Page 46 of Game Point (Game, Set, and Match #2)

Dylan

Bed Chem – Sabrina Carpenter

‘Will you move over?’ I complained, turning around again.

‘I can’t! I’m on the edge.’

‘I doubt that very much.’ I pushed up, looking over at his half of the bed. ‘Look there’s still all this room over here.’ I pointed to the sliver of space.

He sighed heavily. ‘That is not empty, it’s where my arm goes.’

‘Could you not lie on your side? You’ll take up less room.’

‘But I sleep on my back.’

‘You usually sleep on the couch,’ I retorted.

‘And I’ll go back there if you don’t stop complaining,’ Oliver threatened. ‘You were the one who forced me here.’

‘I didn’t force you,’ I corrected, ‘I simply said that if you didn’t sleep in the bed, I wouldn’t either.’

‘There was a degree of coercion.’ He pressed his hands to his face, wiping the sleep away from his eyes.

‘Well, maybe if I’d realized before how much space you’d take up, I wouldn’t have pushed the idea.’ I poked his arm as it pushed over to me, his elbow nearly hitting me in the face.

‘Are you trying to drive me downstairs?’ His words were muffled by his hands.

‘No …’ I said, unable to keep the playful smile from my face. ‘Is it working?’

He let out a loud, annoyed groan. I began to wonder if I’d maybe pushed him a little too far. ‘Go to sleep, Dylan.’

This time, I decided to heed the warning in his voice and settled on my side, facing out of the bed. I told myself that if I closed my eyes, eventually there was a chance in hell of me forgetting he was lying right next to me.

How had I gotten myself into this position? Oh yeah! I practically forced him to share the room with me.

I took deep breaths, remembering the anxiety techniques, following the instructions to try and visualize the stress floating away.

Five minutes later, I was still awake. I moved my legs, trying to adjust the covers so they covered my feet completely.

In the darkness, I miscalculated, accidentally connecting my leg with the firm rock of Oliver.

‘Ow! Why did you kick me?’ he muttered sleepily.

‘Sorry,’ I whispered into the darkness.

‘Can you stay still for a moment?’

‘I think it’s impossible,’ I said, still struggling to get comfy. There was something about how aware I was of the closeness of his body that left me unable to settle, to stay still. As if my body was caught up in the current of him, his energy pulling me on a wave.

‘You can’t not wriggle for a second?’

‘Apparently not.’ I turned around again to face him, one arm pulling my pillow closer. I could only just make him out in the darkness, his body hidden under the covers. He was so close, I could almost feel his breath.

‘I’m going downstairs,’ he summarized, but my hands grabbed for his.

‘No! I’ll behave.’

He huffed, settling back on the bed. I could feel every movement of his body, the dip in the mattress on his side, pulling me closer. ‘I honestly don’t know if I believe you.’

‘You’re learning.’

‘Do you always get the nighttime zoomies?’ he asked, any hint of tiredness fading from his voice.

‘What can I say?’ I rolled onto my back. ‘I get excited when I win.’

‘Here.’ His hands twisted me again, turning me onto my side as easily as if I was a rag doll.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked, softening to his touch and allowing his arms to wrap around me, one under my neck, the other around my waist, and slowly he pulled me against his body. What was happening?

‘Putting you in hand jail.’ His hands slid up my palm, before interlocking his fingers with mine, restraining me.

I lay rigid, my brain overloaded with the physical contact, trying to balance how much I liked him with how badly I’d been trying to avoid this.

His entire body pushed against me, his hands soft in mine.

It was impossible to deny how good this felt, how much I’d been craving this very thing.

Since the night we’d slept together, since the hospital where he’d climbed onto my bed and held me, since the night, months before, when I met him in New York.

I was fucked. This was very different from trying to pretend he wasn’t in the bed with me. In fact, this was going to make it extremely difficult to sleep, every movement of his body affecting mine. My skin flushed, breathing turning laboured.

‘If you stay still for a few minutes, you’ll calm down and go to sleep.’ His head tucked in behind mine, his breath hot on my neck. I had to fight a laugh, the idea of sleep the last thing on my mind.

Instead, all I could think about was the slide of his naked skin against mine, how well he’d worked his fingers that now held mine, how he’d moaned and cursed as I took him in my mouth. How it had felt to be so incredibly full of him.

Like I said, I was fucked.

I hummed, trying to keep my heart rate under control, aware of every single movement of our bodies, every point of contact. I was so starved for him that even the simple brush of his body against mine turned me on. Now, I had his entire length pushed against me.

‘Am I speaking to Oliver or Coach Anderson at the moment?’

‘As your friend I’m telling you that your coach won’t be impressed if you don’t get a solid night’s sleep.’

‘It’s okay, I’ll blame it on my friend Oliver.’ I couldn’t help my smile. ‘Wait until coach finds out he fed me pizza too.’

‘Dylan,’ he rasped, an edge of sleep returning. I loved the way my name sounded coming from him. Even more when he moaned it.

‘Yes?’ I practically purred. Truly, I didn’t know where all this late-night energy had come from but there was no doubt it was being spurred on by the press of his body against mine.

‘Stop wriggling.’

‘What if I like to wriggle?’ I smirked as I moved my body again, rolling my hips around, and attempting to break free of his grasp on my hands, feeling his knee press up against me.

Maybe if I moved around, he’d remove himself from me.

It was the only way I could think to do it.

I couldn’t tell him to go, I wouldn’t dare. He’d have to be the stronger one.

‘I haven’t exercised in days! I’m getting all the zoomies out.’

‘You’ve got to stop moving.’ This time, he spoke pained words through gritted teeth. I paused, settling against him, my chest heaving.

‘Why?’ I tried to turn around to face him, but he held me in place. ‘Did I hurt you?’

‘No,’ he said immediately, ‘just …’ Oliver let out a heavy sigh, his forehead pressing against my head, his breath still sending shivers down my back. ‘You’ve got to stop moving. It’s …’

My mind filled in a hundred possibilities, sure I was close in my mission to drive him back to his side of the bed. ‘Annoying? Painful? Irritating?’

‘It’s making me hard.’

My eyes grew wide as the realization dawned on me of exactly what I was feeling pressed against me. It was, in fact, not his knee.

My skin flushed further, making it too hot to be under the covers, let alone against another human.

But I could not move, not without feeling him brush hard against my back, sending me longing for every inch of contact I could get.

I was a starved woman, standing in front of a buffet, trying (and failing) to convince herself she was not hungry.

‘Oh … sorry,’ I managed, my mouth dry. His grip on my hands loosened, but I didn’t dare let his hands slip away, tightening my own hold on his fingers.

‘Dylan?’ His voice breathless. And at the sound of my name from his mouth, the rasp of his British accent, and a brush along my rear, his hips slowly easing forward, dragging his length along me, I lost the threads of control I’d been clinging to.

I arched my back, rubbing myself against him, against the length of him, and he let out a heavy moan.

‘Tell me to stop,’ I whispered, my eyes shut as I moved against him again. Relief washed over me as he matched the movement, grinding up to meet my body. ‘If you don’t want this, tell me to stop.’

‘You know I want you,’ he hissed, grinding harder into my back. ‘You can fucking feel how much I want you.’

A wicked smile curled onto my lips, satisfaction at his permission to keep going. Stopping now felt like trying to halt a freight train. A hand left mine, going to my hips, pulling me into a perfect rhythm against his groin, his cock hardening more with every movement.

I bit my tongue, trying not to moan at the contact, to allow him the knowledge of how desperate I was for him too. Our desperate, heated breath, and the creak of the bed under us filled the air.

‘Fuck, Oliver.’ The words escaped me as he slowed his pace, torturing us both.

‘Tell me,’ he whispered, his hand moving up my body from my hip, finding my hair, brushing it behind my ear before his mouth nipped at my sensitive lobe. He ground up against me again. ‘How badly do you want me?’

‘I need you.’ My heart pounded against my ribcage. I didn’t dare let myself wonder what any of this meant, if this would change things between us. Or if we’d wake up tomorrow the same people that had climbed into this bed.

‘I want to watch you,’ Oliver said. ‘I’ve seen inside that box and there’s not one night since when I’ve not woken up in a cold sweat from a dream of you fucking yourself with its contents.’

I swore, turned on by the image of him. Alone, his hand dragging down his cock, hard and thinking of me. Only me.

He allowed me to turn around, catching his heated gaze. ‘You have to touch yourself too,’ I said.

‘Like I could help it, watching you.’ He pushed himself out of the bed, turning towards the shelf, the extra inch of height he had on me giving him better access to the box as he retrieved it.

He put it down, his throat bobbing as he slowly moved up the bed. ‘Which one is your favourite?’ His gaze flickering towards me, his voice filled with anguish.

I pushed up to my knees, a devilish smile on my lips. ‘Which do you want me to use?’

His head shook as he admitted on a breathless laugh. ‘Every single one.’

The heat between my thighs only grew hotter. ‘Better get started then.’

I pulled two items out: a small vibrator and a dildo.