Page 22 of Trick Play (Playing the Field #4)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

Zeke

Now

We’re all enjoying breakfast on Tahegin and Hendrix’s balcony—my back to the ocean but the sound of crashing waves and the smell of salt flooding my senses—when Rix finally breaks. He’s lounging on the deck chair with Tahegin between his legs, Gin’s back to Rix’s chest as he whips out a fresh page of activities for our day. At the sight of the jam-packed schedule, Hendrix’s sleepy-lidded eyes widen with disbelief before he deftly plucks the paper from my best friend’s fingers. The riiip of the parchment is louder than the waves hitting the boat as Rix tears it in half. Then again. And again. And again. Over and over until he’s holding a palmful of homemade confetti, which he then allows the wind to whisk away.

In his lap, Tahegin gapes.

I stifle my chuckle into Micah’s hair, thankful he didn’t mind mirroring our friends’ positions but in the opposite direction, without the view across the water. With the early morning wind whipping past us, Micah had shivered only a few minutes after sitting down, so my Rubies sweatshirt now covers his arms and chest. The hoodie dwarfs him and hangs over his fingertips, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He keeps trying to subtly sniff the fabric, bringing a secretive smile to my lips. Though I hadn’t planned to remove my long-sleeve, and my nipples could now cut holes in my shirt from the chill, like hell am I going to let my discomfort show. My primitive brain gets some kind of satisfaction from providing for my lover, and that part also wants to appear macho and invincible. Even if my teeth are nearly chattering.

Drawing Micah close with my arms around his waist, I revel in his warmth and do my best to ignore the way his ass brushes against my crotch. He shoots me a look over his shoulder that says he knows exactly where my mind is.

“Rix!” Tahegin complains before huffing and whipping out another piece of paper.

A backup. Of course.

Once more, Hendrix, entirely remorseless, takes the paper and destroys it.

“Hendrix!” Gin hisses, glaring over his shoulder at his boyfriend.

“No,” Rix rumbles in his naturally gravelly voice. Whereas Gin is fully dressed for a day outside the cabin, Hendrix appears to still be wearing his pajamas. It’s an opposition not unlike Rix’s sleepy, grumpy demeanor compared to Tahegin’s bright-eyed and cheery one.

“What do you mean?—”

“No,” he repeats, meeting Gin’s gaze with a firm look. “We have been running from one activity to another this entire cruise, barely ever in our room, and practically attached to Micah and Aleks. This is our last day, and I don’t plan on letting you leave our bedroom.”

Tahegin blinks, for once speechless with his mouth slack, probably blushing under his bronze cheeks. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Rix hums as he pulls Gin tighter against his lap, much like I just did with Micah, except his hand slips between Gin’s closed thighs, not quite at his groin, and squeezes. “ Oh .”

“Okay, I agree with this plan,” my best friend rushes out while I stifle laughter at the absolute hold Rix has on him. He stares over his shoulder at Hendrix like he’s two seconds away from devouring his face.

“Aaaand that’s our cue to leave,” Micah announces, jumping to his feet and grabbing my hand. As he practically drags me from their room, I send our friends several suggestive winks and vulgar gestures until the door slams shut behind us. A playful slap lands on my shoulder. “I can’t with you.”

I give his tennis skirt and oversized sweatshirt an appreciative look, licking my lips. “Mm, but I can with you.”

He laughs. “That was a bad line.”

“You liked it, though.”

“Maybe.”

“Back to the room?” I all but beg, already angling toward our neighboring door.

“Actually, I was thinking about getting some ice cream.”

I’m not even disappointed by the suggestion because, despite our midnight trip to the soft-serve machine and the morning chill, ice cream sounds so good. I’ve cheated on my diet so much this entire trip, but it’s been so worth it. “Let’s go.”

Like always, spending time in comfortable silence with Micah is no hardship. We walk, sometimes hand in hand, sharing secret smiles or pointing things out—like the cheesy artwork hanging in the hall or the massive chandelier as we pass a lounge area. When we come across a gift shop, the same sparkle I’ve been seeing all week catches my eye once again, and I decide, spontaneously, to do the impulsive thing I’ve wanted to do since I first laid eyes on that twinkle.

Letting go of Micah’s hand, I slow and turn to face him. “Grab me a cone with chocolate, please?”

“Sure. Everything okay?”

I jerk my thumb toward the shop. “Just saw something. Meet me out here in a few minutes?”

He agrees and wanders off, and I dart inside the shop. My legs take me right to the locked display case, my eyes glued to the shiny thing.

It’s perfect.

“Can I help you with something, sir?” the clerk asks as they approach me.

“That,” I point, finger probably smudging the crystal clear glass.

The clerk smiles knowingly. “Beautiful choice for a lucky partner.”

I leave the store with a lighter wallet and a smile on my face.

Outside, Micah licks at a strawberry cone while my chocolate one slowly melts in his other hand. His tongue circles half the rim, and then his lips cover the top, sucking up the softening cream. Our eyes meet, his smirk telling me he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Here,” he holds the chocolate one out toward me as a small drop lands on his finger.

I hum appreciatively, lowering my voice slightly when I purr, “Thanks, bunny.” Taking the cone, I catch his wrist and lick the spilled chocolate from his skin. “Mmm, delicious.”

He clears his throat, cheeks darkening. “So, what did you get?”

“Come on.” I lead him outside where the sun can warm us while the breeze keeps it from getting too hot. Leaning my back against the railing, I intentionally don’t look at the deadly drop behind me. I reach my free hand into my pocket and retrieve the light pink box I just bought. “This is for you.”

“What?” He looks surprised.

“Open it.”

I hold his cone as he hesitantly pries open the jewelry box, and I know I’ve done well when his eyes light up. “Oh, Zeke, it’s . . . Wow. Put it on me?”

We exchange our items, and then he turns around so I can clasp the necklace at his nape. He faces me again, passing my cone to me to free up his fingers. They lovingly caress the metal and diamonds nestled in the hollow of his throat.

“This is too much, Zeke, but I refuse to give it back. It’s mine now.”

“Good.” I chuckle. “It’s perfect for you.”

The sun glints off the sparkly necklace, and it looks even better in the natural light than in the fluorescents of the shop. The delicate gold chain holds a thin pendant in the outline of a bunny face and ears, one a bit crooked, the whole thing studded with diamonds. It’s almost the same as the playboy bunny, though changed just enough that it seems innocent. Just like Micah.

We stand on the deck and finish our ice cream cones. My attention is split almost equally between the seductive way he mouths his cone and the glint of the sparkly jewels on his throat. My bunny. Wearing a necklace I bought him. Dazzling. And then his lips—God, those wicked lips. Bright red from the constant sucking and licking.

My cock twitches and thickens as his cheeks hollow around that damn cone.

“Oh, fuck,” I moan under my breath. “You’re killing me here.”

Those wicked lips curve up into a smile as he releases the cone with an audible pop. “Whatever do you mean?” he asks, coy, then licks the lingering pink ice cream staining his lips. His gaze jumps down to my crotch, where I’m sure the outline of my hard-on is visible.

“That’s it.” Tossing my cone over my shoulder toward a watery death, I snatch his and give it the same ending.

Micah gasps. “Zeke, the ocean?—”

But I’m already on him. My hands find his waist and squeeze at the same time my lips find his. He tastes like sunshine and wind and strawberries, and I devour as much of him as I can. Our hips meet, rubbing together until we seriously risk catching an indecency charge. “I’ll post an ocean cleanup fundraiser,” I promise against his lips as he pants for air, “but only if you come back to the room with me. Right now.”

“Shut up and walk,” he demands, breathless.

I instantly obey.

It’s a hurried race to the room, garnering shocked and knowing looks from other couples along the way. I don’t even remember unlocking the door, but somehow, we make it inside just in time. Any longer watching his ass in that short skirt, and I would have gone insane.

As it is, I pounce on him once the door slams closed behind us. I grab his hips, spin us, and push his back against the wood with enough force he lets out a puff of air right into my mouth. Then, he kisses me harder.

My fingers find his skirt and grip the fabric tight, yanking it up to expose smooth, soft ass cheeks I can’t help but grope. He responds by digging his nails into my chest through my T-shirt and rolling his hips against mine.

“I wanna fuck you in this skirt,” I groan, rutting harder against him. “Just the skirt and nothing else.” Tipping my head down, I find his neck, nipping and sucking until he’s arching into me and exposing more of his skin to my mouth.

“What about the necklace?” he teases.

I growl in mock frustration. “The skirt and the necklace. That’s it.”

“Take off my shirt, then.”

Fisting the hem of the sweatshirt he borrowed from me, as well as his crop top underneath, I pull the material up at the same time he drops gracefully to his knees. I look down, groaning at the sight of Micah on his knees, thighs spread beneath the skirt, and wide eyes looking up at me through long dark lashes. He leans forward and nuzzles me through my joggers until I gasp. Threading my fingers through his hair, I reluctantly tug him back. “You don’t have to.” But I really, really want you to .

He leans forward to gently kiss the tip of my dick through my pants. “Just because you don’t enjoy giving head doesn’t mean I don’t.”

“But—”

“I’m doing this for me, Zeke. Feeling your cock in my mouth, tasting you, turns me on.”

“I feel like I should?—”

“Shh.” He nuzzles me again, like he’s calming me through my dick. “You don’t have to reciprocate. You give me more than enough attention everywhere else.”

I’ve always felt bad for not blowing a guy who didn’t mind going down on me—so much so that I usually told a partner not to even bother—but Micah has never once held any contempt about it, even before I explained why.

My gag reflex is no joke.

Brushing my tongue? Gargling mouthwash? Flossing my molars? It’s torture I’m subjected to twice a day. I gag each and every time. I’ve tried all the tricks—tucking my thumb in my fist or forcing myself to endure it—and nothing has worked.

After the second time I literally threw up on some poor guy’s dick, I stopped trying.

Micah has always been understanding, especially once he witnessed a teeth-brushing fiasco.

God, it’s so bad that I’m almost gagging just thinking about it.

But then Micah’s mouth on my skin pulls me out of my daymare. He tugs my pants and boxers to my thighs, his hands rucking up my T-shirt to feel my abs as he places open-mouth kisses up and down my shaft, licking and sucking as he goes. The brief touches leave me wanting more, and my thighs twitch with the need to thrust.

He enjoys giving head, that much has become clear during our time together. Whether it’s teasing kisses and licks, engulfing my shaft, or sucking my balls, he’s moaning like he is the one being pleasured. Taking me deep, Micah flattens his tongue on the length of my cock, then flexes in some type of way that curls the edges and suctions it to me. When he pulls back, that wicked muscle drags with a resistance that drives me insane.

“Fuck, bunny, fuck ,” I gasp as everything begins to fade to bliss. “S-stop. You gotta— I can’t?—”

Micah smiles as he slowly releases me, his face flushed, lips dark and swollen, and I think he has to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Indigo hair a mess from my fingers, wide hazel eyes rimmed dark, cheekbones and jaw somehow sharp yet delicate. That body—all tan skin, lean muscle, and cock bulging beneath his skirt.

That fucking skirt.

All teasing fades from my mind, and I’m left only with primal instincts. Want. Need. Take. “Stand up,” I rasp, “and get your ass on the bed. Or I’ll take you against this door.”

His eyes light up with interest as he gets to his feet. “If I were already prepped, I’d have zero objections. We will definitely be revisiting that one day. For now, I’ll race you there!” He’s off before he even finishes speaking, making a mad dash for the bedroom.

I’m left struggling to get my pants up high enough to chase him, and once I make it into the room, he’s already waiting for me, standing with his hands touching himself seductively. The picture of his bare torso and skirt are like a snapshot right out of my fantasies.

Seeing my poorly saddled erection, Micah stifles a chuckle.

“Oh, shut up,” I tease and push him onto the bed, then flip him to his stomach before he can get his bearings. My hands eagerly hike up his skirt, only to be met by attached panties too tight to wiggle my fingers inside. “I’ll buy you a new one,” I grunt nearly incoherently through the lust taking control of my body.

“What—”

Riiip . The panties shred in my hands.

“My skirt,” he protests weakly.

“I’ll buy you more. However many you want.” And then I dive for his exposed hole, tongue fucking him open for my fingers. Fingering him open for my cock. We’ve been at it so much recently he’s ready in no time.

The trip around the bed to the nightstand for lube is a necessary torture.

I shred my clothes before climbing onto the mattress, naked, legs parted, cock hard as I stroke it with lube. “Come ride me, bunny. Let me watch that skirt bounce on my cock.”

Micah crawls up the bed toward me. Limbs slow and sensual. Hips swaying. Skirt swishing. The white material stands out against his tan skin that I know continues flawlessly on his thighs and ass. He has the barest of tan lines on his hips, just a thin line from what has to be a thong, and then a small triangle at his bare groin. He’s always so smooth and hairless everywhere, soft like silk. Laser hair removal, he told me once when I asked.

That sexy crawl continues all the way up my body, and just as he straddles my waist and leans in so close that I can smell the strawberry scent of his perfume and I think I’ll get his mouth on mine and my cock deep inside him, he swerves over my lips with a ghost of a touch before spinning around. I watch, surprised and eager, as he lowers himself into the reverse bunny—what I like to call our version of the reverse cowgirl. My eyes take in everything —theindigo hair he’s tied into a low messy bun at some point, his bare shoulders lightly dusted with something sparkly that has my attention glued to his skin, his muscular back and the deep divot down the center, the dimples above his waistband, and that skirt .

“Ahh, fuck yeah,” I moan breathily, the noise low and needy. Fisting his skirt on one side, I hike the hem to his hip and hold on tight. My other hand dips under the remaining fabric to palm his ass cheek and spread him open as he sinks down on my cock.

We let out matching sounds of pleasure when he drops all the way to my base in one quick move. It’s the final straw for me. I’ve had him countless times during this cruise, but I’m still just as senselessly feral for him as the first time we slept together. We’ve fucked slowly before, of course. Mostly during the time we dated and spent the majority of our free time together. Now, though, it’s like any time could be our last, and I have to make sure he remembers me, feels me, for as long as possible after.

Using my grip on his hip and ass, I yank him onto my cock so hard my pelvis might bruise, but I thrust up until him like I’ll die if I don’t. That skirt bounces and flutters just like I knew it would, giving me teasing glimpses of his hole taking me so perfect. So hot. So tight. So, so, so much. Over and over again. Every sharp impact knocking an irrepressible little moan from his mouth and sending his hair slowly tumbling from its bun.

Light bounces off the body shimmer on his shoulders, drawing my attention to the smooth expanse of skin just as he grinds down, rolls his hips, and clenches around my cock. Hidden from my view, his hand shuttles over his cock until he explodes, and his loud, low keen sends me over the edge. Holding his petite body aloft, I slam my hips up and into him—one, twice, three times, four—and come inside his tight heat. My entire body tenses as that blissful rush passes through every limb and out my dick, only going loose with satisfaction as the last few twitches of my dick have me emptying completely within him.