Game On: The Friend Zone Part 24

I know I'm not perfect. My legs are long, but not muscular because I don't work out. My hips are wider than I'd like, my b.u.t.t a handful, even for him. A s.h.i.+ver works over me. I like myself just fine, but I'm not perfect. I- "G.o.d." He swallows, the muscles along his throat working. "You're...I kept trying to picture you. So many times, I thought about you." Gray rakes a hand through his dripping hair, sending droplets over me. "Now? Beautiful seems too small a word. I could look at you forever, Mac."

His gaze travels up, taking in my stomach, which isn't a board, but smooth enough, and lingers on my b.o.o.bs, average size with pale pink nipples that point upward. The heat in his eyes has my b.r.e.a.s.t.s growing heavy, aching at the tips, and I arch my back a little, lifting them closer to him.

He grunts, a sort of "unh" breath of sound, and his broad chest hitches. Slowly, like it has a mind of its own, his hand lifts. The blunt tip of his finger touches my nipple, catching up a bead of water, and I feel it to my toes. I almost sink to the floor when he puts that long finger in his mouth and slowly sucks it.

Gray makes a little hum of pleasure and smiles. His large hand, so perfect for clutching a football and protecting it until he enters the end zone, engulfs my breast, swallows it whole. Warm, callused palms and strong fingers. The way he gently kneads my breast feels so good I can't breathe properly. His gaze is slumberous and hot on what he's doing to me.

And G.o.d, he's beautiful, his body so tight. Perfection. How am I supposed to keep from devouring every substantial inch of him? And then I realize I don't have to refrain. He's mine now. My hands are on him before I can think, running along his broad chest, over the small nubs of his nipples and down the hard planes of his abs. Jesus, he feels good.

Gray shudders, his head falling to my shoulder so he can nuzzle my neck. "More. Touch me, Mac. Please."

The blunt length of his erection brushes my belly. It's like a brand, catching all my attention. And I haven't even had my hands on it.

Without another thought, I sink to my knees and my mouth catches the tip his c.o.c.k, drawing it in before he can utter a word. The large head is smooth and hot, swollen so tight that it throbs against the roof of my mouth. I give it a slow suck, and a helpless gurgle leaves Gray's lips. His palms slap against the tiles as he braces himself, that long, lean body of his bunching with tension.

"Ivy... Sweet Jesus."

My thoughts exactly. He's big, and there's no way I'm getting all of him in my mouth. G.o.d, but I'm tempted. He's beautiful, substantial, and so hard there's no give to him. My fingers wrap around his base, squeezing, testing his strength. Gray whimpers, his hips s.h.i.+fting a bit as if he's trying to hold still.

I glance up at him. His muscled torso curves over me, a shelter from the water raining down on his back. Our eyes meet and his expression slays me-pleasure, tenderness, hesitation, as if he isn't sure how far to take things.

Give me all of you, I tell him with my eyes. Don't hold back. I want everything.

His throat works on a swallow. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip as he begins to move. In and out, a slow, long glide. "You want a taste of me, huh?" The whisper echoes though the shower. "Open that mouth wider and let me in so you can get it good." My jaw aches as I do as he says, taking him deep, and Gray grunts, his c.o.c.k twitching in my mouth. "Yeah. Yeah, like that. Oh, f.u.c.k, like that. You like me filling up your mouth?"

I hum, jerk his c.o.c.k with my hand as I suck him. And he shudders, his voice growing raspy. "You know how many times I stood in a shower, f.u.c.king my hand while pretending it was your hot little mouth, Ivy?" He pauses as if remembering, a look of raw pleasure twisting his lips. Then his hips twitch. "f.u.c.k, honey. Don't. Don't stop."

I couldn't if I tried. I have a vivid imagination, and I've thought of doing this to Gray. A lot. I let myself play, do all the things I've wanted for far too long.

All the while, Gray makes a gasping, almost pained sound as he pumps between my lips, the movement restrained, shaking in its intensity. He's drawing this out, letting me torture him. It makes me so hot that I close my eyes, pull him in, run my tongue over every inch that I can, show him how much I love this. I've done this before, but not like this. Not with Gray, not holding back, savoring every gorgeous inch. And I've underestimated how good it would feel to give him pleasure.

Gray. Delicious Gray, whose hard body and hot skin drive me insane. I run my hands up his thighs to cup the taut swells of his a.s.s. G.o.d, his a.s.s. It flexes tight with each thrust. I suck harder, faster, and he moans, his body s.h.i.+vering.

Somehow I know he's close. I can feel all that restrained energy rising up in him, ready to break free. But then he's out of my mouth, the sound a smacking pop, and he's hauling me up, pus.h.i.+ng me against the wall as his mouth takes mine.

It's almost frightening the way I lose all sense of myself. There's only him, his mouth, his warmth. He kisses me there against the tiles, my b.u.t.t cupped in his big hands. My legs wrap around his waist, and he lifts me as if I weigh nothing. I can't get over his insane strength and how he never uses it against me but in only service of me. I don't want to leave this spot. Ever.

Then my attention s.h.i.+fts. To the heat of his c.o.c.k, and the fact that it's between my spread legs, the rounded crown at my opening. Gray notices too, and he trembles, s.h.i.+fting his grip a bit.

My breath hitches as just the tip of him sinks in, spreading me. I thought he was big in my mouth. He's immense now. All I can think about.

Gray stills, his muscles bunching with effort. "We... h.e.l.l... We should stop."

My eyes snap open. "We should?"

The corner of his mouth curls in a weak smile at the sound of my protest. But he can't hold that smile. "Okay, not stop. Move locations. This means something to me. And I want-I should do right by you. Take you to bed."

I cup his cheek, press the corner of my mouth against his, just breathe the same air as him. "It's you, Gray. That's all I need to make it special."

His skin pebbles, and he nods once. "Get a condom, then?" And then his expression falls. "f.u.c.k. f.u.c.k. I don't have..." He expels a breath. "I didn't plan on tonight."

Half of my attention is on his c.o.c.k, still there, teasing me, making me feel empty and wanting. "We're both clean. I'm on the pill." I hold his gaze. "Unless there have been others since-"

"No." It's almost a shout. He rests his forehead against mine. "Only you. It's only ever you now, Ivy."

"Then-" I wiggle, moving against him, making him pant. "Can we..."

He gives me a soft kiss. "Tell me you're my girl."

I kiss him back. Soft. Light. "I'm yours. And you're my guy."

"f.u.c.k yeah, I am." He smiles as he nuzzles my nose with his. And though I'm so hot, so ready for him, tenderness has my chest aching. His breath gusts over my lips, his lashes lowering. "I know you wanted it slow, soft. But...s.h.i.+t, honey, I don't...I don't think I can the first time. I'll try-"

I kiss his lips, quiet him, my thighs gripping tighter, drawing him closer. He shudders around me. I shudder too. It's been a long time, and he's big. But the stretch of him feels so good, it highlights that aching emptiness inside of me. My voice is breathy, impatient. "I don't need it slow. I just need you. Now."

He nods, kissing me almost absently. "Okay. Okay. Just...f.u.c.k." He groans, moving in a bit deeper. "Tell me to stop. Any time you want me to stop. I will."

"Now, Gray."

"Bossy." He's grinning.

"Cupcake."

"f.u.c.king love when you call me that." He thrusts upward, and I groan, pus.h.i.+ng my body down onto his c.o.c.k, needing more.

His gaze locks with mine, our lips brus.h.i.+ng, tickling with each breath. As if he can't help himself, he licks into my mouth, tastes me as he pushes again. "You're perfect," he says. "Perfect."

And then he's fully in, so deep and solid it throbs. The crinkly hairs at his base rub my c.l.i.t with each hard pump of his hips. And I've died. Because it's too much. Too good.

"Perfect," I whisper, holding on tight.

Gray

I think I'm going to die. My chest feels like it's about to crack open, expose my heart and leave me wasted on the floor. I've never had s.e.x with someone who mattered to me. It's almost too much to handle. Because this is Ivy.

I'm inside Ivy. Finally inside Ivy. No barriers. Her tight, wet heat clasping my d.i.c.k so good I have to grit my teeth to keep from shouting.

My fingers sink into her plump, sweet a.s.s, spreading her wider as I thrust. Hard. Deep. Steady. No more talk. Just Ivy. Having Ivy. Her long legs are wrapped around me, holding on tight. Water rains down on my back, slides over us, makes Ivy's smooth skin slick, wet. It's heaven.

Ivy utters a little whimper, like she's as impatient and needy as I am. She cups my cheeks, finds my mouth. Wet lips, soft tongue. She kisses me as if I'm the best thing she's ever tasted. And, f.u.c.k, it screws with my head. I want to cry, or laugh, or both. I don't understand it, but I don't want this to end. It's agony and perfection all at once.

I angle my head, opening my mouth wider for her, thrust my tongue into her warm mouth. I kiss her until I can't breathe, get f.u.c.king dizzy on her taste. And Ivy makes that hot, feminine whimper again.

It's too much. I'm losing my mind.

I pump into Ivy. Harder. Harder. I should be gentle. Slow. I can't. I want to pound myself into her until I'm a part of her. Our lips slide apart, our movements too frantic now for kissing. My face burrows into the crook of her neck, my mouth open on her soft skin.

"Ivy." I'm saying it over and over, with each thrust. Ivy, Ivy, Ivy. I don't even know why. I want to tell her better things. That she's everything to me. The best part of me. That I'll take care of her, protect her-from what I don't know. But I will. I'll keep her safe and happy. Because it's my job. The most important job I'll ever have.

But all I can say is her name, f.u.c.k her like I'm about to die.

She's panting now, her slim arms sliding over the wet tiles, as if she's trying to get away from the pleasure and reach for it all at once. Her thighs clamp down on my waist as she arches her hips into mine. And those sweet-as-f.u.c.k t.i.ts lift high. I haven't even gotten a taste of them.

I duck my head, capture a pink nipple, and suck it in deep, lick the stiff little nub, flick it with my tongue. And she loves it, her p.u.s.s.y milking my d.i.c.k as she cups my head and writhes.

f.u.c.k yeah. Heat washes down my back, up my thighs. My b.a.l.l.s draw tight, my d.i.c.k pulsing.

I grind against her, feel her clench as she comes, her cries echoing throughout the shower. And then I'm the one crying out. I don't even recognize the sounds I make. They're desperate, loud and disjointed. I lose sight of Ivy, of myself. It feels so f.u.c.king good that, for a moment, I truly wonder if I am going to die. But I won't, because nothing, nothing, is going to keep me from doing this again. And again. Because I'm Ivy's. Forever.

Twenty-One.

Gray

There is something utterly satisfying about taking Mac out as her guy. This time when she dances in her crazy way, I can hold her close, run my hands over her curves, duck my head and breathe in her luscious scent. And when we sit with the guys, I can pull her in my lap and kiss my way across her neck, taste her smiling mouth. And she cuddles me back, pets my hair, touches me as though I'm her own personal plaything. Which I am. In short: Best. Night. Out. Ever.

Mac is happy-buzzing by the time we leave Palmers and is singing Prince's Raspberry Beret. Only it comes out as a throaty but off-key, "Raspberry bidet. I'm trying to find the helping hands floor."

I don't even bother to hide my laugh as she side-dances toward my truck. Alcohol does not improve her technique. If anything, her long limbs are even more uncoordinated, moving to a rhythm apparently only she hears. I can't help but drink her in as she flails about, until she bangs into an unsuspecting trashcan, nearly knocking it, and herself, over.

"Who put that there?" she says in outrage before leaning against it and snickering in little bursts of sloppy glee. In the yellow brightness of the streetlight, her eyes s.h.i.+ne like onyx as she looks at me. "Get over here, Cupcake."

My back hurts from purposely dancing badly to help her again, and I've got an early wakeup, but I don't want the night to end. "So now I'm your beck-and-call boy?" I ask, as I head over to her.

Mac snickers again. "Call boy. Get it?"

Rolling my eyes, I stop in front of her, close enough to catch her should she fall. "Yeah, I get it, Mac. You're hilarious."

She's so d.a.m.n cute at this moment that I'm tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear and running my thumb along the edge of her jaw.

"Mmmm..." It's a near-purr of sound, way too throaty. Her warm hands clasp my waist, holding me steady as if I'm the one who's about to fall. Dark eyes, peer up at me. "I totally am."

"Am what?" I'm drawing a blank, distracted by the sweet curve of her lower lip and the way it's jutting out in a little pout. I lean down to claim as soft kiss. G.o.d, she is delicious-the sweet tartness of margaritas mixed with pure Ivy Mac."

"Hilarious," she says with exasperation against my mouth. But she's kissing me back, exploring a little deeper each time.

Her warm tongue licks a path along the sensitive edge of my inner lip-exactly one second before the tip of her left index finger steals under my s.h.i.+rt and runs lightly along the edge of my jeans. I feel the action like a stroke behind my b.a.l.l.s. My breath hitches, and my gut clenches. It takes everything in me not to cant my hips and beg for her to explore lower.

If I start fooling around with her, I'm not going to want to stop. The things I want to do to her require s.p.a.ce and privacy.

I draw in another deep breath of cold air, then gently take hold of her wrists and place her hands in front of us where I can see them. Mac simply gives me a goofy smile and leans in until her chin rests on my ribs. Her head moves with the cadence of my breath, lifting and lowering. The motion and her proximity to my increasingly interested d.i.c.k are weakening my resolve.

It begins to crumble when her gaze turns sleepy, her lids lowering as she peers up at me, her hands stroking my thighs. G.o.d, she's pretty, all flushed, her silky hair mussed and her lips soft and parted. My c.o.c.k pulses in protest. He wants in. My mouth just wants to claim hers again.

"My hands are cold," she says.

I cover them with my own, my hands so large that they completely engulf her fists. "Let's get you home, honey." My voice sounds rough and too thick.

"Okay. But I'm tired," she says. "Carry me."

At this point, I'm willing to carry her across the state if it means I get to f.u.c.k her. I scoop her up without another word.

She gives a little happy squeal, and her long legs kick the air as her arms strangle my neck.

"Easy," I choke out as I carry her to my truck.

We're halfway there when I see him. I freeze, my entire body seizing up. My knee-jerk reaction is one of fear, cold and tense. Rage follows on its heels. Rage that I've reacted in fear and from simply laying eyes upon him. Ivy lets out a sound of protest, and I realize that I'm holding her too tightly.

Ivy. f.u.c.king. h.e.l.l. My fear returns. I don't want her anywhere near Jonas.

I'm barely aware of setting Ivy down. She stands close to me as if she knows I need the support. I don't, and yet my arm snakes around her waist and holds on.

Jonas leans against my truck, hands tucked in his pockets, his legs crossed at the ankle. And somehow he still manages to make the pose look threatening. Maybe it's because I know he won't hesitate to damage my truck if he thinks it will upset me. The f.u.c.ker.

He's enormous, the small gut he'd been sporting four years ago now a full barrel. But his arms are still built for brutality. Then again, every inch of Jonas has been crafted and forged for aggression. The bottom drops out of my stomach as our gazes clash. It's been four years since I've seen my brother and still I feel sick just looking at him.

"About time you showed," he says by way of greeting. "f.u.c.king sick of hunting you down, Gravy."

a.s.shole. "I wasn't aware we had a date."

He sneers at the word date, but his eyes ooze over Ivy. My grip on her tightens. She hasn't said a word, but she's clearly lost her buzz. Tense and alert next to me, her fingers slide along my back and then curl around the belt loop of my jeans. I want her away from here like I want my next breath, but her simple hold grounds me in a way I haven't felt in years, if ever.

"I'm not discussing s.h.i.+t in front of your piece of a.s.s here," Jonas says.