, well…boring.
He pulled her wineglass from her fingers and placed it next to his on the table. Coming closer, he curled his hand around her neck. “I like your style.”
She was an experienced woman, hardly a shy virgin. Yet her stomach fluttered when he looked at her that way. “Thanks.”
“Mmm.” He leaned in closer until his breath fanned her lips. “Are you going to take me on a tour?”
“This isn’t your hotel, Wyatt. You don’t need a tour to navigate a space that’s eight hundred square feet.”
“I haven’t seen your bedroom.”
No, that was not a blush creeping up her cheeks! She was not a blusher. But she couldn’t help it. The way he said that word, bedroom, was criminal. “Maybe we can do the tour after dinner.”
His finger swept over the pulse beating in her neck. “Did you make plans for us tonight?”
A shiver ran down her spine at the intent in his gaze. The man had some plans in mind. Naked plans, probably. “There’s a great Thai place down the street. It doesn’t look like much, but they make an awesome panang curry.”
“Hmm.” He dropped his hand from her neck. She mourned its loss. His fingers worked his tie, until it hung in two strips. “I can get Thai in Vegas.”
“Jamaican?” Her breath caught when he loosened the top three buttons of his shirt, those long, elegant fingers nimble, revealing the tanned column of his throat.
“Same.”
“What can’t you get in Vegas?”
A slow smile crossed his lips, filled with enough wickedness that her tummy flip-flopped. “I know for a fact that you can get that all over Vegas. On every street corner, in fact,” she said archly.
He pulled the tie off and placed it between them. She stole a glance at it, imagining it wrapped around her wrists or her ankles. Totally an oversight, not dating more businessmen. They had kinky bindings with them at all times.
“Not with you.”
She swallowed, her throat dry. “I’ll give you that.”
Another button. “Will you give me you?”
Ah, fuck. There came that blush again. It was the novelty and excitement of the situation that was making her revert to a giddy schoolgirl. A new, tentative relationship with the guy she had loved long ago? Things were all shiny and sexy and fun. So the blush was justifiable, damn it.
As was her yearning. Oh, yeah, she’d love to lie down, spread her legs, and let Wyatt have his way. She knew it would be time well spent. The man had been good at fucking ten years ago. He was great at fucking now.
So. Much. Temptation. But she’d made a decision, and she’d stick with it. “I told you. Four dates. Four dates before we jump back in bed with each other.”
His lips twisted. “But this is date number five.”
“It’s two.”
Scowling now, he counted off on his fingers. “One, our first night together. Two, our date the next night. Three, I took you to that godforsaken magic show you mentioned you wanted to see. Four, I drove you to the airport. Five, tonight.”
Tatiana rolled her eyes. “First of all, you can’t ever count going to the airport as a date.”
“We grabbed coffee on the way.”
She ignored that. “In any case, I’m counting that whole trip to Vegas as one date. This is our second.”
His mouth dropped open. “Are you—? You have got to be kidding me. What, is this weekend going to be counted as one date?”
She pretended to think about it. Rules were highly entertaining when you made them up along the way. “Yes.”
“Tatiana.”
“Wyatt.”
“I’m a man of my word. I’d be happy to give
you time. But what is the purpose of this arbitrary period of enforced celibacy again?” He spoke through gritted teeth.
“I don’t want lust to blind us.” My, that sounded appropriately dramatic and noble.
“Not fucking each other isn’t going to make us any less lustful. In fact, my lust is pretty much through the roof right now.”
She batted her eyes at him. “Is it?” Of course it was. After their first night together, the most they had engaged in was a few minutes of heated necking. Sexual tension was a living, breathing thing between them, always present.
He stopped and considered her. “You know, I’m not a sex machine. I’d have no problem with this absurd rule, if I didn’t know you’re only fucking around with me to see how much you can get away with.”
She placed her hand on her chest, gratified when his hot eyes darted right there. Her blue top was cut low to make the best of her cleavage. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Right. Don’t think I can’t tell a power play when I see it.”
It wasn’t a power play, per se. Part of her, the mischievous, impulsive side, just wanted to see how much she could tease them both before they exploded.
Wyatt may not be a sex machine, but she kind of was.
And because of her aforementioned love of sex, she’d ensured there was a safety valve built into this nonsense. Go four dates without jumping the man’s bones? Impossible. She lifted the tie and ran it through her fingers, testing its strength. “I think you’re forgetting something about my absurd rule.”
Instantly alert, he leaned forward. This was her comfy suede couch, her life, and still he managed to dominate it. “What’s that?”
“Our definition of sex.” She peered up at him from beneath her lashes. “Our adolescent definition.”
He paused for a moment, and then gave her a wry grin. “Of course. That leaves a lot on the table, doesn’t it?”
Their teen definition of sex had been about as loosey-goosey as some politicians. Vaginal penetration? Sex.
Everything else? Um. Not sex. Especially if they could do it in the backseat of his car.
“You tell me.” She let the tie slip out of her fingers.