Page 27 of The Game Plan (Game On #3)

Fiona

Born of the desperate need to keep our hands off each other, Dex and I stand on opposite sides of the elevator going up to

my apartment. The main deterrent to any shenanigans is the fact that Mrs. Flannery, my sixty-something widowed neighbor, stands

between us.

She stares straight ahead, her crimson-painted lips twitching. It’s as if she knows exactly how much Dex and I are itching

to touch each other, which wouldn’t surprise me since her sex life is far more active than mine has been until now. I’ve caught

her in many an elevator embrace. Honestly, the woman is my sexcapade hero.

Over her head, Dex’s eyes meet mine. The heated look he sends makes my breath quicken. But then he pushes it over the edge;

he makes a total goofball—crossed eyes, pointed tongue—face at me.

It’s gone in a flash, but so very un-Dex-like that I snort down a laugh. My eyes water as I try to contain it.

Mrs. Flannery glances at me. “You coming down with a cold, dear?”

Coughing over a snicker, I clear my throat and stand straight. “I might be.”

Her smile is serene. “I’m sure your young man here will take good care of you.”

Dex waggles his brows behind her back. Ass .

Mrs. Flannery leans toward me, her voice dropping into a pseudowhisper. “It’s always the big, quiet ones, isn’t it?”

Ha. Solemnly, I nod. “Yes, ma’am, it is.”

The elevator reaches her floor. As soon as the doors close behind her, I launch myself at Dex, poking his ribs as he laughs

and tries to get away from my marauding finger.

“She totally knows we’re going to have sex,” I tell him, laughing but trying to be outraged.

His arms circle me, bands of steel that lean me onto his hard chest. “Of course she does.” He kisses my temple. “Considering

that she groped my ass right before we got on the elevator, I’d say she approves of your choice.”

“What? That little sneak.”

He grins wide. “You actually look pissed.”

“Of course I am.” I’m not really, but still. My hand drifts down to his awesome ass.

Seriously, his butt is like warm granite. “Your ass is mine, Ethan Dexter.”

“I promise you can play with it later.”

Because I want later to happen sooner, I all but push him down the hall when the elevator doors open on my floor.

When we reach my apartment door, Dex presses against me from behind, his forearms braced on either side of my head. “Tell

me you live alone.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “I live alone.”

He lets out a gusty breath, and his lips trail along the sensitive skin of my neck, his beard tickling. “Good.” The hard length

of his cock nudges my ass. “Open the door, Cherry.”

My hands fumble with the key, and then I’m stumbling into my apartment—oh, so graceful of me. Laughing a bit, I turn, expecting Dex to grab me, give me the kiss I know we both want.

But he doesn’t.

He stalks me instead, his steps steady, his gaze hot. And it sets my pulse racing as I walk backward, keeping my eyes on him.

A slow, evil smile spreads across his lips. “Keep going.”

The low, drawling command works like a band around my middle, constricting my breath, clenching my belly. I edge away until

my butt hits the dining table. Trapped.

My inner thighs draw up in anticipation. My clit is so swollen I feel it there, this hot button of need that craves his touch.

He stops in front of me, so tall it’s almost overwhelming, and yet comforting because I know he’ll use his size and strength

to protect me. Without saying a word, he sinks to his knees, then sits back on his heels. But his gaze never leaves mine.

His voice turns deep. “Show me where it hurts, Cherry.”

A breath puffs out of me, my nipples going tight. Oh, holy hell. His words make the aching emptiness between my legs clench

with sweet pain. Never looking away from him, I find the flaring edge of my wool skirt and raise it high, bunching it around

my hips.

His attention flicks to my panties, and his entire body seems to sway. With utter care, he grasps the sides and slowly lowers

them. I watch them go, watch his rapt expression as he exposes me. His nostrils flare, as if he’s breathing me in.

It should unnerve me, but the strong flush that rises over his cheeks and the way his chest moves with every panting breath

sends a wave of heat through me. I spread my legs, wanting more of his all-consuming attention.

He swallows hard, his gaze growing fierce. The heat of his hands covers my thighs, his fingers curling around them, pressing

gently as he parts my legs farther.

“Most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he rasps.

I can only stand there, my sweaty palms clutching my skirt, my thighs trembling beneath his grasp. I’m so wet now, the air on my sex feels cool, makes me shiver.

Then he lifts one hand and those big, brutish fingers delicately part my folds. My head goes light. I think I whimper. I can’t

tell because my attention is all on Ethan, on the way he slowly leans forward, his lush lips parted and his brows knitted

in utter concentration.

God, he looks gorgeous, all the bold lines of his face taut and flushed. His lips press against my clit, and a groan tears

from him, his body trembling. My breath leaves in a whoosh, but I don’t get to recover because he’s licking my sex with long,

lingering strokes, his lips sucking and nuzzling.

“Oh, fucking hell, Cherry.” He licks deeper, slower. Intent. But never frantic.

He’s savoring me. That, more than anything, has me so hot I break out in a sweat, struggle to find my breath. The low, almost

helpless moans he makes, the soft gasps when he takes a breath before coming at me again, eating me out like I’m the best

thing he’s ever tasted—it’s almost better than what he’s doing to me.

Almost, because, damn. He might be a novice at this, but he’s making up for lost time. Strong lips, warm tongue, and that beard. Holy fuck, that

beard. Soft, prickly, it adds another level of sensation, so good—so naughty-good—that I circle my hips, chasing the feel

of it brushing my clit, tickling my inner thighs.

It’s too much. I lean against my dining room table, afraid I’ll fall or maybe pass out. I don’t know. I can’t think straight.

And then I see his arm moving. Oh, God. Somewhere along the way, he’s undone his jeans and pulled his cock free. His erection

is enormous, ruddy and angry. He palms his dick, tugging at it with rough, rude jerks.

When he runs his thumb over the glistening crown of his cock, toying with the silver piercing, the sight is so illicit, I come without warning, my knees giving out. A little wail leaves my lips as I sink into the sensation. “Ethan.”

He’s rising, gathering me up.

I wrap my legs around his waist, rub my aching sex against the crinkly hairs at the base of his cock. “Ethan.” My lips find

his. He tastes of sex. My kiss is frantic, little gasps still leaving me. “Now. Ethan. Now.”

Big hands palm my ass. He lifts me high and then thrusts, going in deep. He groans into my mouth. “Oh, fuck yes.”

I can only hold, my arms wrapped around his thick neck, as he pumps hard and fast, bouncing me on his cock. Every time his

hips impact with mine, I feel a shock wave through my body, a flare of pleasure-pain in my clit. Every stroke of that little

metal ball on his cock sends a rush of bliss through me.

“More,” I tell him. “Give me more.”

Give me everything.

And he does, driving into me until I scream his name, my body arching tight against his as I come again—so hard my vision

dims.

He comes with me, his teeth clamping on my shoulder as he gushes, hot and wet within my body. The aftermath leaves us both

shaking and panting. I rest my head on his big shoulder, shivering so hard my stomach aches.

He walks us to the bedroom with lumbering steps, weaving a bit as if he’s drunk.

Oddly, I feel like crying. My throat hurts and my eyes prickle. The feeling only intensifies when he lays me down in my bed,

his softening cock still deep within me, his hard arms holding me close against him. I don’t know which way is up or down

anymore. The only thing that feels real and true is Ethan—the man I can only have in stolen moments of time.