Page 34 of The Game Plan (Game On #3)

Fiona

Sweat-slick and limp with exhaustion, I lie draped over Ethan’s naked body. I love that he’s so big not an inch of me hangs

over the edges of him. Even so, his arm wraps loosely around my waist, holding me secure as if he’s afraid I’ll fall. His

fingers trace random patterns on my back.

“How do you want to handle this?” I ask him.

His body tenses, so I know he understands my question. “Nothing to handle. I’ll just make no comment, and it will go away.”

I lift my head so I can rest my chin on his chest. “I hate to say this, but I’m not sure it will go away all that quickly.

Maybe... Well, why don’t you just tell them you’re with me?”

“No.” He practically shouts the word, his lips flattening.

My heart caves in as if it’s been stomped. “You don’t want to tell people about us?”

Instantly, he cups my cheek, his eyes going wide. “Shit, Fi, I did not mean I was ashamed or wanted to hide it. I mean there is no way in hell I’m bringing you into a media shitshow.”

“That really should be my decision. Especially if it helps you. And I want to help you, Ethan.”

With a sigh, he flops his head back on the pillows and stares up at the ceiling, his hand still stroking my cheek.

“Thank you for that, Cherry. But I can’t...” He takes a ragged breath. “Don’t ask me to agree to that. I couldn’t take

seeing them tear you apart.” He glances down at me, his eyes now golden-green in the lamplight. “Please.”

“All right,” I say with reluctance. “For now. But I swear, if a bunch of crazy women start stalking you, I’m stepping in.”

A slow smile curls over his firm lips. “Kind of love you being all possessive, Fi.”

I harrumph, but give his chest a little kiss. “I am sorry, though. That this is happening, I mean.”

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “Me too.”

We grow quiet, lost in our own thoughts, Dex stroking my hair and me drifting in a strange half-sleep state.

“Six Underground” by the Sneaker Pimps plays softly from a set of bedside speakers.

“I never asked how you came to like trip-hop music,” I murmur, too content to talk louder.

“Are you asking me now?” There’s a smile in his voice.

“Smartass.” I give his ribs a little nudge, loving the way he squirms as if it tickles. “And yes. I told you when we first

kissed that I didn’t expect you to like this music. It’s still a surprise.”

He takes a breath, and I lift along with his chest. “Okay, but don’t laugh.”

“That’s basically assuring I’ll laugh.”

“Fine. Laugh it up,” he says. “It was a car commercial. I kept hearing this song and...” He cranes his head to glare down

at me, though there’s a smile on his lips. “You’re laughing already?”

I smother my laugh. “It was the same for me, is all.”

His lips twitch, those hazel eyes of his gleaming more gold than blue now. “Which song?”

“It was two songs. Morcheeba’s ‘Crimson’ and Massive Attack’s ‘Paradise Circus.’ You?”

“Zero Seven’s ‘In the Waiting Line.’?”

“I love that song. They used it in Sex and the City too.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” With a grunt, he turns, and suddenly I’m on the bed and he’s over me, his warm body gently pressed

to mine. His lips find my neck and suckle. “God, I love the way you smell.”

My fingers comb back his loose hair. “And how do I smell?”

“Like happy dreams and well-fucked woman.”

A shout of laughter leaves me, and I tug him closer as he works his way along my collarbone, his hand sliding up to my breast.

The thick slab of his erection presses against my thigh, tempting me, but I let the anticipation build for now.

“I love the way you smell too.”

He pauses, his lips brushing my shoulder, his beard tickling my breast. “How do I smell?”

“Like...” I smile up at the ceiling as I consider. “Pancakes at midnight.”

“Oh?” His voice is muffled as he resumes exploring my neck and teasing my nipple with the blunt tip of his thumb.

I squirm, trying to open my legs wider to let him settle between them. He does with a low groan, but doesn’t enter me. He’s

waiting for my answer.

My voice is breathless, distracted as I am by his roaming lips. “You know—” I kiss his temple, the crest of his cheek “—when

you’ve had a night of sweaty, hot fucking...” I give the line of his jaw a little nuzzle. “Going at it until you can barely

move. And you’ve worked up an appetite that only a stack of pancakes and more hot sex will satisfy?”

Ethan lifts his head then, his eyes slumberous, but his expression careful. “You had a lot of those nights?”

It hits me what I’ve said, and my fingers tighten his hair as I tell him the absolute truth. “Only with you, Ethan. That’s why it’s your scent.”

God, his smile, it unfurls like a spring leaf to the rain, spreading wide and open. “Good answer.”

Unfortunately, my stomach also has an answer, and that’s to make a god-awful growl as if talk of food has released the hunger

hounds.

Ethan grins wide, and a laugh rolls out of him. “What was that? I didn’t quite catch that last bit there.”

“Shut up.” I slap his shoulder while blushing hot over my entire body. “We’ve been at it for hours.”

“And hours,” he confirms with a solemn nod, though the smug satisfaction in his expression grows.

Before I can say a word, he leaps up, hauling me with him. I squeal as he lifts me with one arm. “Ethan, what the hell?”

He strides out of the bedroom. So much for being depleted. His stamina awes me.

“Where do you think? To go make you some pancakes. I need to keep up my girl’s strength.”

Dex

Despite my good intentions, my plan to feed Fi pancakes goes south as soon as she tells me we need flour to make them.

“Shit.” I stop in the middle of the kitchen. Fi’s clinging to me like a little barnacle, her legs wrapped around my waist,

her pussy pushed against my abs—which threatens to break my will and turn me back to the bedroom.

She smiles with sleepy but lust-filled eyes. “You’ve never made pancakes, have you?”

“I’m not much of a cook. Hang on.” I walk us over to the fridge. Holding her tight with one arm, I open the door and bend

to rummage through it.

Fi makes another of her adorable squeals as we tilt down. But I’ve got her. She isn’t going to fall on my watch. She weighs next to nothing.

Vague fantasies of doing drills while carrying Fi on my back drift through my head as I grab a box of takeout and set her

on the counter, earning another squeak.

“Shit, that’s cold,” she says with a laugh. But she leans back on one arm and gives me a cheeky grin, her golden hair sticking

out wildly around her face.

Damn, but she’s gorgeous. So fucking perfect for me, she takes my breath. Sweet, perky tits with puffy nipples that always

seem to be begging for a suck. Tiny waist and wide hips. A butt that’s more than a handful. A true Tinker Bell body.

Though I’d never call her Tink the way Ivy and Gray do. She might be diminutive, but to me, she’s also larger than life.

Grasping her knees, I spread her thighs wide. Ah, and there’s that pretty pink pussy, all glistening for me. My favorite spot

in the entire world. I step between her legs and rub her gloriously curvy hips. “I’ll warm you up.”

“I’m sure you will,” she murmurs, her gaze roaming over my chest in a possessive way that fills me with pride and gratitude.

“First, though, I promised to feed you.” I grab the takeout box and pull out a Chinese dumpling.

Fi’s brows lift. “Cold dumplings?”

“Best late-night snack ever.” I hold the dumpling near her lips. “Trust me.”

Her expression is dubious, but she takes a bite and makes a little moan of contentment.

“Good, yeah?”

She swallows down her bite and opens her mouth for more.

Carefully, I feed her dumplings until she tells me she’s done. Then I hand her some water. “All good?” I ask, kissing the

sensitive little corner of her mouth.

“Yes.”

Good. Licking my fingers to get the dumpling grease off, I step closer. “Sorry I couldn’t give you pancakes at midnight.”

I run my hands up her soft thighs. One tug and she’s at the edge of the counter. Fi’s eyes narrow, her plump lips curling

in a sly smile.

I smile back, not saying a word but letting her know she’s mine all the same. The tip of my cock brushes her entrance. She’s

slick and warm and holds all my attention.

A light shiver runs over her body. “Dumplings are a pretty good alternative.”

“Mmm.” I nudge her just slightly, taking hold of her hips to keep her steady.

“Dumplings and deep-dicking.”

She laughs at that. “Deep-dick—Oh!”

I thrust without warning.

“Oh!” Fi gasps again, her back arching, as I push my way deeper inside. Her tits lift like an offering. Well, then... I

swoop forward and capture one rosy tip with my mouth.

“Oh, shit,” she whispers, her brows furrowed tight and her mouth open on a hot pant. “Oh, shit, Ethan.”

I don’t stop but pull her farther onto my dick, loving how she whimpers and wiggles as she struggles to accommodate me but

clearly wants every inch I can give her.

It’s a snug fit, the warm, wet clasp of her squeezing me so hard I feel it in my balls and down my thighs.

When I bottom out, I pause because it’s just too good. But Fi is grasping my hair, shoving her tit in my mouth like she’ll

die if I don’t suck harder, and writhing as if she needs more.

And I can’t hold back. We both groan as I work her in an easy, undulating rhythm that has no pause, because it’s heaven fucking

Fi. Pure, perfect heaven. Every thrust I take grows a little harder, goes a little deeper, my piercing sliding over that spot

within her that has her gasping a reedy “Ah!” each time.

I mouth her nipple, my tongue sliding over it. Heat licks up my thighs and down my spine. I groan, slamming into her, again and again. And she loves it, her hands gripping my shoulders, her legs wrapping tight around my waist as she slumps against the marble countertop.

“Ethan. Ethan.” It’s a weak, needy cry.

I bend over her, practically crawling onto the counter with her, pumping with blind lust now. She’s utterly beautiful spread

out before me, her expression slack with pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” she says.

I won’t. I can’t.

This. This is what I want, what I need, this connection with Fiona in whatever variation I can get for as long as I can.

She comes on a sob, and it breaks me. How am I going to let her go again? My orgasm takes my breath, my voice. I empty myself

into her, giving her everything I have, and it won’t be enough to keep her here.

It’s never enough.