Game On: The Friend Zone Part 34

Mackenzie is waiting for me at the bar. He's already halfway through a tumbler of whiskey. I take the seat next to him and order an ice water.

"You ready for the game?" Mackenzie says by way of greeting.

"What's that line?" I quip. "I was born ready."

"John Wayne." Mackenzie nods. "Cute."

"John Wayne, really?" I take a sip of water. "I thought it was from Big Trouble in Little China."

Mackenzie rolls his eyes. "Stop trying to make me feel old. Big Trouble was my generation's movie. Used to watch that movie on the couch with Ivy's mom."

The thought of Mackenzie with Ivy's mom brings everything back into focus. I take a breath and brace my palms on the bar. "Listen, there's something I need to tell you."

"Ivy already told me." His mouth twists. "Via text."

At my incredulous face, he hands over his phone. I read the text out loud. "'Gray and I are together now. Don't be p.i.s.sy with him. It's serious. And I'm happy.'"

Laughing low, I rub a hand over my face and give him back his phone. "Little wuss," I mutter under my breath.

But apparently not low enough, because Mackenzie gives me a look. "Here's a tip. My daughter likes to cut and run when she's overwhelmed."

"Already figured that one out." Ivy and I are similar that way.

Mackenzie grunts. "You shouldn't have touched her, Grayson. You know better."

So, Ivy gets her directness from her dad. Good to know. I straighten my shoulders and turn to fully face him. "Well, this is awkward."

Mackenzie snorts as if to say, No s.h.i.+t, kid.

I take a quick drink of my ice water before forging on. "The part of me that's talking to Ivy's dad says I respectfully understand your fears, sir, but I a.s.sure you hurting Ivy is the very last thing I'd ever do." My grip on my gla.s.s tightens. "The part of me that sees you as a potential agent wants to tell you to f.u.c.k off."

He laughs outright. "Then we're of a like mind, kid. Because part of me wants to kick your a.s.s for even looking my daughter. And the other part wants to warn you to keep away from distractions. Namely of the female variety."

Female variety. I want to roll my eyes. But he's not saying anything new. "I love her." He snorts again, and I give him a hard look. "You might as well hear it from me. I put a ring on her finger. We're engaged to be engaged."

Slowly Mackenzie lowers his gla.s.s and looks at me. His rough features are worn, pale. "Engaged to be engaged? What the h.e.l.l does that mean?"

"Ivy's words. The point is, I want to marry Ivy. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Are you insane? Kid, marriage is the last thing you need at this point in your career."

I figure now is not the time to tell him Ivy's pregnant. Plus, if we end up giving that news, it will be together. No way is Ivy wriggling out of it with a text.

"I know you think I'm like you," I say in a low voice. "But I'm not." And I really don't give a s.h.i.+t that he's now glaring murder at me. I continue without blinking. "Nothing on earth makes me happier than Ivy. And that includes football. So you can be p.i.s.sed if you want, but I'm never going to be the one to walk out on Ivy."

We sit locked in silence, the noise of the bar humming around us. Then Mackenzie sighs. "Well, then, if I was your agent, I'd advise that you keep your fiancee out of the spotlight as much as possible. I'd also advise that you play up your image as a family man, which will be difficult given your outer persona."

"Outer persona?" I ask with a laugh.

"s.h.i.+t." He grimaces. "Don't make me say it. Your looks, kid. Women go crazy over guys like you. They'll view you as a s.e.x symbol." His mouth puckers like he's sucked a lemon, and I laugh again.

"Fair enough," I say. "And as my father-in-law?" I'm playing with fire, but I can't help needling him.

His black brows pull together. "Ah, f.u.c.k, I'm stuck with your regardless, aren't I?"

"'Fraid so, Big Mac."

Grumbling, he throws back the rest of his whiskey. "Well, then, welcome to the family, kid." In an unexpected move, he grabs hold of the back of my neck and gives it a friendly squeeze. At least, I hope it's friendly.

Thirty.

Gray

Shortly after I leave Mackenzie at the bar, Ivy texts me.

IvyMac: I'm here. Dex already sent your stuff up to my room, btw.

GrayG: Wait, DEX got to see you before I did? Foul! Personal foul!

IvyMac: *Eye roll* That just means we don't have to leave the room when you get here, Cupcake.

GrayG: Keep talking...

IvyMac: I splurged on a suite.

GrayG: A suite? Babe, that's too much.

IvyMac: It's a treat.

GrayG: An expensive treat.

IvyMac: I collected wages when I worked with Mom. Now I want to spend them pampering my man.

GrayG: Pampering, eh? You're forgiven for Dex. Now, where you at, Ivy Mac?

IvyMac: SO glad I'm forgiven. :-P 12th floor. Rm. 1210 GrayG: Spooky. My room number is 1184.

IvyMac: Erm... why is that spooky?

GrayG: 1184 and 1210 are amicable numbers :) IvyMac: I love it when you talk nerd. So s.e.xy.

Hitting the elevator b.u.t.ton, I grin wide and tap out my next message.

GrayG: Almost there. Be naked.

IvyMac: Bossy.

GrayG: If you could start playing with yourself, get nice and wet for me, that'd be good too. ;-) Snickering, I tuck my phone into my pocket without waiting for her reply. By the time the elevator coasts to the twelfth floor, my d.i.c.k is already throbbing.

The door to suite 1210 is open a crack, and I smile, knowing Ivy left it that way for me. Heat and pounding need has my skin too tight for my body. I'm practically panting as I walk in, my heart thudding in time to my hard, quick steps.

Standing in the middle of the small living room is Ivy, wearing an oversized red T-s.h.i.+rt-and nothing else. I pause, take in the sight of her long, smooth legs, the way the s.h.i.+rt falls off one toned shoulder. White lettering across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s states, If you can't handle my Tight End, you need a stronger D.

A coy little smile plays on her pretty pink lips, and her dark eyes s.h.i.+ne beneath the heavy line of her glossy brown bangs.

She's five feet from me, but I swear I can smell her scent, sugar and spice and everything nice. l.u.s.t hits me so hard, I actually s.h.i.+ver, my skin p.r.i.c.kling, my knees weak. Something that sounds like a growl rumbles in my chest, and her eyes go wide, her lips parting.

I need those lips.

"Hey, there, Cupcake-"

My mouth is on hers, my hand cupping her neck, before she can finish. I kiss her like she's my only sustenance, going deep, licking into her mouth for that first taste. Heaven. Home. Delicious. And she's kissing me back as if she can't get enough either. It makes me lose my mind.

My hands find her a.s.s, and I haul her up, take two stumbling steps to the couch. Knees. .h.i.tting the cus.h.i.+ons, I maul her mouth as I fall on top of her, wrenching her s.h.i.+rt up to get at her sweet t.i.ts. She arches up, a little whimper escaping as I suck at one perfect nipple. Mac fists my s.h.i.+rt, pulling me up so she can attack my mouth again. I groan, my kiss so frantic our teeth clash. Her thighs spread wide as I tear at my jeans, my hands shaking so badly it takes two tries to get the b.u.t.ton open.

My c.o.c.k springs out, slaps against my belly. Fumbling, I cant my hips, find her slick heat, and thrust. Mindless, pus.h.i.+ng into that hot, tight clasp. This time we both groan, our breath mingling. And then I'm pumping hard and deep. There's just the sound of our flesh slapping together, the greedy, animalistic grunts I'm making, and the need for more and more. f.u.c.king her is a heady mix of relief and agony. I'm frantic with wanting Ivy, and I know it will always be like this.

Long legs lock around my waist, her nails digging into my shoulders. When she sinks her teeth into the soft flesh at the crook of my neck, my body seizes, and I'm coming on a strangled cry. Ivy strains against my hips, gasping, her p.u.s.s.y milking me with rhythmic pulses that have me pus.h.i.+ng as deep into her as I can get.

I collapse against her, weak-kneed and head spinning. Her arms come around my shoulders, limply holding on. We're both panting hard, my open mouth pressed in the folds of her s.h.i.+rt that's gathered high on her neck. Taking a breath, I manage a random, "Like your s.h.i.+rt."

Ivy's laugh is weak. "Thanks. I was totally going for a 'gimme a hot and dirty quickie' look."

"Glad to oblige." I smile, kiss the edge of her jaw. Gently I detangle her from the s.h.i.+rt, pulling it free and throwing it aside. Ivy takes my s.h.i.+rt off as well, and I settle back, loving the feel of her skin against mine. A few more awkward wiggles and I'm out of my sneakers and jeans. But my softening c.o.c.k stays deep inside her. I don't want to leave her heat. Ever.

Somehow we've ended up on the floor. I frown, not even remembering tumbling. "Are you okay?" I ask, touching her cheek. The fact that she's pregnant comes back to me in a rush, and I go cold. "s.h.i.+t. I wasn't too rough, was I?"

"No." She smiles. "You were perfect." Her fingers thread through my sweaty hair. "You always are."

"You sure? I had this whole slow-seduction thing planned, but you looked so hot, and I've been dying for you, and-"

"Kiss me, Cupcake," she says, tugging on my hair.

So I do. I kiss her softly, stroking the edge of her jaw with my fingertips. I kiss her as I carry her to the bedroom. I kiss her as I lie beside her, gathering her close, until we're skin to skin. This is what I needed, the scent and feel and taste of Ivy all around me. The tightness in my chest eases.

Never am I more aware of my size than when I'm touching Ivy, of how my hands span the sides of her head, of how fragile yet necessary she feels to me. "Ivy Mac," I whisper, brus.h.i.+ng my lips over hers. I hold her in my grasp as I come at her mouth again, sipping at her lips, tilting my head to experience her from a new angle.

Her hands slide over my back, stroking, urging me closer. We kiss with lazy slowness, learning each other's mouths over and over, until our lips are swollen, and my jaw is sore. But I don't stop. My head is spinning, my c.o.c.k a hot slab between our pressed bellies. It would be so easy to spread her legs wide and sink in deep, f.u.c.k her again. But I hold back, enjoy this simple act. It sharpens everything, sends my body into hyperawareness.

Our breaths mingle, the edges of our lips just touching. My tongue flicks over hers, a tease that I feel in my b.a.l.l.s. Sweat covers my skin and hers, makes me s.h.i.+ver. Yet I'm so hot, so drugged on her mouth, I can barely breathe.

Ivy moans a little, her hips rocking slightly. I know she wants to be filled, but she doesn't push it either, just holds onto my neck like it's her anchor and suckles my lip, slides her warm, slick tongue over mine.

My breath hitches. It's a struggle not to roll her over, not to go wild and thrust my tongue as deep as it can get into her mouth. I want those things. Yet this self-inflicted torture feels so good, I'm close to coming. Just from kissing Ivy.

And it does something to me, makes my gut clench and my heart pound. I reach up, find her hand that's burrowed beneath my pillow. Our fingers twine and my thumb presses against cool metal. Ivy's wearing my ring.

Mine. She. Is. Mine.

"Ivy." My thigh slides between hers, intent on parting them. But her hand grasps my shoulder, and she gives me a nudge. I let her ease me onto my back. "What are you up to?" I murmur as she crawls over me, nuzzling her way down my neck.

Her voice is warm honey over my skin. "Let me take care of you for a while."

I've had s.e.x more times than I want to think about. Girls have gone down on me, done all they can to impress me. But take care of me? Kiss their way around my body like it's some divine experience? Never. Not like Ivy.

My hands shake a little as I touch Ivy's hair, pus.h.i.+ng it back so I can see her face. "Hey," I whisper. "Turn around, so I can take care of you too." This I know. I want to taste her, lose myself in making her feel good.

But she shakes her head, her hands gliding down my sides. "Not now. This is for you."

Glossy brown hair slides over my skin, leaving gooseb.u.mps in its wake. Throat tight, I glance down, take in the sheen of her skin, those long, lean thighs, the way her t.i.ts sway as she moves. So d.a.m.n beautiful. The tightness in my throat becomes a lump, and I swallow hard, draw in an unsteady breath. "Mac."

At the sound of my voice, she lifts her head, her eyes meeting mine. I blink rapidly, my heart pus.h.i.+ng against my ribs. And she smiles, a soft curving of rosy lips, then presses a light kiss to my side. I feel it in my toes.

Ivy is trying to torture me, it's clear. Her sly tongue follows the line of my hip, runs along my abs, goes everywhere but where I want her to be. My c.o.c.k lifts as if trying to flag her down, begging for attention. Finally, she gives the head a lazy little lick, and I practically swallow my tongue.

She's done this before, but now, after kissing her for so long, I'm strung tight as a wire, sensitive to every touch. When she sucks me in, I moan so loud it sounds like a plea, my eyes squeezing shut, heat rippling over my skin.

My hand falls to the crown of her head. I hold her there, slowly pump my d.i.c.k in and out of her willing mouth. She hums, the vibration going straight to my b.a.l.l.s. My grip tightens. "So f.u.c.king good, honey. Like that. G.o.d, like that."

Ivy grips my length as she sucks, then goes so deep, her mouth sliding over her fingers too. When she draws back, her wet fingers trail between my thighs, parting them. I let her do it, my muscles twitching under her hands. She caresses my b.a.l.l.s, my a.s.s, all the while sucking and licking my c.o.c.k in a slow, steady attack.

"I love your mouth." Watching her pink lips stretch around my d.i.c.k is the hottest thing I've ever seen. And I almost miss it when her fingers slip down past my b.a.l.l.s. Almost. Only her fingertip circles a place no one has ever touched.

My a.s.s clenches, but I don't move. I can't. Her boldness has me off kilter. Blood rushes through my ears. Half of my focus is on her warm, wet mouth, the other half on that finger. It's kind of kinky, and f.u.c.k if that doesn't make my d.i.c.k go even harder.

She strokes me, the lightest of touches. And it feels good. Too good. With a little groan, she sucks me deep and then pushes that finger against me, seeking entry. I shouldn't let her do this. It's too much.

"Mac? I don't know about... Ah... Oh, f.u.c.king h.e.l.l." Her finger slides in, a strange invasion that sets my body on fire. "Jesus, f.u.c.k..."

Chest heaving, I fight to stay still. G.o.d, but I want to rock my hips, push against that finger. Because it's so indecent, so f.u.c.king erotic and good I grit my teeth, so close to coming that I can feel it rising up my b.a.l.l.s. And then she hits a spot that stops my breath, maybe my heart.