Page 17 of The Game Plan (Game On #3)

Dex

Despite wanting to leave the club as fast as humanly possible and find a bed where I can take my time with Fi, we drive home

with Gray and Ivy, sitting in the back seat of Ivy’s cavernous SUV.

Gray is a bundle of effusive energy. “Dude, you were like a rock star up there,” he shouts over his shoulder as he drives,

making Ivy wince.

“Inside voice, Cupcake.”

He ignores Ivy’s request and keeps on. “You never told me you could sing like that! Jesus, I don’t know what to think about

anymore. My honey knows she’s the worst dancer in the world, and Dex is like a fucking rock god.”

That earns him a slap on the head from Ivy and an eye roll from me. “I’m not that good.”

I’m all too aware of Fi at my side. She’s warm and soft and leaning against my shoulder in total trust.

I’m going to fuck her. The thought is a stark declaration splashed across my mind. It’s all I can do not to burst out of my skin. My heart is beating a frantic, anxious pace, and my dick is throbbing against my leg with impatient need. He wants out and in. I take a breath, ignore his demands.

“I’m just a mimic.”

“A mimic?” Fi asks. Her face flashes in and out of view as we speed past light posts.

“Yeah. I can sing all right, but I basically pretended to be Dan Auerbach up there, used his style and intonations.” I shrug.

It was no big deal. So I sounded a bit like the lead singer of The Black Keys. It was fun. “It’s easy being someone else up

there.”

Fi looks me over, her gaze penetrating. “And yet you loved it, didn’t you?”

I find myself grinning, remembering the powerful surge of energy and joy that had gone through me, knowing I was entertaining

her. “Yeah,” I say quietly, “I did.”

And because I suddenly feel exposed, the car too quiet, I call up to Ivy, “Hey, what happened to the Fiat?”

Ivy and Gray met when Gray borrowed her tiny pink Fiat. The guys had gotten a lot of laughs and given him endless shit when he squeezed his ass into that car.

Ivy’s nose wrinkles with a grin. “Still have her. I don’t think I’ll ever let her go.”

“You’d better not,” Gray says. “That’s our car of love.”

Beside me, Fi makes a gagging face, sticking her finger in her mouth as if she wants to vomit. I chuckle and settle down closer

to her, taking her slim hand in mine.

“Anyway,” Ivy drawls, her smile still in place. “When Leo was born, I thought it better to have a family car.”

“And I told her it would be over my left nut that we’d get a minivan.” Gray makes a face.

Ivy pats his knee. “And because I like his nuts—”

“ Aaand we’re done,” Fi cuts in.

Thank God. The word nuts calls attention to my own. They’re aching now.

The car’s gone quiet again. Gray turns up the stereo and drives.

Which leaves me cocooned in darkness next to Fi.

The lazy tones of Flunk drift over us, and my awareness becomes the soft breaths she takes.

Her scent grows stronger—girly shampoo and a faint musk I realize, with a kick to the gut, is arousal.

I’m going to fuck her. I probably should phrase it nicer—make love to her or worship her body with my dick. Something like

that. But I’m fairly certain my first time will be straight-up hard and frantic fucking. I just pray I can last more than

a minute. That I can satisfy her.

Fear that I won’t makes my chest clench. I want to please Fi. More than please her. I want her to forget every guy who came

before me. But aside from watching porn and reading up on certain techniques, I have all but zero applied experience, which

vastly lowers my chances of giving her maximum satisfaction.

Why did I wait all this time? I know full well how important it is to practice. I should have just stopped overthinking and

done it in college. Fucked my way past ignorance and accumulated some skills to do her right.

Fi’s thumb glides over my palm, barely a touch, but every nerve in my body seems to be tracking it. That tiny caress feels

better than anything I’ve known. I turn into that touch, burrow my nose in her hair. No one on Earth smells like Fi. No one

else makes that particular sound when she breathes.

Suddenly, I’m glad I haven’t been with anyone else. I don’t want to touch anyone but her.

The tips of her fingers wander up my inner arm. Up and down. I feel the stroke like a phantom touch along the shaft of my

cock. The weight of her stare has me realizing I’ve had my eyes squeezed shut, my teeth clenched so I don’t grab her here

and now, haul her onto my hard dick.

Releasing a breath, I meet her gaze. In the darkness of the car, her wide eyes gleam.

My breaths slow until I’m aware of every inhale, the way it stretches the muscles along my chest, how every measured exhale tightens my lower abs.

And still, she strokes me, her touch featherlight over my biceps, lingering at the knobby bone of my wrist.

Jesus.

She gives my index finger a little tug and it’s like she’s grabbed my dick. I grunt, swallow a louder moan.

And Fi watches it all, her expression rapt. I’m so under her spell that when she speaks, a low murmur meant for my ears only,

I nearly jump out of my skin.

“I can’t stop touching you,” she says.

“You hear me complaining?”

Her pretty lips curl. But the smile dies just as quickly, and she releases a soft breath. “This is the longest car ride ever.”

I can’t help it. I have to touch her. My hand slides up her thigh. I know beneath her jeans she’s smoother than silk, soft

and lush. She trembles under my touch, and when I cup her heat, those plump thighs clench over my hand. I give her a squeeze.

She’s damp, even through the thickness of her jeans. Fuck me.

“You aching here, Cherry?” I whisper, watching her eyes glaze over, her lids fluttering down.

Little white teeth bite down on her plush bottom lip as she gives the barest nod. My chest hitches. I push just a little harder

and am rewarded with the sight of her lips parting, her brow knitting as if she’s fighting a whimper.

She grips my wrist, and I think she might push me away, but she holds me fast.

Slowly, I grind my fingers in a circle.

“Here is the only place I want to be,” I tell her, my voice a ghost in the dark.

She slumps against me, her open lips on my shoulder, her breath, humid and panting. Beneath her soft sweater, her nipples peak, hard buds that I want to test with my teeth, suck in my mouth.

I’m drifting downward, intent on doing just that, when the car halts, snapping the spell. Gray throws the interior into harsh

light when he opens his door. Fi catches my eye. Her cheeks flush pink.

We’re here. And it’s going to happen.

Fiona

I swear my heart is trying to pound its way out of my chest as I take Dex by the hand and silently head up the stairs, aware

of my sister and Gray watching but not caring. Dex follows me, his grip secure, his steps steady.

Truth is, I might be the one walking up those stairs first, but he’s the one leading me with that intense gaze of his, all

hot and wanting. It prompts me to put one foot in front of the other. To rise higher and higher.

I tremble climbing the stairs. This is going to be Dex’s first time. And he’s giving that honor to me.

What surprises me is how much that matters. How much he matters.

When I’m with Dex, I’m not worrying if I’m good enough. Instead, I’m aware of my body, the way it feels, moves and reacts

to his. He puts me in a state of euphoria mixed with tight anticipation. He’s addicting, and I want all of him.

By the time we enter his room and close the door behind us, my knees are weak.

I turn to face him, maybe to reassure him—I’m not even sure of what—and he’s on me. His mouth is hot and open, assured and

taking what he wants. My pulse leaps. I suck in a breath and kiss him back, jumping up into his arms when he grabs my ass

and lifts me high.

The room spins, and then I’m in Dex’s bed, straddling his thick thighs as he leans against the headboard. As if being in the bed somehow grounds him, he slows us down, caressing my shoulders, murmuring a sound of contentment.

“I love the way you kiss me,” I say against Dex’s lips. We exchange air, a gusty sigh, and he angles his head, flicks his

tongue along my upper lip.

“I love the way you taste,” he murmurs before taking a slow, languid taste of me again.

I shudder, feeling it down my spine, up my legs. “You don’t kiss like a virgin, Ethan.”

He kisses me again, a little deeper, nipping my lower lip. With a grunt, he grips my ass and tugs me closer.

“And you sure don’t act like one,” I whisper breathlessly.

“Guess I forgot to read the virgin handbook.” His voice is husky against my skin. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about what

I’d do with you once I got my chance. Vivid, detailed plans, Cherry.”

His hand cups the back of my head, completely engulfing it, and he kisses his way down my neck. I shiver in response, wrapping

my arms around him, pulling myself a little closer—because there’s no way I’m moving him. He’s too big.

Had I snubbed big guys before? A mistake. There’s so much to explore. My hands coast over his shoulders, the muscles there

like honed granite.

“Take this off.” I pluck at his sleeve. I want to see him, feel his hot skin.

Dex sucks a sensitive spot at the base of my throat before pulling back. He reaches behind him, grabs hold of his shirt, and

tugs it over his head in one swift motion. His hair flows wild around his face as he sits back and looks at me with eyes like

smoky quartz in the lamplight.

“Sweet hot peppers,” I say on a gasp.

He grins, even teeth flashing white in the frame of his dark beard. “Never heard that one before.”

I can’t even answer. I’m too busy just looking . Because Ethan Dexter without a shirt on is breathtaking. I knew he was built—kind of hard to hide that. But seeing him in

the flesh is so much more.

There is nothing lean or sinewy about him. He’s simply solid, defined bulk. A body designed to take a hard impact and not