Page 34 of End Game

My stomach bottoms out, hits the floor, before lodging itself in my throat. “You’re still thinking about moving?”

“I have to, I think. I’ll stay around Chicago,” she says softly. “I just can’t afford the rent here with a baby.”

This time, it’s my heart that hits me over the head. I follow her gaze to the floor, feeling like a complete dipshit for not considering that. Babies are expensive, or so everyone says. She’s a fucking blogger. She can’t make much.

As I look back up at her, my chest tightens and I realize I don’t want her to be too far from me. The thought of not being able to drop by like I did tonight after work or have dinner delivered to her when she says she’s tired like I did on Wednesday really bothers me. Really bothers me.

“It’s fine,” she says, shifting on the sofa. “Really. I wanted to move anyway.”

“I thought you loved it here? You were just telling me how you like to look out the window and watch the people.”

“I do, but not that much. It won’t be that big of a deal. Besides, I might move in with Poppy since she and Finn are still on the outs.”

“They still aren’t talking?”

“Nope. She refuses until he apologizes to her,” she laughs. “She’s so stubborn. Finn met his match with her.”

Warring over what to do, what to offer, what to say, I fiddle with the hem of my shorts. “You know I’ll help you with rent?—”

“No.”

My gaze flips to hers. “I can give you what I make a year if you want to make an estimate about child support. You know I’m Branch Best, right?’

“I don’t give a fuck who you are.”

Her words are cast off with an angry tone, intended to cut a little with the sharp edges. Instead, a light has been switched on inside me and I can’t help but laugh.

“I’m not kidding,” she warns.

“I know you’re not.”

She bends her neck and grimaces.

“Your neck still hurt?”

“A little. Not as bad.”

“Face the wall,” I say, guiding her around with my hands. She does as I instruct and moans as I start to work the tense muscles in her shoulders. “How does that feel?”

“Amazing.”

She moves her body so I can get a better angle. I push and pull, kneading and pressing, working her little shoulders around in my hands. Every now and then she sighs or moves in a way that throws a scent of pineapples my way.

It takes everything I have to stay focused on the task at hand and not the task between my legs, as I touch her gorgeous body.

Her back arches as she stretches over her head, her ass scooting back against the couch towards me just enough to catch the spark that’s always ready to go off around her into full blaze. The burn is slow, the embers starting to smolder, as she sits upright again.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice breathless.

“Any time.”

She looks at me over her shoulder, her eyes radiating the same heat that’s coursing through my body. There’s a hunger there, a desire that’s unmistakable.

“Layla?”

She sucks in a breath of the air that’s changing between us more every second. Her lashes flutter, her lips part. Without thinking, my fingertips fall down her spine.

“I’m not sure,” I say, “if I’m not supposed to say this now, but goddamn it if you aren’t fucking beautiful.”

I lift the hem of her shirt just enough to touch the small of her back. She sucks in another breath at the same time as I do, her body flexing against my hand. Both hands grip her waist, the curve of her hip causing me to almost lose my mind.

“Careful, Branch,” she warns breathlessly.

My hands shake, fingers tremble, as I fight with myself about what to do. I want her. Maybe I even need her. But if I do this, it’s gonna blur the fuck out of even more lines that I’m having a hard time seeing as it is.

“If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop,” I say, letting my finger dip into her soft skin.

“I didn’t say stop. I said?—”

Leaning up, I capture her mouth with mine. It’s like an explosion on Independence Day, every firework going off in quick succession.

She moans into my mouth, the sweet taste of her breath causing me to shudder. I bite her lower hip, holding it between my teeth, as I work her shorts down her delectable body.

Arms are flailing, legs moving, as she gets rid of the fabric separating her from me. Off goes her bra and her panties, her mouth moving ferociously against mine.

“Damn it,” I groan. She sucks my tongue into her mouth, nipping at it with her teeth in a way that makes my cock ready to blow.

My pants fall to the floor along with my boxers and my t-shirt goes sailing, landing on the shade of a lamp. The light rattles around on the table. She giggles, never breaking the kiss.

I roam her body with my hands, cupping the globes of her ass, running up the arch of her sides, until her breasts are sitting in my hands. The weight of them, the gentle weight of each, causes a groan to rumble from the depth of my desire to be buried inside this gorgeous woman.

Leaning back on the sofa, I wrap my arms around her and pull her down with me. As her rounded body lies on top of mine, my palm resting against the back of her head, she kisses me like there’s nothing else to do.

The tempo slows, the licks of her tongue coming in longer, thicker strokes. Our lips burn from the onslaught, but not enough to make either of us stop.

As she moves her knees up along my sides, the heat from her pussy hovers over my thickened length. Her wetness leaves a trail down my shaft as she slips her body up.

Gripping both sides of her face, I press my lips against hers in the hardest, most forceful way I can—in a way that causes my chest to pull.

Both palms plant on my chest, she pushes away and sits upright. Her nipples are peaked, her hair spilling around her shoulders. Then she gives me my favorite thing of all: her smile.

Layla

“I think a condom is pointless, don’t you?” I move my hips against him, watching him grit his teeth. “I mean, I was tested again at the doctor. You?”

He squeezes my hips and his eyes close. “I’m clean.”

Planting my hands on either side of his head, I grip the armrest. Tilting my hips until the head of his cock is positioned at my opening, I toy with him for a minute. “You are so hard, Branch.”

“If you don’t sit down on me soon, I’m going to hold you down and pound the shit out of you.”

My laugh makes him open his eyes. He shoots me a slow, sly smile. “God, I love that.”

“What?” I say, still hovered over him. Every few seconds, he raises his hips, but I pull back far enough so he doesn’t part me.

“Your laugh. It’s so untainted by anything. You’re laughing because you’re laughing, not because you think something I said was funny or drawing attention to yourself.”

“I think I have your attention without laughing, handsome.”

“That you do.” He rises up from his waist and sucks one nipple into his mouth. Propping himself up with one hand, he uses the other to squeeze my breast as he works the beaded nub with his tongue.

“Ah,” I moan, my head falling back.

He scoots us closer to the arm rest so that he’s braced by the sofa. One of my knees digs between the seat and the back, the other leg dangles off the side of the couch. He’s hard, so worked up that his temple is throbbing.

Digging my hands into his thick hair, I press his face harder to my chest. He switches breasts, his hand taking the place of his mouth on the first, kneading it so carefully that I think I’m going to come.

I lift off of him just enough that I can palm his length under me. My body positioned just over the tip, I let my weight fall, crashing down on his shaft.

“God,” I moan, sucking in a hard breath. He bites down on my nipple, tugging it as he groans. We still for a moment, giving me a second to adjust to his size.

My body feels completely full, stretched to an almost painful point, but as he begins to move, I know I haven’t even taken it all.

One hand on each of his shoulders, I rock. With each motion, each subtle flick of his hips below me, a shot of fire scorches me from the inside out.

“You feel amazing,” he says, giving my tits a final squeeze and running his hands down to my hips again. “Your body is perfect.”

I close my eyes and soak up the sensations rioting through me. It’s a wonderful, chaotic feeling to have every nerve ending firing at the same time.

His cock hits the wall of my pussy as I lift and drop onto him in deliberate strokes. As if he knows what I need, he splays a hand just below my belly button and when his thumb presses on my clit, I bite down on my lip.

“Branch,” I warn through gritted teeth. “I need to stop or I’m going to come all over your cock.”

I open my eyes to see a wickedness in his that does nothing but propel me towards an orgasm. He looks at me like he could devour me, his bright blue eyes gleaming with lust.

“Just hearing you say that has me dripping inside you.” He holds the bottom of my ass and raises me up and down, urging me to take quicker strokes. “Are you ready to come, baby?”

Each movement hits the target, the need to climax so strong I can’t even hold my eyes open.

I feel his gaze on me, watching my breasts bounce in his face, watching my mouth slack open as I draw closer and closer to the end.

Any sense of self-awareness has long left the building as the sound of our bodies, slick with desire, rings through the living room.

“Branch!” I call out, letting him press deeper, farther into my body. “Oh God.”

My jaw aches as I bite down, the eruption starting at the base of my stomach and flowing out until every bit of my body is engulfed in the bliss of climax.

A flurry of colors sparkles through my vision, and I’m only faintly aware that he’s calling my name.

I only barely hear the groan of his warning, the feel of his hands biting into my skin, the thrust of his hips, or the heat of his body expelling into mine.

Any ability I had to keep moving is long gone, and I sit on top of him as he rides out his own orgasm.

We sit, both panting, our bodies glistening with sweat. At the same moment, we open our eyes. It takes a second for us to smile, for him to reach up and wipe the hair stuck to the side of my face away.

“I know you’re not supposed to say a woman is wrong,” he teases, “but I think I did just prove you wrong.”

“How do you figure?”

“This proves, despite whatever else, we can still have fun together.”

I smack him on the chest and climb off, making a beeline for the bathroom. “I’ve never said we couldn’t have fun. I just said we need to be careful.”

“That wasn’t fun for you?” he shouts after me, a laugh in his voice.

“No. It was awful,” I yell back. Before I can reach the bathroom, I hear his steps coming behind me and squeal as he picks me up and cradles me in his arms.

Looking up at his face, I see something besides the lust. Besides the need. Besides the physical attraction we have to one another. I see something else entirely and it’s that look, that feeling, that worries me.

“If that wasn’t fun, it’s only fair you give me another try,” he says, carrying me down the hallway.

“What do you propose? Blackjack? Rummy? Maybe chess?” I tease.

He kicks open my bedroom door and lays me on the bed. Standing over me, he grins. “Something more like Twister, but you can call it what you want.”

My knees fall to the side as he climbs on top of me. He surprises me by lying next to me.

“I’ve always liked Twister,” I say.

“Seems fitting,” he says, bringing his lips closer. “You know how to twist a man up.”

Before I can ask for an explanation, he kisses me again and I lose myself to him.