Game Planner

by BJ Harvey

  Somehow, the tour goes slightly off the rails when we end up outside a famous sex club, my inner angel slightly scandalized, my outer devil thrilled that Jase knows me well enough to make this a highlight of our trip.

  Two hours, two orgasms each, and a few drinks later, I emerge from the club more in love with this man than I ever thought I could be. I mean, so far he’s ticked off two bucket-list items in twelve hours, and we still have two days in the city of sin.

  After catching a cab back to our hotel, Jase doesn’t lead me back inside to where I was hoping to thank him with another round of filthy sex—this time without an audience. Instead, he takes my hand and starts walking toward The Strip.

  “Uh, babe, where are we going?” I ask.

  He turns and gives me that sexy grin of his. “It’s only eleven thirty, and everyone knows this city never sleeps, so why should we?”

  It’s rhetorical, but I find myself answering anyway, loving how relaxed and carefree he’s being. “Okay. So where to next?”

  “If we hurry, we’ll catch the next light show at the Bellagio. Then, whatever my girl wants, she gets,” he says with a gentle squeeze of my hand.

  Not long after, we’re standing in front of the world-famous fountain waiting for the show to start. Jase moves behind me as I lean against a guardrail, one of his hands around my waist holding me close, the other sweeping my hair off my shoulder so he can rest his chin there. He turns and presses his lips to my neck, sending a shiver right through me. “You smell like me.”

  “I like smelling like you. I especially like how you made me smell like you.”

  He chuckles against my skin, sending a wave of warmth through me. “I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy as I have been with you.”

  Aww fuck, he’s gonna make me cry if he keeps being this sweet, and I can’t even blame hormones this time.

  “I love you, like more than I love chocolate,” I say.

  He rests his forehead against my temple, laughing quietly, his chest vibrating against my back. “Or do you mean more than sex?”

  “Hmm, but sex with you is pretty fucking spectacular.”

  “It is.” He laughs harder as it hits me what that sounds like.

  “I mean, I’m good, you’re good. Of course it’s spectacular.”

  “Nice save, princess, but I know what you meant.”

  I let out a big breath, melting into his arms. “Can we stay like this forever?” I whisper as the fountain springs to life.

  “We can remember this forever. I know I will.”

  “I like that. I like this… us…”

  “We could do something to memorialize this weekend.”

  I frown, turning to meet his soft gaze, the lights from the water dancing in his eyes. “Like what?”

  “Matching tattoos.” He says it like a statement. It’s not even a suggestion; he’s deadly serious, and it’s then I decide that I’ll have to marry this man one day. Not like there was ever a question that I would. I mean, I already promised him my back-door virginity on our imaginary wedding night. I think I did that the first night we spent cohabiting at his house. He wanted to take the brown road, and I had to explain that it was sacred and a gift I was keeping for my future husband. He then flipped me over, used his tongue, teeth, and mouth to do unspeakable things to every inch of my body until he made me beg to come. He only let me do so when I promised that he would be the recipient of said gift when the time was right. It was with a look of fierce determination that he finally let me claim my orgasm that night, soon followed by two more.

  “You want to have my name on your ass? ’Cause I’ve heard that’s like signing the death certificate to your relationship, and I’m not letting you get rid of me that easily. I mean, I gave up my lease for you, and it’s not like I can kick you out of your own apartment.”

  Laughing, he grabs hold of my shoulder and turns me around, cupping my jaw in his hands and locking his eyes with mine. “Princess, you are the craziest woman I know, and I love you for it, I do, and even though it would satisfy my caveman urges to have my name branded on you and ruining you for any other man, I’m not risking anything.”

  I tilt my head and bite my lip, liking everything he just said. “I like it when you turn all caveman on me. I’d even be open to a little role play with you holding a club—”

  His eyes widen, and he barks out a laugh. “Oh my God, I meant I’m not going to risk bad luck with anything to do with us, but we can get something we both like. What do you say?”

  “Would you… get my name on you… if we were daredevils?” I ask curiously.

  “Princess, if there was no risk of bad juju, I’d get your name on my cock if it meant it would always be yours.”

  My eyes bug out of my head, my mouth dropping open like a clown at a carnival. He puts a finger under my chin and gently presses up. “But no, I’m not willing to take even an imaginary chance of losing you, so how about we end this hypothetical conversation now?”

  “You’d get my name on your cock?” I yell, grabbing the attention of the crowd around us, including a no doubt lovely yet now highly scandalized elderly couple to our right.

  Needless to say, Jase drops his hand to mine and grabs on tight, quickly pulling me away from the rail and toward the sidewalk. Conversation closed, I assume.

  It’s three a.m. by the time we get back to our hotel room, both of us buzzing with endorphins and having successfully each gotten our very first tattoos, in Vegas no less, both semi-matching. Mine reads “This is his.” His says “This is hers.” Both are on the left ass cheek.

  Lying naked in the bed facing each other, one of my hands resting on his hip, one of his resting on my thigh hooked over his leg, we lie there staring.

  “Wanna make out?” I say with a wry smile.

  He slides his hand up and grabs hold of my ass, his eyes widening when I squeak and wince.

  “Shit. Sorry,” he says, leaning forward and brushing his mouth against mine. I reach down and repay the favor, raking my teeth against his bottom lip and pulling back.

  “Let’s watch the ass-grabbing and just kiss for a while. We had crazy, hotel, monkey sex last night. I’m happy just to enjoy you right now.”

  He draws back and watches, his soft eyes shining back at me. “I think that’s the sweetest thing you’ve said to me. I should get a tattoo more often.”

  “Don’t you dare…” I begin to say then stop, imagining where else I could tattoo myself on him, his idea from earlier now having a little merit. “Well, actually—”

  “I love you, but no. Hell, no. You own my cock, but you don’t need to put your name on it.”

  “Could I put a ring on it?”

  “Any fucking time, princess. Just not in Vegas. When I marry you—and I will marry you—we’re gonna do it big.”

  I swallow down the lump in my throat, blinking rapidly to quell the gooey girly emotions coursing through me.

  “You like that idea, don’t you?”

  “Are you asking?” I whisper. He moves in, running his arms up my back and pulling me in close.

  “Not yet. Not here and not like this. But I will. You can’t bet your ass I will. That’s a promise.” Then he sets about kissing me and proving that while making out is all well and good, slow, lazy, side-by-side sleepy sex is so much better.

  When Jase Met My Family

  There are very few things I’m scared of. Spiders? Nope. Getting old? Bring it on. Jase having the bright idea to drive more than two hours with me to meet my parents? Um…

  It’s not that the thought of them meeting him scares me. I love Jase, and it was always gonna happen… eventually. I just never envisioned taking my boyfriend to my family home(s) to meet my Dad, his boyfriend, my mother—Dad’s wife—and her male partner. I mean, can it get more complicated than that?

  My parents are what I like to call free-spirited. They live virtually off-the-grid in Indiana on a piece of land they’ve all owned—yes, my dad, my mom, his boyfriend,
and her boyfriend—since before I was born.

  Coming up to my parents’ driveway, Jase indicates right and turns onto the beaten-down dirt track that means I’m home. There’s a huge banner made from wood, beads, and string tied between two wooden poles forming an arch above us, a sign I remember helping build when I was nine years’ old with Malcolm and Dad, Mom and Justice—his real name, by the way.

  I sneak a look at Jase, trying hard to read his thoughts. Why can’t I be a psychic, dammit?

  “I love you,” I blurt out.

  Driving slowly, he turns his head and bunches his brows. “What did you do?”

  My eyes go big. “What do you mean ‘What did you do?’”

  Returning his attention to the barely-there track ahead of us, he shakes his head, his lips pursed as if he’s trying not to laugh. He reaches out a hand and grabs hold of mine in my lap. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous. You’re saying I love you—which, don’t get me wrong, I know, and I adore, and I love to hear—but randomly, as we battle the driveway from hell? Never. So again,” he says, giving my fingers gentle squeeze, “what’s up?”

  “So, I said my family were a little different.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t matter to me.”

  “I know,” I say with a sigh, “but you’re saying that before you’ve experienced the craziness that is my parents and their life choices.”

  He lifts my hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to my knuckles. “I’ve experienced you and your crazy. That’s all the information I need.”

  “Hey!” I try to sound indignant, but my laugh gives me away.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Okay. I’m suitably warned. But I still say you’re worrying over nothing. They created you. And I love you, so I’m gonna love them. Besides, you met my family, and that went okay.”

  “Your mom and dad are like Mr. and Mrs. Cleaver. Just with more money.”

  “They’re just Mom and Dad to me.”

  “You’re the apple of their eye.”

  He shrugs. “I’m their only son. I can’t help that they got it right the first time and didn’t want to risk having a devil child second time around.”

  “Can you stop being so goddamn perfect?” I ask.

  Now it’s his turn to laugh. “Never. Now tell me where to turn, because I’m starting to think you’re taking me somewhere to dispose of my body.”

  “Not quite, but close.”

  “Fucking fantastic,” he mutters, and I hold my breath when a few moments later, my parents’ “commune” comes into view.

  ”Ah… baby, something you wanna tell me?” he asks, pulling his truck to a stop outside the middle house. To anyone else—okay, everyone else—the three connected houses in front of us may seem a bit strange. Maybe houses is a bit of a stretch. Picture three large trailers in an H-like formation with two covered paths connecting them all to each other.

  I undo my seatbelt and turn to face him. “Right. The house on the left is where Malcolm sleeps. The middle is for Mom and Dad, and the one on the right is for Justice. Mom lives part-time with him and part-time with Dad, and Dad is the same with Malcolm.”

  His forehead bunches as if he’s trying to get his head around the complicated sleeping arrangements of the four adults in my life. “Do they have a schedule?”

  “No, just a three-on, three-off roster.”

  He jerks back. “You’re joking, right?”

  I giggle and shake my head. “Nope.”

  “Shit. I hope you don’t expect me to share you with anyone else. I’m not sure I could keep to any roster.”

  Leaning forward, I hook my hand around the back of his neck and pull him toward me, meeting him halfway and pressing a fast and heavy kiss on his lips. “I don’t share my vagina or anything else. Not with anyone except you.”

  “Thank fuck for that.”

  I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, and I know we’re about to be hit by the four-strong welcoming committee. “Just remember, this family is built on love, and they show it freely.”

  “What does that mean?” he asks just before the driver’s door is opened and my dad grins widely down at my man. “Do they all share each other? I mean, have you brought me to some free-love sexathon commune?

  “Petal, you did good.”

  I bite my lip to hold back a laugh at the wide-eyed Jase facing my long-haired, wild bear of a father. His wide open-necked linen shirt shows far too much chest as he reaches in and pulls Jase out of the car. Then his arms are around him and—as Dad does—he squeezes the living crap out of my boyfriend in a hug that again can only be described as bear-like, before he turns his head and plants a big kiss on Jase’s cheek. He pulls back, and with his hands on Jase’s shoulders, he finally introduces himself. “Hi Jase. I’m Robert, but everyone calls me Bobby.”

  I open my door and close it behind me, quickly rounding the hood to stage a rescue, only to see Malcolm waiting for me with arms outstretched.

  “Natalie,” he says warmly as I let him wrap me up and lift me off the ground, swinging me around in a circle. “It’s been too long,” he says, lowering me back to my feet.

  I sneak a glance to check if Jase is still breathing, sighing with relief when I see Dad has released him, the two men closing the distance to where Malcolm and I stand. Jase snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me in tight like he’s needing reassurance that this scene is real.

  “Hi Jase. I’m Malcolm,” Malcolm says, reaching out his hand. Jase shakes it and smiles. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Our Natalie has been hiding you. She never said what a hottie she had,” Dad says with a huge grin.

  “Where’s Mom and Justice?” I ask.

  “They’re out the back, getting lunch ready,” Dad says, grabbing Malcolm’s hand and turning toward the house.

  Jase and I follow behind them, his arm still firmly around me. “You okay?” I whisper with a laugh.

  “I swear I just went to first base with your father, but otherwise, I’m fine.” His tone isn’t one of mortification, so I take that as a win.

  “Just wait till you meet Mom. She’ll definitely try for second.” And I laugh as I step forward and Jase stops in place, letting me go, his mouth gaping as he slowly—and hesitantly—catches up to me as I enter one of my family homes.

  “So I had to go meet with her teacher to explain that yes, she had three dads and no, she wasn’t lying to her class by using polyamory as the subject for her third-grade class project,” Mom explains. Jase’s eyes dance as he watches me across the table, my mom having claimed him the minute we walked into the backyard a few hours ago.

  “Mom, you really need new stories to embarrass me with.”

  “What?” she asks, feigning innocence. “I happen to love the fact you started advocating for our lifestyle at a young age.”

  “Everyone else, not so much.”

  “Oh petal, you got there in the end. By middle school, you were known for having four parents who lived together.”

  “Lucky for me, Mia had my back.”

  “She’s a feisty one, that girl. How is she, anyway?” Mom asks.

  “Pregnant and married, and shacking up in the house Matt rebuilt.”

  “And this Matt, is he a good man?”

  “He’s Jase’s best friend actually.” That earns a nod of approval from the three other men in my life.

  Everyone around the table goes quiet, Mom, Dad, Malcolm, and Justice all exchanging weird looks between them, piquing my curiosity. What on earth are they up to?

  “So, Jase, what are your intentions with our beautiful Natalie?” Dad says, his voice as low and as menacing as I’ve ever heard it in my entire life. He didn’t speak like this even when Mia and I got arrested for skinny dipping in Boner Lake after smoking a joint in Malcolm’s car while skipping school.

  Jase looks at me with pleading eyes. I’m sure my equally shocked expression tells him he’s on his own with this one.


  “It’s not that we can judge you for wanting to try before you buy,” Mom explains. “We just need to know this isn’t an extended trial with no intention of following through on the purchase. As long as there’s reassurance, respect, and a good old dose of romance, you’ll be set for life.”

  “Mom!” I shriek, horrified at being discussed like a common everyday appliance.

  Justice reaches over and puts his hand on top of Jase’s one resting on the table. God, I’m sorta surprised he hasn’t run for the hills yet.

  “What Gina is trying to ask is whether you two living together is a sign of good things to come? That you’re in this for a good time and a long time.”

  “You’re the first man Natalie has ever brought home to meet the four of us. That in itself says a great deal about you,” Malcolm adds. “Besides, she’s been planning her dream wedding since she was a kid. You can’t let all that hard work of hers go to waste.”

  Jase—bless his cotton socks—recovers beautifully, not snatching his hand away like he probably wants to do, but smiling at all of my parents and nodding. “I definitely want a future with Nat.”

  Dad lifts a brow as if waiting for further reassurance.

  Jase doesn’t disappoint. “I love and respect your daughter, and in no way do I plan to return her for a refund.”

  Thank you, God, and thank you, Jase. That man is so getting a road job on the way home.

  “Good to know you’re not gonna upgrade me for a newer model,” I mutter. That gets his lips twitching.

  “I’m a fan of the classics,” he replies. “The irreplaceable, rare, unique kind.” His eyes flash with heat, and I have to squeeze my legs together to stop from squirming. “Besides, I’m totally gonna marry her one day.”

  I stop breathing, totally not hiding my reaction to that statement.

  His grin widens. “You like that idea, don’t you?” He’s totally getting him some later, and he knows it.

  “Well, you said it in Vegas, but I just figured it was because we were in Vegas, and you wanted to get yourself some,” I say with a shrug.

  “Oh I did,” he says with a smirk, “and I did, so that is a moot point.”