End Game

by Samantha Wayland

  She cut him off with a kiss. By the time it ended, he was panting.

  “Rhian, I want you. You want me,” she said against his lips.

  “God, yes.”

  “Then all I’m asking for is now. Today. The next few weeks. Then we’ll see what happens next.”

  Nothing will happen next. He needed her to understand that.

  She sat up and clasped his wrists, dragging his hands up her ribs. His brain stuttered when a slow, sultry smile curled her lips. The pads of his thumbs skimmed satiny skin up to her full, soft breasts. He cupped them in his hands.

  Christ, he loved Garrick, but he had missed this. The heavy weight in his palms. The hard pucker of her nipples. He dragged his thumb over the stiff peaks.

  She bit her lip, and they both stared at his hands on her, her pink nipples and silk skin pale against his fingers.

  “We’re friends, aren’t we?” she asked.

  Rhian blinked and stared at her breasts in his hands. That was a hell of a question to ask at this moment.

  His lips twitched. “Yeah, we’re friends.”

  “Then you know I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

  He swallowed past the knot lodged in his chest and looked up into her bright green eyes.

  He believed her.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Rhian hauled Savannah up over him. He rubbed his face against the soft skin between her breasts, and over one firm globe. Then the other. At last, he drew a hard peak into his mouth.

  Her reaction was instantaneous and shocking. “Yes. God, Rhian, yes!” Her shout bounced off the walls and echoed in his head.

  He sucked harder and she cried his name again, grabbing his head with her hands and clutching him close. He licked every inch of skin he could reach. Laved one breast with his tongue. Nuzzled his face into the valley before worshiping the other. She shamelessly shoved herself into his mouth and groaned her encouragement.

  God, she was so like Garrick. Totally without hesitation. Asking for what she wanted. Demanding it. Loudly.

  He wanted to give her that and more.

  His cock ached, lodged against her writhing body. More than anything, he wanted to shove her down and onto him, thrusting into her ready heat.

  Shit. Condom. He needed one. Now. To say he hadn’t arrived here tonight prepared to have sex with Savannah would have been the understatement of the goddamn century.

  He hated the idea of leaving the bed and hunting for one. It was too soon to let the world intrude. Time and distance would only let his brain start worrying and his heart start panicking. Because really, what the fuck was he doing here?

  He released her breast as a cold tendril of anxiety curdled inside his belly.

  Savannah slid down his body and kissed him senseless. She attacked his mouth. Chased the worry away and replaced it with a tidal wave of need.

  He poured every ounce of his passion into the touch of her lips. His hands roamed everywhere he could reach. No sooner had his fingers traced the edge of her tiny panties that she lifted up and wrapped her long fingers around his cock.

  He groaned. She tightened her hold and pulled.

  “Oh shit,” he growled, lost to her assault.

  She kissed him again and he adored her aggression, falling under the spell she wove with tongue and fist. He raced toward completion, his hips kicking into her hand, the drag of his sensitive crown against her palm exquisite. He was on the edge way too quickly.

  He traced the back of his finger over her panties and the swell of her mons beneath. She jerked at his touch and spread her knees wider, urging him on.

  He hooked his fingers into the soft elastic and tugged the soaked fabric to the side, holding it there. His other hand traced down the same path, encountering nothing but smooth skin until he brushed the infamous “landing strip”. God, how many hours had he spent wondering what it would look like, feel like, after her naughty admission in the back of the taxi that day?

  He petted her there and promised himself he’d get a good long look another time.

  She growled at him. “Please, Rhian.”

  “So eager.” He chuckled, delighted by her demands.

  Her relentless hand paused on his dick and she raised one eyebrow.

  His laughter died and his plea caught in his throat.

  Clever woman.

  He slid the pad of one finger lower, into thick, hot cream and between swollen lips. She groaned and twitched against him. A needy sob caught in her throat when he bumped over her clit. He didn’t stop, pushing farther until he sank his finger into her to the hilt.

  “Rhian…”

  He liked how she said his name, held his gaze. She was here. With him. There was no confusion. No one else. They both loved Garrick, but this, tonight, was purely between them.

  She arched above him, impaling herself, seeking more. He flicked his thumb across her clit and she did it again, this time pumping her hand along his shaft.

  To say they fell into a rhythm would be generous. Guided entirely by the thrash of her body against his hand, they were enslaved to the heaving need, hips and hands working furiously against one another.

  He was rapidly losing the ability to reason out even the simplest things. He slammed his eyes shut, trying to block out at least one sense’s stimulation. On the next withdrawal, he added another finger, shoving harder, higher, urging her toward the peak. His own climax was bearing down on him with embarrassing speed.

  She whimpered with pleasure, gasping his name again. It didn’t help. At all.

  The friction from her hand turned hot, but like the search for condoms, he couldn’t abide the idea of stopping to find lube. He flinched at the dry drag of skin against skin, but it wouldn’t stop him from coming. And soon. His cock seeped pre-come and Savannah paused to rub her palm over his crown, nerve endings dancing, almost high with relief. Still, the next pump of her fist burned.

  And then her hand was gone.

  “No,” he gasped.

  Her grin lit up her face. She slipped her hand over his, buried between her legs. Her thumb joined his on her clit. His mouth fell open when one thin finger slid into her body, captured in her tight channel beside his.

  She fisted a hand in his hair. “Kiss me.”

  His mouth locked onto hers. Their hands moved in counterpoint to the kick of her hips. Their thumbs battered her clit. He swallowed the sounds forced up out of her chest, his own groans, as their hands fucked her, drenched in the flood of her arousal.

  His body throbbed, his cock bouncing off his belly, her thighs. He rolled his hips, trying to find some friction, some goddamn relief. He could have taken himself in hand, but he wouldn’t pull his hand from her hair, holding them close as they made out like a couple of horny teenagers, all hands and mouths and rapidly diminishing finesse.

  At least, he was losing all his finesse. Savannah didn’t miss a beat when she drew her hand away from her body. He congratulated himself on some semblance of coordination when he immediately replaced her departing finger with his own, plunging deep.

  He relished her groan against his lips, sure she would tumble over the edge any moment. Then her cream-drenched fingers wrapped around his cock and pumped hard and fast.

  He gasped into their kiss, her name little more than a whisper as he sucked in a breath and thrust his cock into her grasp. Her hand tightened in his hair, her green gaze locked on his face.

  That was it.

  His orgasm exploded from him, striping his chest with come, a howl torn from his throat. She arched above him, forced her pussy down on his hand, and cried out his name. Her fingers convulsed around his cock in time with each ripple in her tight sheath, tugging another racking shudder up from his balls.

  Eventually, Savannah collapsed on top of him, her face buried against his neck. She trembled, and he wrapped his arms around her back. He hadn’t begun to catch his breath, but already bone-deep tranquility settled over him. His brain hazy, he enjoying the aftershocks rippling

through the placid calm. How could he be this content when he was more certain than ever that he’d never find level ground again?

  Savannah and Garrick had completely fucked him up.

  The lull of warm skin and the long day dragged at him. His panic attack earlier had drained his reserve until only a mere thread of worry remained. Paltry against the waves of contentment crashing over him.

  Savannah’s fingers thread through his hair and it soothed him further. He loved her touch. Her endless gentle caresses.

  His eyes closed, his breath evened out, and he slipped into sleep.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Savannah woke at dawn with Rhian curled around her back, his face buried in her hair. His heavy arm and steady heartbeat told her he was still asleep. Well, at least his big brain was. His little brain was up and ready to tackle the day, judging by the pokes to her bottom.

  She and Rhian had fallen asleep early the night before—and without dinner. She’d considered rousing him to eat something, to make love again, but he’d looked so peaceful sleeping. He hadn’t stirred when she got out of bed to get a washcloth and cleaned them both up.

  She’d emailed the office to say she was working from home today, then poked and prodded Rhian until they were under the covers. He’d rolled toward her, and she’d curled against his chest and promptly fallen back to sleep.

  She hadn’t gone to bed before eight o’clock since she was about seven years old. She was well-rested, but also starving.

  And horny.

  The question was, which need was more pressing? Feed them? Or cement the change to their relationship in the most obvious and intimate way?

  He had no clue of her intentions for the three of them. And once he did, he was probably going to balk. She couldn’t blame him. Any sane person would question whether a permanent threesome could work. She’d had doubts, even while staring at contented faces of Philip, Mark and Grace.

  But then, she hadn’t fallen in love with Rhian yet.

  She had a strong suspicion that telling Rhian she loved him would put him in a panic. He wasn’t ready. Their emotional bond was strong and growing every day, but for him it probably wasn’t love—not yet—and even if it was, he might not be able to admit it.

  Or he might never fall in love with her. She’d end up brokenhearted, and in the process, have complicated matters with Garrick irreparably.

  Yeah, to hell with breakfast. She needed to touch him, to reassure herself that he was there. With her. That the risk was worth it. He’d only agreed to stay for “a while”. She wouldn’t waste a minute of it. If he woke with doubts, she’d erase them any way she could.

  She wriggled back until they were nestled together from shoulder to knee.

  His warm hand caressed her belly.

  He was awake. And he hadn’t leaped from the bed and run screaming. That was something, right?

  “Good morning,” she murmured.

  “Good morning.” His rough voice sent shivers down her spine.

  “Sleep well?”

  He hummed, burrowing his face into her hair until his lips pressed to the back of her neck. She almost burst with happiness. He was cuddling. And his morning wood was getting woodier by the second.

  She smiled and ran her fingers over his arm, along his hip. “I was thinking last night. After you passed out on me.”

  His laughter stirred her hair and tickled her nape. “Sorry about that.”

  “Totally understandable. I tired you out.”

  She felt his smile against her neck. “Yeah, you did.”

  God, the brush of his lips and the rumble of his voice sent electric shocks all the way to her fingertips and toes.

  “Anyway,” she said, struggling to stay on point, “I wanted to talk to you about something. About us.”

  As soon she said it, she regretted her choice of words. Her warm, cuddly lover went as stiff as a board—and not in a good way. She grabbed his hand and held it to her stomach.

  “What about us?” he asked in a perfect monotone.

  She gave herself a stern lecture to be patient. She’d expected this. And while she’d like to talk to him about the emotional aspects of their relationship, she wasn’t foolish enough to go there. Yet. This was about something far more practical.

  “We don’t have to use condoms.”

  He stopped breathing, his hand stilled. Crap. Now she’d freaked him out. She’d hoped the sex, at least, wasn’t going to be scary him. For crying out loud, he had sex with Garrick. She was downright subtle compared to him.

  “We don’t?” he asked, his voice several notes higher than it had been a minute ago.

  “Well, let me ask you something?”

  “Okay,” he said slowly.

  “Have you been with anyone besides Garrick in the past six months?”

  Rhian’s hand stroked across her belly and the tight muscles along her back eased. Maybe he could deal with this after all. She was usually good at reading people, but he was a challenge. In hindsight, she realized she should have had this conversation facing the damn man.

  “No. A little more than six months ago there was one woman. One time. And others before her, here and there. But I used protection. Always. And Garrick probably told you I only had limited experiences with men in high school. None since.”

  She nodded and refused to let her imagination wonder about the details. She could spend hours listening to those experiences, but now wasn’t the time. She focused on the practicalities and tried not to squirm. “Okay, then. I’m on the pill, and I’ve seen your blood tests so I know you were clean in Moncton, and again when you got to Boston. Garrick and I are also tested and clean. So, you know, if you want to skip the condoms, we can.”

  “Uh…”

  “And not just you and I, obviously. You and Garrick can go raw, too.”

  He liked that idea. A lot. She wriggled against his erection and he gasped.

  “Okay,” he managed to choke out.

  She smiled. “Great.”

  He shifted behind her, more of a twitch, and his shaft slipped along her wet, swelling folds. She rolled her hips against him, seeking more. His grip tightened, and he bit the back of her neck.

  God, he already knew how to press her buttons. “Now?” she groaned.

  “What?”

  “Maybe you could not use a condom now?”

  He shoved her down onto his thighs, his cock lodged harder against her pussy. “God, yes.”

  She looked back and he caught her mouth in a long, drugging kiss, squirming against him, his moan humming against her lips. They escalated from sleepy arousal to blazing desire in the space of a heartbeat.

  His fingers dove between her legs and circled her clit before plucking it away from her body. She danced in response, throwing her leg back over his as two fingers sank deep. Growing pleasure and mounting need forced her to cry out his name.

  Of course she’d wondered what kind of lover Rhian would be. She’d pictured him with Garrick, heard the details, but she hadn’t known. Would never have guessed he would be so forceful. Could so quickly and perfectly take charge.

  Garrick was fearless and demanding, sometimes overwhelming. She could imagine any lover of his being swept along in the wake of his confidence and authority. Rhian, though, was a quieter, gentler man. And yet, no less overwhelming. More than capable of sweeping her along.

  As if to prove her point, he rolled and smashed her face down on the mattress.

  Oh fuck, yes!

  He laughed and she realized she’d shouted that out loud.

  “Sorry, I’m noisy,” she mumbled, her cheeks heating. She’d been spoiled by Garrick, but maybe with Rhian she should dial it back. Garrick would be furious with her for even thinking it, but he wasn’t realistic about these things.

  Rhian nibbled her neck and shoulder and ground his cock into the valley of her ass. “I bet Garrick doesn’t mind,” he growled.

  His teeth tortured the perfect spot high on her neck and she bowed her head, encouraging him. “No,” she said into the mattress, “he loves it.”

  He hummed something that sounded like agreement. “I do to. I want to hear you.”

  Joy surged. His words set her free. She canted her hips up against him and he rocked forward, his shaft running along the sensitive skin and tight muscles surrounding her anus.

  “God, Rhian. I need you.”

  He slid against her again and sucked on her neck. She didn’t hold anything back, yelling about the wonderful things he did to her.

  And then he was gone. “No, please—”

  Her voice strangled in her throat when he lifted her ass in the air like she weighed nothing. Her knees tried to plant on the bed, but he spread her thighs wide with his, leaving her suspended. Her hands scrabbled for purchase on the fitted sheet.

  She was putty in his hands. A puddle of need. His strength. The way he moved her however he wished. Held her above the bed. Jesus, she’d never given any thought to what it might mean to have such a physically powerful lover.

  Now she’d never stop thinking about it.

  The plump head of his cock brushed against her clit, across the entrance to her body, and she whimpered, begging for more. He let her hover there, enthralled by anticipation and the utter loss of control. She wanted to shove herself back, impale herself on his heavy shaft, but couldn’t.

  “Please, Rhian.”

  She jerked with surprise when his lips landed on the small of her back. His tongue dipped into the divots to each side of her spine at the top of her ass. His morning beard ticked her skin.

  “You’re beautiful,” he rumbled.

  His tender words surprised and delighted her. She wanted to say so many things in return, all of which were lost when his cock slid against her opening. The head nudged forward.

  She groaned, glorying in the stretch. In the beauty of the connection.

  He lifted her higher, and, with a powerful thrust, slammed into her to the hilt. The dull thump of his pelvis striking her ass echoed beneath her howl of pleasure.

  “Like that?” he asked, his hoarse voice laced with amusement. His hips didn’t stop moving, grinding against her.

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