Endgame

by Mia Downing

  “You’re not going to fall in love with him in a weekend. Or a week. But the last twenty-four hours…this is the most alive you’ve been in the past five years. Yeah, you look a little ill now, but you’ve been glowing because he’s interested. You’re beautiful and alive, and I am just so proud. So please, just go live.”

  She ducked her head from his knowing blue eyes, so much like Aaron’s. “Sex with him won’t work. You know what I like. I don’t think he’ll go there.”

  “Tell him what you need, sweetheart. If I know him, he’ll run out and research everything about your submissiveness and come back with twice as much as you need.”

  He knew Aaron well. “I guess.”

  “What you need for submission will be different than what you needed before. You’re a different person. You’re not Abigail anymore, and she was a bit of a doormat. Charlotte is no doormat, and I bet she’ll be surprised at what she finds exciting.”

  But still, she couldn’t help think he was wrong. “He won’t think I’m weak?”

  Jake gave her the sweetest smile, all Jake, not a touch of Aaron. “Trust me, if you knelt at my feet and wanted me to love you, I wouldn’t think you weak. I’d think I was damned lucky you’d show me that side of you. I’d also make sure I didn’t fuck it up, so you didn’t feel the need to kill me.” Jake rounded the corner of the breakfast bar and folded her into his arms, against his chest. “Please, sweetheart. Live.”

  He smelled like a soapy clean pizza, one spicy note away from like Aaron. She never realized how she came across to others. She was a bitch, prided herself in owning the term. But now…God, she was so selfish. “Do Kate and Tia think I don’t like them?”

  “Sweetheart, no.” Jake smoothed her hair. “They respect your baggage, as you like to say.” He pushed her away to look down into her eyes. “But something has changed you, for the better, since you’ve been involved in this case. So you need to make a choice. Do you want to go back to feeling nothing, or is it nice to be back in the land of the living?”

  Damn him, she hated that he was right. “It’s nice to feel things. I guess.”

  He hugged her again, a laugh rumbling in his large chest. “Then welcome back to life, sweetheart. And you’ll figure this out. Chase and I will help you. Your endgame can change, you know. You’re not there yet. You’re smack in middlegame, with all these pieces to move and choose from. Just live in the moment. Enjoy the game for a change. Okay?”

  Enjoy the game. She’d never thought of it that way. All she’d thought of was how to get to the end and if she’d have the skills. She had the skills, now. Dead was dead at the end. Maybe she needed to live a bit before she went out swinging. “I’ll consider it.”

  “I love you, sweetheart, and I worry about you. No matter what you think, no matter what happens, you are still ours. Mine and Chase’s. No matter what you do, or what you decide, we both love you. I know you never thought I cared about your happiness, but that was never the farthest from the truth. I’ve always wanted you to be happy. That was my only goal for you.”

  That made her tear up. Of all the things they’d talked about over the years, how he felt wasn’t one of them. It was comforting. “I love you, too.”

  He kissed her forehead. “I need to go out. You’ll find a way to keep Aaron busy? In the house?”

  She hesitated and nodded. “Yes.”

  Chapter Eight

  Aaron wished he could feel guilty about eavesdropping on Jake’s private conversation with Charlotte. He would say some extra prayers for the sin of it, just to be safe. But he’d just learned a whole smacking lot about his Danger Girl and it was worth every penance.

  After their chat, Charlotte kissed Jake on the cheek and went back to Jake’s bedroom. Jake left. He heard the shower a few moments later, and he fired up the laptop to do a bit of research. What he heard and found on the Internet changed things. A lot. Jake had upped the game, and it threw him for a loop. So what did he learn?

  One, her baggage was evil. Toasty hell, devil with a pitchfork evil. It made Aaron feel like a whiny pansy for thinking his life was shit. And he loved his brother even more for being there for Charlotte, though hearing her admit love for Jake pissed him off, even if it was sisterly.

  Two, this news that she had discovered her feelings divided him smack down the middle emotionally. Half was psyched he was hot/sexy/man enough to make her feel again—definite ego boost. The other half thought the fact that she was feeling something meant this affair would hurt like hell on the other end. They would both pay. A quick assessment of his personal baggage told him he could afford the price. But could she?

  Three, she was submissive, but from experience and the research, he didn’t think that was true any longer. She was more of a switch, though not in the traditional sense. That’s why he felt the shift of power at times during their foreplay. Why she’d have him by the balls and, suddenly, he had her by the hair. Unfortunately, research didn’t quite explain it that way, so he wasn’t positive.

  He liked both sides of this, which would make him…a switch, too? He didn’t like the sound of that since being Dominant came off as a hell of a lot manlier. But what he liked more was the sound of Charlotte moaning when she came, so he’d do whatever.

  He agreed with Jake. The thought of Charlotte on her knees, asking him to love her, was humbling. That, in turn, made the whole event that much more special. And scary.

  His phone dinged, so he grabbed it and looked. Jake, texting him to come to the driveway. Aaron went out to his car and leaned an arm on the roof. “I thought you were going out? And in my car, without asking, asshole?”

  “I came back and I need your car if I’m you, shit for brains. I have your wallet, too. Charlotte lifted it for me.”

  “That’s just wrong.” Aaron had looked for the fucking thing all day long. “Christ, don’t spend all my money.”

  “I have money. Relax.” Jake glanced at the bathroom window, still lit up. “Look, she’s in the shower, so this is your sex talk. Listen up.”

  “I don’t need—”

  “Yes, you do. I never gave you one at sixteen because my life was falling apart. She’s my girl, so you have to listen or else. So here it is.” Jake gave him the evil stare, the piercing one that seeped into your soul. “One, listen to her if she decides to talk. Every word, then do as she asks. Two, do not be a punk. She still can kill you. Three, put a little lube on the inside of the condom. It feels better that way. Four, do not fuck this up. She’s special. Got it?”

  “Listen. Don’t fuck up.” Aaron nodded. “Her baggage makes her special.”

  “She was special before she had baggage. She just doesn’t remember that. That’s your job. Make her remember she’s one special girl.” Jake smiled softly, as if he were remembering Charlotte from the past. “You have any questions?”

  “I know how sex works. Tab A into Slot B, move vigorously.”

  “You’d better put more effort into it than that.” The or else was implied in Jake’s tone.

  “I’m kidding. I’m an Anderson. I’ll make you proud, I promise.” He had so many questions, all about his Danger Girl. Jake would never answer any of them, so he instead asked, “Where are you going, looking like me?”

  “Don’t ask, because I won’t tell. Have fun, baby cowboy.”

  ****

  A woman with an endgame couldn’t afford to live…could she? Charlotte pondered Jake’s lecture as she showered. He said this was still middlegame. Plenty of time to relax, enjoy life, learn to live. Aaron wanted her. Indulging in his four orgasm quest would start the living off nicely.

  But it felt like she was straying from the chosen path, ignoring the purpose, and she didn’t feel comfortable with that at all. It would be like waiting at the deli counter to order cheese and going to a party in produce instead. What if she missed her number? Granted, cheese wouldn’t vault over the counter and kill her, but the motherfuckers would.

  She was crazy. That was it. Aaron was
rubbing off on her in a bad way. So she pulled on a robe, glanced out the bathroom door, stuffed one of Aaron’s slightly used T-shirts under the terrycloth, and scurried to Jake’s room.

  Once there, she spent a moment leaning against the door and just smelling his shirt, spicy and manly all rolled into one. Scent was important to her for some reason, since doomsday. It was the only thing she remembered of her time in the hospital, and later during her time with the boys.

  She remembered the hospital smelling like antiseptic and death. Blood. The boys each had their own scent memory. Jake’s scent for some reason made her uneasy and in the beginning smelling him triggered the nightmares. Chase’s scent stopped them, maybe because she found him soothing. She didn’t know, and she didn’t tell them.

  Chase always wore a light cologne that comforted her. She had the feminine version of it because of that. The scent of his T-shirts had gotten her through many a bad night without killing herself or someone else. She remembered the day she liked Jake’s scent, finally. It was the day she kicked his ass and took him down during training. She never stole Jake’s shirts, though.

  She lay on the bed and held the T-shirt for a moment more, because Aaron’s shirts made her horny as hell. She had taken two from him off the set in England and found they triggered desire, to the point that she had to take care of the need herself. Aaron’s shirts had given her many lovely orgasms.

  The shower started up, and she closed her eyes to keep from picturing Aaron naked, under the water, all bare skin, wet muscles. Thick cock hard under the spray as he washed… The same fantasies she’d used in England only he was ten feet away through a wall and if she wanted him, she only had to open the door.

  She bit her lip and squeezed her thighs on the fresh ache brewing in her pussy. She had nothing seductive to wear if she was going through with this. Her purple bra and panties set was pretty and feminine—she loved purple. But that was it. So she abandoned the T-shirt, slipped on the underwear and then put the robe back on. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands between her thighs, and recited all the reasons why she shouldn’t do this. And then negated every one of them with Jake’s words.

  Just live in the moment. Enjoy the game for a change.

  Charlotte heard Aaron go back down the hall, each retreating step like someone hammering nails into her coffin. She grabbed the T-shirt and inhaled, deep, calming breaths that only made her breasts ache, too. Damn it. She should be sated after the orgasms he’d given her on the beach, but no. Trampy bit of fluff, she was. So after a bit, she discarded the T-shirt in her luggage, took a huge breath, and padded out in the dim light to the kitchen.

  There were candles everywhere—breakfast bar, on the stove, all the counters. Was it manly to own that many candles? She didn’t think so. But Aaron was definitely manly in pajama pants only, hanging low on his hips as he burnt his fingers on another candle, swearing and sucking his finger. His back was bare, his feet bare, hair tousled. Her mouth went instantly dry, and she turned to scurry back to Jake’s room.

  He turned and caught her retreat. “Ah, there you are. Would Ma’am like a massage after a hard day of watching over me?”

  She froze and pivoted on a foot, ready to flee.

  He gestured to the kitchen table, covered in a sheet, a cocky smile stretched over those fine lips. “Ma’am looked tense at dinner, no doubt because I have been very disobedient.”

  “A massage.” She wrapped her arms around her waist when she really wanted to rip off the robe and just fuck him on the floor or the couch. Against the door, the fridge…

  “You’re not allergic to nuts, are you? Particularly almonds?” He glanced at the bottle on the table. “I got this stuff in a gift bag at an awards thing. Nice to know I can use it.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Good.” He grinned and held out a hand. “Welcome to Sven’s massage parlor. Ma’am deserves a massage. It will be my punishment.”

  “Sven?” She eyed his hand and tucked hers deeper into her robe. She’d never had a massage before. Ever. “You’ve been on the Internet again, haven’t you?”

  “Admit it. Ma’am likes my research capabilities. She said so earlier.” He stepped closer and peeled her hand from her body. He stared into her eyes and kissed one knuckle, then along until all five had been caressed by his lips. She shivered at the intensity of his gaze.

  “Let me please you,” he whispered over her hand. “Climb up on my table.”

  She wanted to get on the table. But something anchored her feet, rendering her unable to move. Heart pounding, she whispered back, “We should talk first.”

  “Get on the table, Charlotte.” His voice deepened and brokered no argument. “Now. Face down.”

  That was a Dom’s voice. All man, in control. Her legs seemed to unglue, and she climbed up on the table and lay as instructed. He pulled her robe off her shoulders and down to her hips, baring only her back. Something squirted, he rubbed his hands together, and then along her shoulders. She jumped at his touch.

  “Easy, baby,” he soothed. “The house alarm is set. Jake is gone for the evening. And if you don’t want to have sex, fine. Just…relax.”

  He unsnapped her bra and rubbed along her back, up to her shoulders, kneading, his fingers working the knots along her muscles. Her neck. Back down her arms to her fingers. The insides of her wrists—who knew this could be so sexy? Relaxing? He leaned across her, his bare chest pressing her back as he did the opposite hand, her wrist, her fingers. His nipples rubbed her back, zinging pleasure with each brush.

  She didn’t protest when he removed the robe. No, she wanted it off, his hands in her panties. Tramp that she was.

  “I want your panties off,” he commanded softly. He tugged the sides of the strings, and she allowed them to slide down and off her feet. Naked, on his table, and she wanted nothing more than for him to flip her over. But she waited.

  “You have the best ass,” he said as his hands claimed her there, running the length of her hard muscles. He squirted more oil onto his hands, and a moment later, he spread it between her cheeks, his fingers trailing over her anus, down further to dip into her pussy. “So wet, already. I want you wet, so I can slide into you.”

  Then his hands left her pussy and roamed down her legs, inside of her knees, kneading her calves, caressing her ankles.

  “Flip, baby,” he ordered.

  She did and now she stared up at him. He rubbed oil on his chest, shucked his pajama pants and rubbed oil along his stomach, dipping to the length of his hard cock, cupping his balls. “I want to massage all of you. What better way than to use me?”

  Oh, God, how sexy. But he wasn’t light, and neither was she. She swallowed, a little nervous. “Is the table strong enough for that?”

  “I thought I was the chicken shit.” He gave her a slow grin, one that told her he didn’t give a fuck if he broke the table. “Want to use the bed instead?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “If we break the table, I won’t hear the end of it from Jake.”

  Before she could rise or protest, he picked her up. “Geesh, you’re heavy for a dainty-looking thing.” But he kissed her, his mouth hot on hers, lips open, tongue seeking. He ended the kiss, grabbed the massage oil, and headed to the bedroom.

  He must have planned ahead because the covers were off the bed and the sheets were ones she didn’t recognize. More candles lined the windowsills and his dresser. He deposited her in the center of the bed and grabbed something off the nightstand.

  “A blindfold, also from the gift bag,” he informed her and secured it, sinking her in darkness. “Research says women like to be blindfolded and at a man’s mercy. Sensory deprivation will get us those four orgasms.”

  “You really spend too much time on the Internet,” she whispered.

  “If you gave me more blowjobs, I wouldn’t have time.” He straddled her legs, his thighs hard and warm next to hers. “But no speaking. If you’re chastising me, you’re not relaxing. So no speaking, o
r I’ll find a way to punish you.”

  “You’re going to punish Ma’am?” She tried hard to sound stern but failed miserably, especially since the thought thrilled her to the core. In the bedroom, he could punish her all he wanted.

  “Well, I’d have to tie Ma’am up so she didn’t hurt me. But sure, I’d punish Ma’am.”

  He settled his ass lightly on her thighs, his balls resting smack in the center of her pussy. She wanted to spread her legs and let them drop down against her heated flesh, but he clamped her legs shut with his.

  “You’re not wet enough,” he chided and squeezed more oil onto his palms. He gave a quick rub together, and his hands started at her neck, leaning forward to reach, pressing his cock the length of her belly. Her stomach quivered. The tip tapped her skin, and a droplet of pre-cum slid onto her abdomen. She licked her lips, wanting to taste him.

  “There,” he soothed as he oiled her breasts, his fingers working the flesh, avoiding her nipples entirely. “Think how well we’ll glide together all oily like this?” And to prove his point he rubbed his bare chest against her breasts. Her nipples pebbled and hardened, aching with each swipe of those strong, bare pecs.

  She reached out and her hands connected with his hair.

  “No touching,” he admonished. “Hold the slats on the headboard so you behave. I can’t massage you properly if you’re groping Sven. It’s against house rules. So behave.”

  She reached up as instructed, the wood warm in her hands. He could tie her down any time he liked, but he needed to be more Dom-like. Less verbose. Give the orders and let her writhe. “Aaron—”

  “Shit. Uh, you are tied down, so don’t move. Or else,” he commanded. “You move and I’ll…I dunno.”

  “Spank me,” she offered. Oh, yes. She’d probably cream in his hands if he did that.

  “Maybe.” She heard doubt in his voice, and he went away. Where? She swallowed, tense, wondering what would take him away from her, how long would he be gone? She pressed her thighs together and quelled the ache.

  He must have returned because the door shut. But he didn’t continue to the bed. “My God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed. “I put the candles out, so we don’t have firemen joining our fun. Saying you’re beautiful in the candlelight is cliché, but I have no other words. You’re…breathtaking.”