Changing His Game (Gamers #1)

by Megan Erickson

  She smiled back. “Aren’t you sweet.”

  “So who’s Aric and why does he want revenge?”

  She tried to explain it as briefly as she could. The video game was set in a fantasy medieval world. Aric was a warrior, stripped of his knighthood, who was seeking revenge against a king who killed his family and enslaved his wife.

  “So, what you’re saying is he’s a pissed-off motherfucker with armor and a sword.”

  “And dragons,” she said.

  “Come again?” Chad asked.

  She opened her mouth to answer him but instead of her own voice, she heard a deep, soft one—the same deep voice she’d heard in her head since yesterday afternoon.

  “Aric’s dragons are summoned when his anger level reaches sixty-seven percent.”

  Marley stared at Austin, who stood in the aisle by Chad’s chair, a teenage girl at his side, nodding her head in agreement.

  Austin’s gaze was on Marley, even though he answered Chad’s question. “It’s rather difficult for the player, because he or she must allow Aric to be injured enough to raise his anger level, but not enough to kill him. It’s a delicate balance. And then once the proper anger level is achieved, it must be held for five seconds. Of course, the programmers erred and it’s more like four-point-seven seconds.” His face darkened, like that error really bugged him.

  He wore a pair of worn jeans that hung low on his hips, and a dark red henley, one top button undone, the fabric stretched over his chest. He talked like a textbook and looked like an underwear model. The combination did absolutely everything for her libido.

  She looked to her brother, who stared at her coworker with eyes the size of saucers. Chad slowly turned his head to Marley, a silent question in his expression.

  She cleared her throat and pointed at the man in the aisle. “This is Austin.”

  Chad, who had just taken a sip of his soda, choked and she elbowed him with narrowed eyes.

  Once he regained his breath, he wiped his watery eyes and held his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Austin. I’m Chad, Marley’s brother.”

  Austin mouthed a word silently, and she could have sworn it was brother. He turned to the girl at his side. “This is Sydney, my friend’s daughter. Sydney, this is Marley and Chad.”

  The girl smacked her gum. “Yeah, I got their names Unc Aust, but thanks. Nice to meet you!”

  Chad motioned to the empty seats in their aisle, next to Marley. “Why don’t you guys sit with us?”

  Austin looked almost alarmed, and Marley started to shake her head.

  “That’s perfect!” Sydney said brightly. “I’m sitting with my friends and Unc was going to have to sit all by himself.” She rose on her tiptoes and stretched her neck toward her uncle. His eyes on Marley, Austin mechanically bent so she could kiss his cheek.

  “Have fun!” Sydney said, and turned to walk away.

  Austin reached out a hand and gently gripped her arm. “I checked ahead of time with the theater. They use canola oil on the popcorn, so you can eat that. But the soft pretzels here are a no, okay?” His soft voice held an unmistakable tenderness that hit Marley right in the chest.

  Sydney wrinkled her nose. “Really? I thought I could eat the pretzels.”

  He shook his head. “They changed companies. Sorry, sweetheart.”

  She sighed. “Oh well.” Then she shot him a beaming smile. “Thanks for checking. I wouldn’t have thought to ask again.”

  “Of course, Syd.” His fingers squeezed her arm and then he let go. “I’m not sure your father would ever forgive me if I had to shove an Epi-Pen in your thigh in the middle of a movie theater.”

  Sydney laughed. “It’d be a fun picture for Facebook.”

  He pointed to the corner of the theater where a loud group of teenagers was pointing and waving at them. “Go join your friends. Text me if you need me.”

  Sydney waved and trotted away.

  Marley was so caught up in the way he treated his friend’s daughter, that she almost missed her brother’s next words.

  “Have a seat right there beside Marley.” Chad stood up with a triumphant grin, and Marley considered sneaking laxatives into his soda. She stood up, too, plastering herself as far back as possible so Austin could walk by. She held her breath, not wanting to smell his intoxicating scent, and then thought, Fuck it, because unless she wanted to die from lack of oxygen, she was going to have to breathe throughout the movie anyway. So she inhaled deeply like a weirdo when he walked by.

  Austin seemed to avoid touching her as much as she avoided touching him. He sank into his seat, and she closed her eyes, praying for strength as she slipped down into hers.

  Chad was still grinning. She ignored him.

  Austin craned his head in the direction Sydney had walked, and Marley pretended that it wasn’t adorable he brought his friend’s daughter to a movie. She pretended he didn’t smell like a total dream. She pretended he wasn’t the hottest man she’d ever seen in her life.

  “So, what’s in the pretzels Sydney can’t have?” she asked.

  “She has a peanut allergy. The new pretzels the theater sells are made in a factory that also processes peanut products, so she can’t have them, because her allergy is pretty severe.”

  He seemed to know a lot about the little girl, and her allergy. “And she calls you Uncle?”

  Austin smiled and looked down where his hands gripped his thighs. “Yeah, I’ve known her dad since I was eighteen. So, I was a presence most of her life. She’s like a niece to me.”

  Could she melt into a pile of goo in the theater? Because that’s what she felt like. A big melted, gooey Sour Patch Kid.

  The lights dimmed, and Austin straightened as the previews started. Most of them were for action movies, although a couple were comedies. Austin sat silently, gaze on the screen. And Marley swore he didn’t even crack a smile. God, she wanted to see his smile.

  When the movie finally started, the screen showed a montage of a younger Aric, chained to a cell as his wife was ripped from his arms.

  Marley tried to lose herself in the story, but it was impossible with Austin this close. Sitting in a theater in jeans wasn’t comfortable so she had worn a simple sweater dress. She crossed her bare—now shaved—legs so that her foot brushed Chad, not Austin.

  She kept her face turned toward the screen but her gaze strayed. Austin’s palms were flat on his thighs and his legs were spread. His pinkie on his right hand was close, oh so close. If he extended it an inch or two, he’d brush her bare thigh.

  She wanted him to. God, she wanted him to. Her back was tense, and she squeezed her legs together, wishing she’d done something last night to relieve this ache. She hadn’t, conflicted with guilt and unease over fantasizing about a coworker. But now, with his scent surrounding her, his soft voice in her ears, she told herself to get a grip.

  What was wrong with her?

  And then Austin leaned over, and she closed her eyes as the heat of his breath touched her ear. “Aric’s motivations are interesting, aren’t they?”

  She didn’t answer, just nodded, because she didn’t trust her voice.

  “He tracks down every last one of his enemies,” he continued. “His goal isn’t to rescue his wife, Evelyn. It’s to exact revenge, which makes the game aptly titled.”

  Aptly. He’d used the word aptly in a sentence. Why was that hot? Did she have an SAT fetish? Heat pooled in her belly and a bead of sweat dripped between her breasts. They ached with fullness, and she knew her nipples were hard.

  The soft, seductive voice didn’t stop. “He becomes so entrenched in his mission that he becomes a monster, not unlike his dragons. It isn’t until he’s reached the wife of his enemy and has a chance to take her by force, that he realizes he’s become exactly what he hated.”

  She turned her head, so that her lips were an inch away from his. Those eyes flickered in the light of the screen. She somehow found her voice and forced it through her vocal chords. “That’s the turning p
oint in the game, when he changes his mission of revenge to one of rescue. He takes back what’s his.”

  His chest rose and fell. “And do you think that’s appropriate?”

  She could close the distance, just an inch, and those lips would be on hers. What would they feel like? Would he kiss hard or soft? Would he grip her jaw and direct the kiss? “Do I think what’s appropriate?”

  He licked his lips and she felt the wet heat of that tongue on the edge of her lower lip. “That he takes what’s his.”

  She released a breath, and his eyelids drifted shut.

  She needed to leave. She had to get away from him before she hiked up her skirt and straddled him with his friend’s daughter, and her brother, and everyone and God as witnesses.

  Jerking away from him, she stood up, mumbling, “Excuse me,” to a confused Chad. She slipped past him and out of the movie theater.

  She dashed out into the lobby and burst into the bathroom. She leaned over the sink and stared at her reflection. The blush on her cheeks extended down her neck and across her chest. Her breasts looked swollen and her eyes glassy. Oh God, she looked drugged.

  Drugged on that man with his big words.

  He takes what’s his.

  How much did he interpret from that GIF he’d seen? Did he figure out that fantasy? Because as strong as she portrayed herself in public, in her office, she dreamed of trusting a man like that with her body.

  She wanted to lean her head back on a strong shoulder while he held her throat in a perfect grip, the other hand playing her like an instrument, with a rhythm only he knew.

  Marley shook her head and splashed cold water on her cheeks, patting them dry with a paper towel. She straightened her dress in the full-length mirror and then took a deep breath.

  She could do this. She’d ask Chad to switch seats. She could get through this movie and away from the incredible force that was Austin.

  …

  Austin had to talk to her.

  His control was dripping like hot liquid from the ends of his fingers, evaporating before it even hit the ground. He was gone, so far gone, over this woman.

  He knew he’d pushed Marley too far but he couldn’t resist feeling her out, wondering if that GIF was something she wanted for herself.

  Did she imagine herself in that role? Did she want to be that woman, with a strong man’s hand around her throat? Playing with her? At his mercy?

  He could give that to her. He could fulfill that fantasy.

  He shifted from his position outside the bathrooms in the lobby and waited for Marley to emerge. He wasn’t worried about Sydney. He’d texted her and told her he’d be in the lobby, and she’d texted back with a winky face. He didn’t know what that was for.

  The bathroom door opened and Marley walked out, then froze. Like she sensed him. Like a hunted deer. Her chest rose and fell and then her head slowly swiveled until she eyed him, tucked away into a secluded alcove.

  He wanted to tell her to come to him, but she had to make the first move. She had more control over him than she thought.

  Indecision flashed over her face before her chin lifted in a determined gesture. And then in a couple of swift strides of those long, shapely legs, she was in front of him, gazing up with huge hazel eyes.

  “Sydney…?” she asked.

  “She’s fine,” he answered.

  She nodded, and her tongue sneaked out to touch the corner of her upper lip. He let his gaze drop. He’d fallen asleep last night thinking about her blushing in her office chair and woken up imagining sinking between her thighs.

  And then to see her with another man at the movie? He’d wanted to toss the guy on his ass, so when she’d introduced the man as her brother, the rush of relief had been palpable.

  He couldn’t resist anymore. He had a plan he’d been mulling, and he’d come to a decision that morning. He just had to keep his identity secret a little longer.

  It was the coward’s way, but he wanted her with a bone-deep ache, and if her glazed eyes were any indication, she wanted him too.

  Only one more thing to test.

  He raised his right hand slowly, waiting to see if she’d flinch, but she didn’t. She only stared back at him with those beautiful almond-shaped eyes. He wrapped four fingers around the back of her neck, starting with his pinky and then the rest in succession, like a scale on piano keys. At his touch, she sucked in a breath, the skin of her neck pebbling with goose bumps. He wanted to latch onto it, lave the skin with his tongue until it was smooth again.

  He settled his thumb into the hollow of her throat, feeling the pulse beat there and then laid his palm flat on her collarbone.

  The flush on her face deepened, her eyes glazed, and her breath escaped between her parted lips in gasps.

  He caressed her skin with his thumb. “You like my hand at your throat?”

  She didn’t answer and doubt crept over him. Maybe he’d misinterpreted, maybe—

  “Yes.”

  The answer was so soft, so barely spoken, that he thought maybe he hadn’t heard it. He needed more.

  “Say it.” His voice was hard, flinty, like the striking of a match.

  Her eyelids, which had sunk, fluttered open. “What?”

  “Say the words.”

  A longer pause, but he was more confident this time, because her body was pliant under his hand.

  And when her voice came, it was everything he’d thought it would be. “Yes, I like your hand at my throat.”

  That was really all he needed. Moving fast, he turned her so that her back was against the wall in the alcove, his body blocking her from view even though no one could see them unless they purposely meant to be there.

  Her hands flew to his biceps and rested there. He waited, wanting to give her time to say no, to stop him if he made her uncomfortable. One word and he’d back away, even if it would feel like peeling his skin off.

  And then, with her eyes directly on his, she dropped her arms and laid her palms flat on the wall.

  The sight of Marley, submitting to his control, her full breasts and hips on display under a thin dress, had his cock swelling and lengthening in his jeans.

  It was painful.

  But he ignored himself and focused on her. He leaned in and ran the tip of his nose up her neck, angling his head so his tongue followed the same path. Marley sucked in a breath, murmuring, “Austin,” in that breathy voice that he wanted to play on repeat.

  He couldn’t wait anymore. He needed that mouth. And so he took it, tilting her chin so he could delve his tongue between her lips to tangle with her own. She tasted sweet and sour and feminine and he knew he’d never be cured of his desire for her.

  Despite her body language, she wasn’t passive in the kiss. She nipped at his lips and ran her tongue over his teeth, tasting him while he tasted her.

  His whole body was on fire and Marley was the only thing keeping him from dissolving into ash.

  He pulled out of the kiss and placed his lips at her ear. His left hand, which had been clutching her hip, trailed down the outside of her thigh.

  “You taste sweet, just like I knew you would, Marley,” he breathed into her ear. His fingertips skimmed along the bottom of her dress, and he reveled in the small gasp that escaped from her lips. He tapped a finger on her inner thigh. “Would you taste as sweet here?”

  She moaned, the sound torn from her throat and rippling over his skin as she dropped her forehead onto his shoulder.

  Her legs trembled beneath his fingers, and he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to know. He walked his fingers up her thigh, so she knew exactly what he was doing. So she could pull away or protest.

  But she didn’t. And when he reached her underwear, he ran one finger along her crease, over the fabric.

  Damp.

  “My sweet Marley,” he purred in her ear, and her whole body shuddered. “You’re wet already? Just from the sound of my voice, the touch of my hand at your throat, and the taste of my mouth?”

/>   Her breath heated his shirt at his shoulder, and her back rose and fell with deep breaths.

  Her consent came seconds later, a soft sound muffled against his shirt. “Please.”

  He rotated his right hand so now it cupped the back of her neck, his thumb caressing the vein on the side and keeping her face pressed to his shoulder. And then he hooked her underwear with the thumb of his left hand and delved two fingers into her wetness.

  She was soaked, her arousal slippery on his fingers, and he ran his tongue over the lobe of her ear. “Drenched. Could you come from my voice alone?”

  Her answer was a low moan, and he thought that would be something they could try another time.

  Don’t fuck this up, Austin, or there won’t be another time.

  He found the hard bud of her clit with his thumb and began rubbing in a circle. “Is that what you like?” he whispered in her ear. “A slow rub on that pretty little button? Or do you want my fingers, pumping in and out of your pussy?”

  She squeaked. At least, it sounded like a squeak, so he took it as an affirmative and plunged two fingers into her softness. She gasped. “I think both,” he answered himself.

  He kept up the rhythm, rubbing her hardening, slick clit with his thumb and curling his fingers as he pushed them in and out of her. She was active now, grinding her hips, fucking herself on his hand, small sounds escaping her throat. He gritted his teeth because a couple of shifts of his hips and he would come on her thigh. He refused to do that, because right now was about her.

  He kept her face pressed against his shoulder. “Do you want to come, my sweet Marley?” Her only answer was a nod, her whole body shaking and shuddering. “Ride my hand. Take what you want. And come.”

  She did. On command, just like that, muffling her cries by biting into his shoulder. He latched on to her neck, sucking the skin into his mouth, wanting to mark her.

  And then she was finished, her muscles still convulsing around his fingers. He shifted his hand on her neck to push her back against the wall, wanting to see her face.

  Her eyes were half-closed, her lips wet and swollen. She looked debauched.

  She looked beautiful.

  He pulled his fingers out of her underwear and squeezed her neck slightly, signaling her to look at him. To focus.