Page 52 of Crazy In Love (Love & War #2)

“And irritatingly rigid?” I’m annoying myself, turning what was supposed to be sexy and flirty into a bad therapy session. I grab my knight and move it forward. “Don’t worry, I won’t crash your vacation.”

“Oh…” Visibly sad, her smile transforms into a pout. “I was about to say day one is for laying in bed, anyway. There are other ways to fuck, ya know? Slower, gentler, the not so frenzied version where a person still gets to come, but it’s not a competition of one-upping each other.”

She pinches her untouched bishop between her fingers and drags it diagonally just one square.

“I was getting kinda psyched for the tortoises and flowers and lazy days spent in bed. But I was imagining all that with you. Can’t fuck myself.

Well…” She snickers, coming around the table and taking my hand in hers.

She isolates my fingers, pulling them apart before placing just one, my pointer, on her tongue.

“I can. In fact, I’m pretty good at it. But I’d choose your fingers over mine any day, no matter which island we were on. ”

“Fuck.” My lungs spasm and my chest rocks with them. My cock grows behind the zipper of my jeans, crushed against the unforgiving material and desperately searching for freedom.

Without caring too much, I grab my bishop and send it three-quarters of the way across the board, settling it in enemy territory, sandwiched between her knight and an untouched pawn. “For the first time in my life, I’m considering knocking the whole table over just so I can undress you.”

She grins, staring up at me from beneath long lashes, and when she knows she has me, she suckles on my finger and scratches her teeth along the digit to taunt me.

“Not allowed to cheat.” She grabs her bishop and sets it almost toe to toe with mine.

Not quite. But close. “The anticipation is half our foreplay. I figured you, of all people, would appreciate that.”

“Me, of all people?” I take my queen and slide her to the left, switching her out with my rook to give her a little extra protection. “Because I like chess?”

“Because you’re a patient man who plays chess for fun, and you waited all your life to buy books for the boy who never got to enjoy them when he was young.

Also, I didn’t know we could do that move.

” She breaks character, her eyes dancing with humor.

“The queen whoop-de-do thing you just did. And it occurs to me now, you could do whatever the hell you want, move whatever piece you please. You could tell me it’s legal, and I wouldn’t be able to say you’re wrong. ”

“So I guess you’re gonna have to trust me.” I take her chin in my hand and draw her around. “Your move.”

Smirking, she leans closer and rests her chest against mine—it’s a hug, no seduction—and with her left hand, she mirrors my move. “If it’s legal for you, it’s legal for me. Queen whoop-de-do has spoken.”

“Your arbitrary naming of a move that already has a name would bother the more rigid, pre-Fox-Tatum version of me.” I select a pawn and push it forward. “But I’m a better man now. I’ve grown and matured.”

She studies the board and moves a pawn. “I’m proud of you, little buddy.” Bringing her eyes back to mine, she taps my chin with the tip of her finger. “So proud.”

“So fucking patronizing.” But I chuckle anyway, slipping my free hand into the back of her dress so I get to feel her skin on mine. “Getting kinda impatient that no one has lost a piece yet. You’re still dressed.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you thought you were.” Just like chess, she mirrors my move, digging her hand under my shirt and flattening her palm against my back. “Your turn, handsome. I’d hate to fall asleep before you touch my vagina.”

“We could reconvene this game tomorrow, and I could touch your vagina now.” I inch my hand downwards, over the curve of her ass until I can ascertain if she came prepared tonight.

Plug or no plug.

“No.” She traps her bottom lip between her teeth. “Figured you’d have me so turned on with the Saint Andrew’s cross thing, we needn’t bother with prep.”

“Your assumption that I had a giant fucking cross in my house is…” I grab my bishop and bring it back, out of danger of her well-placed pawn. “Interesting. Where did you suppose I hid it?”

Smug as a pig in mud, she grabs her pawn and slams mine out of the way, callously knocking it off the board and setting hers down in its new place.

“Oopsie. Guess I drew first blood.” Her lips tremble with a smile, then she tilts back and offers her hand, palm-side up. “Maybe it’ll be you laid out on the desk, naked, while I survey my prize. Shirt, please.”

My heart thunders and my cock thickens, but I peel my shirt over my head and let it fall to the floor. “Well played, Ms. Tatum. But don’t get too cocky. Kingdoms usually fall when their leaders least expect it.”

She gently scrapes her nails over my chest, over my hardened nipples. “It’s your turn. Pay attention to the game, not to what I’m doing.”

Fuckkkkkk .

I force my eyes to the board, but she takes my nipple between her teeth and destroys my concentration.

My body vibrates and my lungs collapse just long enough to turn my knees weak.

So I select a pawn and make my move. “Time.” I wrap my arm around her back and pull her in so she feels my cock.

So she knows just how much fucking pain I’m in, and how desperately I’d trade chess for her, for the rest of my life. “Can I forfeit now?”

“Nuh-uh.” She switches nipples, laving her tongue over my flesh until goosebumps follow.

Then she swaps my bishop with a pawn, knocking another piece off the board.

But instead of sitting it beside my first captured piece, she stares down at my cock and places it snug between the front of my hipbone and the band of my shorts.

“Gosh, Watkins. I was so sure this game would make me look foolish. But here we are. Pants, please.”

“You’re arrogant when you’re winning.” I unsnap my jeans and tear the zipper down, hardly upset by the fact I get to free my cock from its steel confines. Toeing my shoes off and working the denim along my legs, I peel shoes, socks, and jeans down all at the same time.

In just two captures, she has me in my underwear .

“Not entirely sure you should dictate which items of clothing I lose. The fairer loss just now would’ve been a shoe. One shoe.”

“Eh.” She trails her fingertips over my stomach, tracing the lines of my abs and licking her lips.

Because fuck it, she’s hurting for me, too.

“I’m not nearly as patient as you are. I don’t even pretend to be.

I’m just playing, because your brain turns me on as much as your body does.

Strip chess means I get both.” She tilts her head toward the board. “Your turn.”

Do I even have a brain to use right now? Am I capable of making sensible choices?

Evidently not, because I pick up my queen and sling her forward to capture a pawn.

Hardly an equitable trade.

“Your dress, please.”

She laughs, dropping her head back and treating me with a view of her delicate throat and the pounding pulse knocking at her flesh. “Sheesh. Cutting straight to the point, Watkins. You could have asked for a shoe.”

“I have no intention of allowing you to stay in that dress a single second longer than necessary.” And because I’m a gentleman and all that, I tug the fabric down, lowering to my knees until the bishop in my waistband stabs my stomach and the scent of her arousal hits me in my fucking soul.

I help her step out of her dress, stroking the back of her thigh, and when my nose and her pussy are on the same level, I dive in and bury it between her legs.

I just want to smell.

I just want to feel her warmth.

She cries out, fisting my hair and dropping an inch when her knees fail. But I keep her on her feet. On her heels, which is a million times better. Holding her up, I run the tip of my nose over her clit, purely to make her jump.

“Chris—”

“I’m taking my winnings soon.” I don’t taste. I don’t cheat. Instead, I straighten out and set my hands on her hips, dipping the tips of my fingers in the waistband of her panties. “Fuck, babe. Are you for sale?”

Her eyes narrow to slits.

“I’d pay you to walk around my home like this. Lace underwear. Sexy heels. All mine, where no one on the outside even knows you’re here.”

“I won’t exchange money for pleasure.” She pushes onto her toes and nibbles on my lips. “But I’ll accept your soul. I don’t think it’s too much to ask.”

“You already have it.” I slide my tongue against hers.

Suckling. Tasting. And losing my battle against casual, I pull her impossibly close.

“If my soul was the price, then the deal has already been made. You belong to me. I belong to you.” I press my forehead against hers, staring down at her slender body and the way her chest lifts and falls. Fast and heavy. Warm and reddening.

I sure as fuck can’t look into her eyes.

“It’s your turn.” I clear my throat and turn to the board. Anything to avoid confronting whatever expression she wears. Mocking? Disgust? Gentle taunting, or worse, a reminder she won’t be mine, can’t be mine, because she’s happiest in New York. And I… I can’t exist anywhere but here in Plainview.

She releases a shuddering breath, and without much thought, she moves her castle into an empty square.

I could take her pawn. I could take her castle. But then again, she could have taken mine, too.

So I select my knight and move it into an empty square.

Are we afraid to push on while my ridiculous declaration hangs heavy in the air? Did I ruin the mood?

Probably. I’m pretty fucking good with that shit.

Quick as a flash, she sends her castle across and captures my pawn, and before she can ask for my shorts, I counter by taking her castle.

It’s a fast one-two, over quicker than either of us can blink. But she smiles, at least. I see her in my peripherals, farewelling her castle.

“That was smooth.” She grabs her rook and sets it beside mine, so I take my knight and place it on her side of the board, joining the ranks of two of her pawns. “Do you plan your moves while I’m still thinking about mine? Because you’re pretty fast at this.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Which is surprising, considering I took the first two casualties.”

“War isn’t about those who fall first.” I wait for her to move a pawn, and then I take her knight.

“It’s about who’s standing at the end. You’re all about flash, Fox.

You want to be fancy and loud. I’m more subtle in my approach, so when I slice your king’s throat, you won’t even know I was holding my knife. ”

“Now who’s getting cocky?” She jumps forward with her queen and captures my bishop. Bringing the pointy end toward her mouth, she gently, without denting the delicate wood, rests her teeth around the tip. “Gotcha good on that one.”

“Pretty sure you owe me your panties.” I use my pawn—insult on top of injury—and knock her queen to her death, and taking my captured bishop from between her fingers, I set both beside the board. “You’ve taken heavy casualties, Ms. Tatum. What will you do now?”

She studies the game, counting her soldiers—plus her missing queen—then swallowing, she lowers to her knees, pulling the waistband of my shorts down and freeing my cock until my captured bishop clatters to the floor.

“I am the queen,” she murmurs, sultry and delicious. “And I still have moves available to me.”

I choke out a laugh, impressed by her wily game-playing.

But then she traps my cock between her lips, dragging my breath out on a gasp and drawing a gritty groan from the depths of my lungs.

With a swipe of her tongue and a skilled circle of her lips, she almost undoes me.

“Fuck!” I grab the back of her hair and jut my hips forward, slamming my length into the back of her throat.

“This is not how we play chess, dammit.”

“Sometimes a war must be won on our back, and not our feet.” She drags her tongue along the bottom of my shaft, circling my cock with her fingers until her tight grip almost brings me to my knees.

Suckling on just the tip, and staring up at me from beneath long lashes, she reaches between her legs and inches two fingers inside her panties. “Shit.”

“You lost your queen, so now you must suck my cock.” I rock forward and fill her throat. “You don’t get to pleasure yourself, too. That’s not how punishment works.”

Tears wet her lashes, smudging her makeup. But when I retreat to the very tip, preparing to slide forward again, she places her hand on my hip and stops my momentum, drawing a shaky, shuddering breath into her lungs instead.

She looks up at me with eyes that verge on innocent.

Vulnerable.

Sad, even.

“Are you okay?” Worry is like hot sauce in my veins. Concern, like an anvil on my heart. I wrap my hand around her biceps and tug her to her feet, and when she sways, I hold her against my chest. “Did I hurt you?”

“You said I can’t pleasure myself.” From soft to sorceress, she reveals a wicked smile and slips her fingers between her legs. “I say, stop me.”

“Fuck.” I jerk her into my arms and crash my lips to hers. Capturing her squeal of delight, I walk to my desk and set her down again, peeling her underwear along her legs until I’m presented with her glistening pussy, creamy with desire and throbbing with want.

With need.

“Longest game of my fucking life.” I fist my cock and pray I don’t embarrass myself. Fuck knows, I’m ready for her. “You’re pretty good at it, though. Just so you know.” I tug her to the very edge of my desk, knocking things from the surface so pens roll to the floor and book stacks collapse.

Normally, that shit would bother me. But not tonight. Not for as long as she’s here and her heart could be mine if only I said the right things. Did the right things.

I wish it were as easy as playing chess.

I line up at her fiery opening, teasing her entrance, taunting us both, and when her eyes come to mine, I race forward and fill her to bursting.

Without asking. Without warning. Without giving her time to adjust. Her pleasure turns to pain and her cry of delight verges on agony, but then I ride her, sliding in until her natural lubrication makes the glide smooth, then out again until her cry turns to caress.

“Jesus. Chris?—”

“Be with me like you’re scared it’s our last time.” I drape her legs over my shoulders and stare into her wide, panicked eyes, and hugging her thighs to my chest, I fuck her.

Like it’s our last time.

Like I might die if we don’t have this.

June fourteenth is a guillotine hanging over my head, and death comes too quickly. Too gleefully.

“Fuck,” I massage her clit with the pad of my thumb. “Sweetest pussy I’ll ever know.”