Play to Win

by A. C. Arthur

  He sounded so good. His tone, his words were everything she’d imagined hearing so long ago. Well, maybe not since she was just a teenager then and had zero experience with blow jobs or sexual arousal. But a part of her mind was screaming “Yes!” while the other part feared this was the first step to a colossal mistake.

  “I just wrote a book, Ethan. I did lots of research and I took psychology classes and I pretend.” She made the admission quickly. “I pretend I know what I’m doing. I act out everything that I write, but I don’t know. I don’t know how to do what you want me to do.”

  There, she’d said it. She was a complete fake. She could demonstrate sexual acts that she’d never experienced on a personal level and she could write about the origins of intimacy and sexual relations. But Portia had been involved in only one relationship that had lasted six months. She’d had sex with two men in the entire twenty-nine years of her life. And courageous or not, she couldn’t participate in a bout of hot steamy phone sex with a guy like Ethan Henley!

  Her temples throbbed as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She wanted to disconnect the call immediately and bury her face under a pillow. But she continued to take slow, steady breaths and hold the phone too tightly against her ear.

  Ethan was quiet for a few seconds before he said, “Where are you right now?”

  Portia blinked and looked around the room as if she thought he could somehow see her. She knew that wasn’t possible, so she relaxed enough to answer him.

  “I’m sitting on my bed.”

  “What are you wearing?”

  “A Mariners nightshirt,” she replied.

  “Seattle Mariners, okay, they’re not too bad,” he told her with a light chuckle. “What are you wearing underneath the night shirt?”

  “Ethan?”

  “Just questions and answers, Portia. No powerful words and no need for you to pretend,” he told her.

  Just questions and answers. She could do that.

  “Panties. Blue with white polka dots,” she replied.

  “Cute.” He sounded pleased.

  She smiled.

  “Take them off.”

  Her smiled disappeared. That wasn’t a question.

  “I’m here in my bedroom too,” he continued. “And I’m taking off my jeans and my boxers. Now, it’s your turn.”

  She couldn’t.

  But why? He was correct again, he was in his bedroom, wherever that was. And she was here. Alone. Clutching the phone between her ear and her shoulder, Portia slipped her panties down her legs.

  “I did it,” she announced quietly but proudly.

  “Good.” She felt like she’d earned a pet on the head.

  “Now lay back on the pillows. Spread your legs and touch yourself. You’ve done that before haven’t you, Portia?”

  He had no idea how many times she’d done that. She eased back against the pillows slowly, closing her eyes as she spread her legs.

  “You’ve experimented with everything you wrote in this book.” His voice was twenty percent soothing and eighty percent arousing as hell.

  Her eyes shot open, her gaze fixing on the popcorn-paint ceiling. “No! I mean, I don’t have a—” she paused and cleared her throat. “I don’t have a boyfriend and I haven’t been involved in any affairs.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend anymore,” he told her. “In fact, I made a resolution to steer clear of any emotional entanglements for a while. But when I need to, I can bring my own release.”

  She could too. She’d just done so about thirty minutes ago. But again, this was none of Ethan’s business. Why was she even talking to him, or doing what he said? Because this was Ethan. The only man to ever hold her heart.

  Portia let her eyes close once more as she forced herself to relax.

  “I know how to bring my own release,” she said and was shocked at how sexy she felt just admitting that to him.

  “So touch yourself.” The directive came instantly. “Touch yourself and tell me how you feel.”

  While a part of her mind still screamed in warning, her free hand was already moving between her legs. Her skin tingled as her fingers glided over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. When she touched the warm, plump folds of her vulva, she sucked in a breath. It felt different this time. In the shower earlier, warm water streaming down over her skin, she’d felt a familiar burst of need as she’d moved her fingers and the vibrator through her moist folds. Now, sharp streaks of desire shot up through to her stomach and down her legs. She gasped and swallowed hard at the sensations.

  “Ahhh yeah,” Ethan murmured. “It feels that good doesn’t it? Soft and wet, I’ll bet.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Soft and wet.” That’s exactly how it felt, and erotic as fuck.

  “I’m hard and hot,” he told her. “Press two fingers inside.”

  Ethan was hard. He was talking to her on the phone and had been reading her book. So he was hard because of her. Exhilarating. That was the best word to describe what that meant to her. She eagerly pressed her fingers into her opening. More warmth as tightness gripped her.

  “You feel good,” she whispered, not sure where the words had come from, but deciding to go with the flow.

  He moaned. “You do too.”

  “Deeper,” he insisted.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “More.”

  “Mmmm hmmm,” she managed, her hips lifting off the bed to meet the thrust of her fingers.

  “More, Portia. I want more of you.”

  His voice was different now, ragged and husky. His breath was coming quicker, almost as fast as her own. She wondered if he were jerking his dick to the same rhythm that she was moving her fingers in and out of her pussy. She wondered and she hoped. And in her mind, he was. She could see it as if he were right in front of her. Ethan was jerking his rigid length. Pre-cum beaded at his slit. She pumped faster, deeper. She moaned, licked her lips and moaned again.

  On the other end of the phone, he moaned too and whispered, “More. Yes. More.”

  His voice was so sexy. The sounds he was making so primal. This was so good. Better than she’d ever experienced on her own before. And then she erupted. Heat soared through her body, her legs began to shake, a tight tingling sensation pooled at her center and hot moisture coated her fingers. The moan that escaped her was long and slow, her eyes closed tightly. Vaguely, somewhere within the pleasure-filled abyss where she’d drifted to, Ethan made a guttural sound and then hissed as if he was trying like hell not to yell out with pleasure.

  Silence filled the room seconds later, the phone line, everywhere and embarrassment bubbled up inside her. She moved her fingers over the phone and was about to disconnect without saying a word, but then she heard him.

  “That was great, Portia. Your words were so powerful I came harder than I ever have before.”

  What was she supposed to say to that?

  Oh come on! She’d written a seventy-two-thousand-word sex manual, had starred in over fifty tutorial videos and lectured all across the world on this subject. Yet, she couldn’t think of one coherent thing to say when the guy of her dreams admitted she’d pleasured him.

  “Thank you.” She finally managed. “Thank you, Ethan.”

  She disconnected the call and lay on her bed for the duration of the night wondering what the hell she’d done, and why she hadn’t done it sooner.

  7

  Ethan counted without stopping.

  There were forty different beers stocked behind the bar in the Sky Box Lounge. This was Game Changers’ upper level where a cigar bar and lounge seating were available for group reservations or special events only. Black leather low-back couches and red ottomans provided seating for up to thirty guests in the rectangular shaped center area of the floor. While on one end a full-service bar allowed for an additional dozen guests. The other side of the room had been transformed to resemble a 1920’s speakeasy with its silver tin ceiling and black leather harlequin-patterned club chai
rs. Rock was a former wrestler who’d picked up the cigar habit while he was on the professional circuit. It had been his idea to add this section and so he made sure to keep only the best cigars, humidors and other paraphernalia for the pastime in stock.

  Tonight, was the frat party and a group of twenty-seven guys would be here within the hour to celebrate the upcoming fall semester. There really didn’t need to be a reason to have a party, Ethan recalled from his college years. Still, all hands were on deck to make sure the party went off without a hitch and that the customers still visiting the lower level restaurant and bar weren’t inconvenienced in any way.

  He’d been at the bar since early this afternoon, eight hours and counting. That wasn’t normally a big deal. All of the guys spent an insane amount of time working there. This was a new business venture, their livelihood and their lifeline. Except for Ethan, tonight felt like a graveyard shift that he’d never surface from. He’d been moving around methodically, doing whatever needed to be done. Checking inventory, stacking menus on both levels, talking to customers, bussing tables, working the bar, any and everything, he’d done it today. His body felt tight, a headache threatened to break through, and it had been two days since he’d seen or heard from Portia.

  The morning after their night on the phone, he’d sent her a text message. Just a simple “good morning”, but she hadn’t responded. He’d forced himself not to send another message. He didn’t beg, nor did he chase a woman who didn’t want to be bothered. Especially not a woman that he was sure had more issues than he did. That was absolutely the last thing Ethan needed to deal with. He had his own weight on his shoulders, no need adding more. But he couldn’t forget what they’d shared that night, nor could he dismiss the truthful words he’d said to her before she’d gotten off the phone. That had been the best orgasm he’d ever had, with or without penetration. And thinking about it that way was making him cranky as hell.

  “Let’s do a quick rundown for the night before things get crazy around here,” Del said as he walked toward the bar.

  Ethan had been standing with his back to the stairway that led up from the front entrance. There was a hostess station at the bottom of the stairs and a smaller one at the top. When he turned it was to see that the gang was all here. Del and Noah took seats at the bar, while Jeret, Lance and Rock stood behind them.

  “Make this quick, Del, I gotta get back in the kitchen. Those culinary school kids get delusions of grandeur whenever I leave them alone,” Jeret said.

  Jeret ran his kitchen like the Army Sergeant he’d been before volunteering for the Ranger program. He inspected the supplies, the food and the uniform of every worker entering his kitchen at least three times a day.

  “Think they can cook a hamburger better than you can, huh, Chef McCoy?” Rock asked with a grin.

  “Kiss my ass, Einstein,” Jeret quipped.

  Jeret had always called Rock Einstein because between the six of them, Rock had always been the smartest. Especially when it came to numbers, which is why Rock was in charge of the books at Game Changers.

  “Come on, we all know Mal Penning and the rest of his City Council ball busters are going to be watching us like hawks tonight. He and his wife already have a table right by the entrance downstairs so they can see and try to hear what’s going on up here,” Del said seriously.

  Del and Mal had a history. It was a dark and sometimes dangerous history stemming from the time Del broke Mal’s nose when they were sixteen and culminating with the reason Del resigned from the DEA. The fact that Mal was now in a position of authority over him wasn’t sitting well with Del. But as always, he was trying to handle the situation as diplomatically as possible.

  “He’s right,” Ethan said, trying to give his friend a hand with this meeting. “We have to stay on point tonight. No bullshit. The town’s watching and waiting for us to mess up.”

  Noah nodded. “They’ve been waiting since we all left the House.”

  “Because a leopard can’t change its spots,” Lance added. “Remind me again why we wanted to come back here?”

  “Because it’s our home,” Del said. “We belong here just as much as Mal and his family.”

  He was right. But Ethan knew what Lance was feeling too. From the time each of them had landed in the House, the good citizens of Providence had written them off as delinquent failures. That’s why they put them all in the same house when their situations had been drastically different. Nobody wanted to take the time or the energy to figure out what each of them needed to succeed. They just knew that something had happened with each of them, something they deemed so bad and unforgiving that they needed to be shunned by the good society folk of this small town.

  It was all bullshit then and it still was now, which is what fueled Ethan to work so damn hard to prove them wrong.

  “Maxie is the hostess up here tonight and Joy will be downstairs,” Del continued. He stared down at his clipboard as if the words there would somehow erase the anger, resentment and hurt they all felt at the hands of the good citizens of Providence.

  “I’m going to be up here helping Mickey at the cigar bar,” Rock said.

  Del nodded.

  “I’m good at the bar alone,” Ethan told him. “But two servers on the floor would be good.”

  “Right,” Del said as he scribbled notes. “I’ll send Glory and Kasey up here.”

  Ethan agreed. They were both experienced and dealt well with all types of customers.

  “I’ll manage the bar downstairs,” Lance said. “Camy’s agreed to help out tonight. She’s on her way in and we’ve got four more on staff down there.”

  “I’ve got two-line cooks and four preppers in the kitchen,” Jeret added.

  “I can work the floor,” Noah stated. “Make sure everybody has everything they need and nobody drops any balls.”

  Del nodded. “You take the floor up here and I’ll work downstairs.”

  “Cool.” Noah nodded.

  “We’ve got this,” Ethan said. “And fuck anybody who thinks differently.”

  Del’s head shot up at his words.

  Lance stood with his feet spread apart, arms folded over his chest. “I concur.”

  Ethan turned back to counting his bottles and checking the rest of his stock before the meeting was convened. He just figured everyone would move on to their assignments. He should’ve known better.

  “You okay?” Noah asked.

  Ethan looked over his shoulder to see that Noah and Lance were still standing at the bar.

  “Yeah. I’m good. You?” he asked.

  “You’ve been a little short the past couple of days,” Noah said.

  “No. I haven’t.”

  “Yeah,” Lance said with a nod. “You have. Not with customers, because you’re always good with them. But in general and with us, you’re different.”

  Ethan sighed. “Is this about the other day? Look, I shouldn’t have said anything about your vow of celibacy in mixed company, but you were asking for a comeback.”

  “Why? Because I was talking about Portia Merin?” Lance tried to look confused even though he knew damn well what he was doing.

  “No,” Ethan replied tightly. “Because you were being an ass.”

  Lance nodded and tossed a knowing look over to Noah. “Told ya,” he said.

  Noah nodded in return. “Yes, you did,” he answered.

  “What the hell are you two talking about?” Ethan began counting the glasses lined in neat rows on a tray.

  “You always were a little touchy about Plain Portia,” Noah said.

  Ethan sent him a heated glare and opened his mouth to speak. But Noah held up both hands as if in surrender. “I know. I know. Her name is Portia. You used to do that when we were in school too.”

  Ethan could see where this was going and knew he wasn’t going to like it.

  “You’ve seen her since she’s been back?” Noah asked.

  Ethan didn’t respond.

  “Rod said he
saw your truck heading down the street toward the Sunnydale house two nights ago when he was leaving,” Lance told him.

  “All roads in Providence lead to home,” Ethan said flippantly.

  Lance grinned and shrugged. “Hey man, if you finally want to act on that little thing you had for her when we were in school, go right ahead. I ain’t mad ‘atcha. I saw her at the post office yesterday and she’s looking pretty good.”

  Ethan stopped counting the glasses, but he didn’t look up at Lance. He didn’t need to. Again, Lance knew exactly what he was doing.

  “There was never anything between me and Portia. She was a sophomore and we were seniors,” Ethan said. But even to his own ears the words sounded shallow. The only reason there’d been nothing between him and Portia back in high school was the fact that he’d been with one cheerleader after another, or some other senior or even the girl from the community college that had shown up at one of his games. Ethan hadn’t made a move toward Portia, even though he’d always felt drawn to her in some way, because he’d been too busy with everything and everyone else. What nobody else knew was that he’d decided that was the best route to take.

  He wasn’t sure if that had been a mistake back then, or if it was now coming back to haunt him because since she’d returned, he hadn’t been able to keep her out of his head.

  “Look, you know we don’t pry. We each do what we do,” Noah said. “But if you need to talk or release some stress, we can always burn off the extra energy with a basketball game.”

  “Or poker,” Lance added. “I can use some extra cash and you two can’t play worth squat.”

  “I’m good.” Ethan looked pointedly at them. “You both know I’m not in the market for a third strike. So I’m good doing what I do.”

  They both sobered at that look. One of the first things they’d done when they all came back together was tell what had happened to make each of them walk away from the careers they’d thought would last forever. So they knew his story. They knew about his ex-fiancé and the hot blade she’d stuck so callously through his heart.