Play With Me (Playing For Keeps Book 2)

JENNIE

I have questions.

What have I done to deserve the life I lead, particularly the one obnoxiously thrust into my face this past week? Why has this man in front of me seen me half-naked on multiple occasions? Why did my toy collection explode in his hands? Why did Indiana Bones slap him in the face? Why did I kiss my brother’s best friend?

Why did Garrett just absolutely catch me jilling off with a motherfucking vibrator while maybe or maybe not—to be determined—moaning his name?

“What are you doing in here?” I screech, leaping from the bed. “I didn’t say you could come in! You left! You were supposed to leave! I heard the door shut!”

“I-I-I—” His eyes ricochet between my lower half and my hand. “Holy fucking fuckballs.”

I jerk my shirt over my hips, hiding my stupid, traitorous vagina. My occupied hand is shaking violently—the rabbit’s turned all the way to ten—so I chuck that bad girl across the room.

Mistake number one. Now she’s vibrating excruciatingly loudly against the hardwood, jumping around, and Garrett can’t take his eyes off her.

I rush him, shoving his chest. He doesn’t move, aside from his head whipping back and forth between me and my toy. “Out! Get out! And you shouldn’t have kissed me!”

“I thought you wanted me to!” he screams back, face red as he comes back to life. “I misread the signs!”

“Then invest in some fucking reading glasses, hotshot!”

“I’m sorry!” Gripping my wrists, he yanks me into him. “Stop pushing me!”

“Stop yelling at me!”

“You yelled first!”

“You saw my vagina!”

“I saw your boobs two nights ago!” His eyes widen, lips mashing together. “Okay, that was the wrong thing to say. I’m sorry I saw your boobs. And your vagina. I already told you they’re nice boobs.” He gestures at my lower half and clears his throat. “And it’s a nice, uh…vagina.”

With a groan, I twirl out of his grasp, burying my scalding face in my hands. “Stop saying vagina, please.”

He shrugs. “Fine, you have a nice pussy.”

I whack him in the shoulder. “Garrett!”

“Ow! Christ, you’re violent.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

He flings his arms in the air. “News flash, sunshine! I almost never know what the fuck you mean!”

“Women aren’t that confusing!”

“No, but you are!” He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. “Look, I wanted to apologize for kissing you. I was having a good time and got caught up in the moment.”

Okay, maybe I did too. Garrett is kind, easy to be with despite the awkwardness, and he makes all my hot spots light up like a glow stick. The man has somehow managed to flood my basement with only one kiss.

I’m chalking it up to the lack of intimacy and physical connection in my life.

“Apology accepted,” I tell him. “Now good night, Garrett.”

“Okay. But don’t be embarrassed. Everyone masturbates.”

“Right, but not everyone gets caught by a famous, sexy hockey player who happens to be one of her brother’s best friends.”

His eyes brighten. “You think I’m—” He stops himself, which is for the best. He thinks I’m violent, but he hasn’t truly seen violent yet. “I’ll leave.”

“Great.” I tug my shirt tighter around my ass, thighs rubbing, spreading my wetness as he turns his back on me. He’s tall and broad and he’s got the most phenomenal hockey butt, the kind you wanna grab two handfuls of and hold on to for dear life while he fucks you up against a wall.

Or whatever.

“Wait a second,” Garrett whispers, pausing. My heart thuds as he slowly spins, one finger up, seemingly lost in thought. Then his gaze zeros in on me, heated, playful, and entirely too dangerous as he takes one purposeful step in my direction, then another, and that heartbeat drops to the pit of my stomach. “You said my name.”

“I did not.” Totally did.

“Did too.”

“Didn’t.”

His eyes roll. “Garrett.” He drags his name out on a moan, head thrown back. He doesn’t have to grab his junk, but he does anyway, and I slink backward with each calculated step he takes in my direction. He looks like he’s about to make me his snack, and I’m not sure I’ll put up a fight.

I find a pillow and chuck it at his annoying, hot face for at least the twentieth time tonight. “You’re supposed to be shy, jerk!”

He deflects the pillow with a veiny forearm, and when he smacks me in the face with it, I gasp. “I’m not shy, Jennie! I’m just fucking terrified of you!”

“You sure look it!” I’m running out of space as he prowls toward me, and when I trip over my bag, Garrett grips a fistful of my shirt, keeping me on my feet. I have no idea where the timid, awkward boy has gone, replaced by some sort of alpha man, oozing sex and confidence, ready to take control.

And he still hasn’t let go of my shirt.

He throws a pointed look at the hot-pink rabbit still jumping around on the floor, though she’s losing power, dying fast. It’s the only toy I brought, and now I’m gonna have to use my fingers, and they sure as shit don’t vibrate. “Don’t you have someone to do that for you?”

I throw my shoulders back, judo-chopping his wrist to lose his grip. It doesn’t work. “I don’t need someone to do it for me. I do it myself just fine.”

“No? No boyfriend?”

“If I had a boyfriend, would I have kissed you?”

A slow smirk spreads. God, arrogance looks so hot on him. “So you admit you were an equal participant in that kiss.”

“I—” I point my nose toward the ceiling. “I admit nothing.”

“That’s too bad,” he purrs. “Remember when you told me I should work on saying what I’m thinking?” His grip on my shirt tightens, soft cotton slipping against my skin, revealing more of my body as he walks forward, pushing me backward. “I’m thinking I wanted to kiss you, and I’m thinking you wanted me to. I’m thinking you enjoyed the hell out of it, before you told yourself you shouldn’t, and then you got scared.”

I gasp when my back hits the wall. Garrett’s turquoise eyes fall to my lips.

“What’s the matter, Jennie? Where’s all that confidence gone? Nowhere to hide?”

I bite into my bottom lip to quell its quiver when Garrett slides one large hand along the edge of my jaw, angling my face toward his. His other hand lands on the edge of my thigh, fingertips blazing a forest fire along my skin as they trail up, up, toying with the hem of my shirt.

“I think you came up here to touch yourself while thinking about everything that could’ve happened if you hadn’t run, and I think…” His ragged breath dances across my lips, gaze searing. “I think I’d like to help you. I think you want me to help you.”

“Garrett,” I whimper, trembling as his lips ghost over mine.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Just like that. That’s exactly how you sounded when you moaned my name.”

I lift my chin and lick my lips, eyelids fluttering closed as I wait.

And wait.

The heat of his body is replaced by the cool chill of rejection as he releases me, his smirk nothing short of smug pride when my eyes flip open, and he steps backward.

“I’d sure hate to misread the signs though. So if I’m right, if you want my help…” He skims a thumb across his rugged jawline, scraping the stubble that wasn’t there two days ago. “You’ll have to be explicitly clear.”

A growl rumbles in my throat, and before I have time to comprehend my actions, I’ve thrown myself at his chest and buried my fingers in his hair. He clasps my ass, lifting me to him, my legs winding around his waist as my back collides with the wall.

The way his mouth takes mine is nothing short of possessive, ownership in its purest, most simple form. He can have my mouth, and just about any other part of me right now, and I don’t even know why I’m willing to give it to him.

Heels digging into his ass, I spur him on, pulling a groan from his throat as I arch against him. I’m hot and wet and I’ve never wanted anything the way I want Garrett right now.

Pinning me to the wall with his hips, he tears my shirt over my head. Never have I seen something as ferocious as his scorching gaze as it drags over me, lighting every nerve ending on fire in its wake. With a fistful of my hair, he buries his face in my neck, his warm mouth teasing, nipping, leaving a wet trail as it glides.

“Are you gonna let me take care of you tonight, sunshine? ’Cause it’s all I can fucking think about.”

God, yes. I drag his mouth back to mine, right where I want it. His tongue sweeps inside, exploring, tasting, taking. I want more, and it’s been so damn long since I’ve wanted anything, since I’ve felt like somebody wanted me—just me—this much.

Dropping me to my feet, he grips the back of my neck, spins me around, and presses me to the wall. Fingers dance over my hip, my belly, until his delicate touch kisses the spot I ache most, and I claw at the wall as tears of desperation prickle.

I don’t want the teasing; I just want him to fingerbang me into next year. Is that too much to ask?

So I beg a raspy, “Please,” when he traces the inside of my quivering thighs.

“Tell me what you want, Jennie.”

“Touch me,” I whisper, hanging my head. His grip on my neck tightens, forcing my eyes to his over my shoulder. “Please, Garrett.”

He skims my clit, pulling a shaky burst of air from my lips. “Here?”

“Fuck, yes,” I gasp as he strokes me slowly.

“Jesus, you’re wet.” His tongue slides up the length of my neck. “So fucking wet.” He sinks two fingers inside me and smiles against my shoulder when I cry out. “You gonna let me fuck this pussy one day?”

“Holy shit,” I cry. The dirty talk is doing me in, paired with the touch of another person, intimacy I’ve craved for so long, even if I’ve been denying it. “Who are you?”

His low chuckle sends shivers down my spine. Releasing my neck, he presses two fingers to my clit. “I can’t wait to feel you come on my fingers.”

“Fuck.” I grip his hand, lacing our fingers, pulling him closer and pushing him away all at once. He shoves a knee between my thighs, spreading them wider, and thrusts his fingers deeper, harder, taking me further than I’ve ever been able to take myself. “Garrett.”

His fingers move quickly, pushing me closer to that edge, the one I want him to throw me right over.

And does he ever throw me over it. Brings me up that peak, drags me right to the edge, and when he looks me in the eye and demands come, he tosses me over and watches me free-fall into oblivion, buckling at the knees.

Without missing a beat, Garrett winds an arm around my waist and tosses me to the bed. His knees hit the mattress as he tears his shirt over his head, and he crawls toward me, hitting me with a wink that has the heartbeat between my legs pounding.

“Do you want me to taste you, Jennie?” He taps my knees and they fall open for him. “’Cause I wanna fuckin’ taste you.”

I can’t answer, but he’s not waiting. He shoves his arms below my legs, grabs my hips, and yanks me down the mattress. Our eyes lock and his mouth descends right as I forget my own name.

“Oh shit,” I weep behind my palm. He wrenches my hand away in time for his name to come ripping up my throat as his fingers pierce through me, tongue flicking, mouth sucking.

Peering up at me with a smile so broad, so handsome, so fucking wicked, he licks his lips. “My name sounds so much better coming from that mouth when you’re screaming it for an entirely different reason.”

His thumb replaces his mouth on that swollen nub as he drags his lips up my torso, then licks an achingly slow path around one taut nipple. “These tits are fuckin’ perfect. Perfect tits, perfect pussy.” He pulls one nipple between his teeth, tongue swirling before he pops off, presses a searing kiss to my mouth, and disappears between my legs again.

Garrett’s mouth is exactly how I imagine heaven, warm and incredible, like sunshine between my thighs, utter perfection that forces my fingers into his hair, urging him closer. Each lash of his tongue is fluid, the thrusts of his fingers deep and powerful, and his eyes meet mine as he sucks my clit into his mouth.

My head falls to the mattress as his name leaves my lips again, my body shaking, quivering with the type of orgasm you only read about in books, the kind I didn’t think were real. And Garrett just buries himself between my thighs, drinking up every ounce like he’ll die without it.

He withdraws his fingers and gives me three languid, reverent passes with his tongue, licking me clean as I collapse, arms over my head. The light scruff on his jaw tickles my inner thigh when he wipes his face off there, and I shudder, trying to breathe again.

Garrett falls beside me, the mattress bouncing beneath his weight. “Fuck, you taste amazing,” he croaks out, all gravel. Our eyes meet, and when his drift down my body, I heat with sudden nerves under the intensity of his stare.

I scramble off the bed, reaching for my shirt, clutching it to my chest. I toss Garrett’s to him. He takes it for the sign it is, though I see the confusion coasting through his eyes, marring his forehead.

It’s less confusion, more curiosity, if I’m being honest. He doesn’t know what this means, and neither do I. That felt good. Amazing. But it can’t happen again.

Can it?

I slip my shirt on, sink to the bed, and pull my knees to my chest as Garrett stands and covers his ridiculous abs.

“You should go,” I say. There’s no force behind the words. I’d like him to stay, and I’d like to ride his face until I pass out from too many orgasms. Is that a thing? It should be. Anyway, if he gave me any pushback about leaving, I’d fold in a heartbeat, despite the confusion.

Unfortunately for me, he nods. Five times.

“I should go.” He adjusts the giant lump in his pants, and though he’s not asking, I wish I could return the favor. But it’s been a while, and I’m kind of…unsure. He’s probably had the Holy Grail of blow jobs. I’m competitive as hell and hate being bad at anything. Finding out I’m bad at blow jobs is not something I’m prepared to handle tonight. “But was that…?”

“Great,” I answer breathlessly, swiping my damp hair from my forehead. “Yeah, super great.”

“Oh good. Great. I’m glad. And you feel…?”

With trembling hands, I gesture at my sweaty face, then at my legs, still shaking with the aftershock of my orgasms. “Amazing.”

His head bobs as he claps his fist into his opposite hand. “Amazing. Good.” He backs toward the door, pointing at me with two finger guns. “We should do that again sometime.”

“Uh, absolutely.”

His face lights up. “Cool.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head. “No, we shouldn’t.”

He frowns. “No, we shouldn’t.”

“Carter.”

He nods, solemn. “Carter.”

“So…good night?”

He waves. “Night.”

Instead of leaving, Garrett continues to stand there, the two of us staring at each other. I’m still naked from the waist down, and I’m sitting in an explosion of my own fluids. It’s uncomfortable, but more than that, staring at him right now, his hair a mess, cheeks flushed, it’s making my lady bits all tingly again.

“So, uh…good night.” His eyes widen like he’s forgotten something, and he darts back over.

My heart hums as he looms over me, warm hand sliding along my jaw, fingers tangling in my hair as he cups my face and tips it up. His lips cover mine in a slow, heated kiss that lights a fire deep in my belly, and I fist the collar of his shirt, wanting to keep him close.

“Good night,” Garrett says again when he pulls away, then drops his lips to mine once more. “Night.” He jogs back to the door, waving at me over his shoulder. “Bye.” He pulls the door open and looks back at me, eyes sweeping over me, bright like the smile he hits me with when our gazes finally lock.

“Have a good sleep, Jennie,” he whispers, and then, for real this time, he leaves, footsteps thudding down the stairs, the front door closing behind him, the beep that tells me he’s locked up for the night.

I fall back against the mountain of pillows behind me, clapping a hand to my sweaty forehead.

Fuck me. Indiana Bones is going to have to step it up.