Play With Me (Playing For Keeps Book 2)

JENNIE

“What did I say?”

My back hits the wall with a thud, Garrett’s hazy eyes tracking mine. They’re more blue than green tonight, dark and a little daunting, like an angry sea, turning my breath shallow, setting my body ablaze.

I let my tongue glide slowly across my bottom lip, enjoying the way Garrett’s pulse drums in his neck as he watches. “That you missed me.”

He growls, taking another step toward me. “No.”

“You did,” I argue, pushing him a little bit further. I want to see how far I can take him without making him snap. Or maybe I do want him to snap. Either way it’s going to be fun. “It was rather sweet, Garrett.” I stroke my fingers down the side of his face and kiss his jaw, smiling against the light layer of scruff when his chest rumbles. “You’re just a soft, gooey cinnamon roll.”

Garrett shoves me harder against the wall, takes both my wrists in one hand, and pins them over my head, his other hand at my throat, fingers pressing. I’ve done it. I’ve unlocked him.

“You like pissing me off.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Garrett. I love it.”

He releases my throat and trails one broad fingertip across the waist of my jeans. “I fucking hate these jeans.”

“I might, too, if my name was on the credit card that paid for them. They were expensive after all, and I bought three pairs.”

A throaty, dark chuckle leaves his lips. “Then I have two pairs to destroy.”

“Don’t you dare,” I warn lowly. My ass looks divine in these jeans; the way both Garrett and Jaxon can’t ever take their eyes off it when I wear them around those two tells me so.

With his gaze fixed on mine, Garrett slips his hand below the waist of the tight denim and jerks my hips forward. “Then they need to be on the fucking floor, because that’s the only way I like them.”

My fingertips dance up his biceps, over his broad chest, sinking into his hair as I brush my lips over his. “Then I guess you better get to work, Andersen.”

I leave him in my entryway as I saunter down the hall, stripping my shirt off on the way, casting a lingering glance over my shoulder when I ditch it behind me. The jeans are next, and I hang them off the tip of my pointer finger before dropping them outside my bedroom door. Finally, Garrett kicks his ass into high gear, but not fast enough to catch me before I disappear into the attached bathroom.

I’m not doing a thing in here other than admiring the way my body looks in my matching bra and panty set, satin and lace the color of emeralds. I’ve gained a little weight in the time I’ve spent with Garrett, something that would’ve sent me on a three-week spiral years ago. But today, I palm my boobs, enjoying the heaviness to them, peek at myself in the mirror, loving the cheeky fit of my ass in these panties.

I run my fingers through my braid, breaking up the thick waves until my hair is a fluffy mess around my shoulders, and I can’t wait for Garrett to worship me.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the man’s got the most incredible hockey ass. He stands so casually as he waits for me, the sleeves of his button-down folded nearly up to his elbows, tapered pants snug around his lean waist, perfect butt, and thick thighs.

He turns toward me, pupils dilating, throat working as I close the space between us.

“So handsome,” I murmur, wrapping his tie around my fist, giving it a tug. He comes tumbling forward, gripping my biceps for balance. I drop the silk tie to our feet and work the buttons of his shirt. “Will you fuck me in your suit one day?”

His eyes widen, fingertips digging into my skin. I like when we do this flip-flop thing, trading off on the bold and the shy. We do it so effortlessly, like we were always meant to complement each other.

“Garrett?” My palms glide over his chest and shoulders, slipping his shirt off until it dissolves to a puddle on the ground. “I asked you a question.”

“I’ll do whatever the fuck you want me to do, Jennie.”

I smile, loosening his belt buckle, pulling his zipper down. When my palm closes around his cock through his boxers and he groans, my chest surges with pride.

“Good boy,” I murmur, letting his pants pool around his ankles. I push my hands down the back of his boxers, feeling the way his ass flexes under my touch before I drop them, too, to the ground. “Garrett?”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to sit down.”

“I—”

Palm on his collarbone, I shove him to the edge of the bed. His lips part, tongue running across, eyes fixed on me as I stand between his legs. I take his hand, grazing my belly with his fingers.

“Want to touch? Or watch?”

He swallows. “Can the answer be both?”

I giggle quietly. “No. It can’t.”

I open my bedside drawer, fingers fluttering over my favorite rainbow before wrapping around the one I’m looking for. Garrett said he wanted to fuck me with this, but I want to show him how I can fuck myself with it.

His breath stutters when I turn back to him. “Jennie, I—ho-ly fuck.” He drags his hands down his face in slow motion when I slap the suction cup base to the floor, right between his legs. “Are you gonna—you’re not gonna—right there? Oh my—I-I-I-I—I think I’m broken. Short-circuiting. Put me in rice. Is it a good time or a bad time to tell you I love you?” He laughs anxiously. “Holy-fuck-shit I think I really love you right now.”

My God, he’s the most endearing, adorable, and lovable human I’ve ever encountered. Nobody makes me smile like he does.

The bra goes first, satin straps slipping off my shoulders, dropping to Garrett’s lap before I hook my thumbs in my panties and shimmy them over my hips.

He clutches my underwear to his chest as I guide his legs wider, and when I hit the power on Indiana Bones, making him dance, Garrett’s hand closes around mine, stopping me.

“Do you need lube or something?”

I guide his hand between my legs, swiping his fingers through my center, where I’m absolutely drenched. He groans, and when I lift his glistening fingers, I ask, “What do you think, Garrett?” Based on the strangled sob that leaves his lips when I slowly suck his fingers into my mouth, I think he might be dying. “Do I need lube?”

“No,” he croaks.

“No,” I agree, collecting my wetness on the tips of my fingers, stroking slowly over my toy, coating it.

On my knees between Garrett’s legs, I guide the head of the cock to where I want this man before me most. Every thought leaves my brain as I ease myself down the length of it, moaning as it stretches me.

“Jesus fucking fuckballs.” Garrett’s fingernails bite into the flesh of his thighs. “I-I-I—I’m in heaven. I’m dead. Am I dead?”

God, it’s so deep, and when it pulses inside me, hitting that spot, I fall toward his lap, gripping his thighs, crying out. “Garrett.”

“Oh my God. I’m not dead.” He fists my hair, eyes wild as I pick myself up and drop, again and again, slowly, enjoying every aching second of it. “How the fuck are you real?”

Finding my rhythm, I wrap my fist around Garrett’s eager cock. Gazes locked, I drag my tongue along the underside of his rock-hard length before I swallow the tip, and my mouth slides down, down, until his cock hits the back of my throat.

Garrett’s head lolls back as he whimpers, and when he rights it again, large hands bracket my face as he stares down at me, watching. “You are a goddamn masterpiece.”

I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted something as much as I want to give myself to Garrett. I’ve given him pieces; now I want him to have the rest.

It’s been on my mind for a while. But I’ve never been sure I was ready, and that told me I wasn’t. And that was okay. He didn’t need anything else from me, only what I was willing to give. For once in my life, I was enough.

I’ve never been enough for anyone except myself. Garrett changes all of that. I never knew how much I needed someone like him until I found him, and I don’t think he realizes how grateful I am to have him.

So I’m going to show him.

My fingers find my clit, circling slowly as I ride the cock below me. Cupping Garrett’s balls in my free hand, I massage them lightly, and with a hiss, he jerks his hips forward. His cock slides down the back of my throat, making me gag, and I smile up at him.

Garrett groans, fingers plowing through my hair, gripping it in his fists. “Don’t you fucking look at me like that while you’ve got my cock in your mouth.”

I release him with a pop, and lick the corner of my wet mouth. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll show you exactly what it feels like to be fucked by me when you’re being a fucking brat.”

Gripping the base of his cock, I pump slowly, holding his gaze as I lick a languid stroke along it, swirling around the tip as he hisses above me. My hips rock back and forward, grinding. I feel like I’m glowing from the inside out. “Is that supposed to be a threat, big guy?”

Oh hello, angry Garrett. I’ve hit the jackpot.

One second I’m between his legs with his cock in my mouth, and the next he’s behind me, one hand digging into my waist, the other grasping my wrists tightly behind my back.

He holds me still, keeping me full but stopping me from chasing my high. I whimper, squirming, desperate for relief.

His teeth graze my ear, warm breath sending a shiver of desire down my spine. “What’s the matter, sunshine? You wanna come?”

“I can make myself come.”

“You sure can. But when I’m here, I make you come.” A rough hand squeezes my breast, thumb scraping across my nipple before his fingers dance down my stomach, finding that tight nub that always wants Garrett’s attention. Soft lips touch my shoulder. “The day we fuck is going to be like lightning, Jennie. I’m gonna light up your entire sky, the same way you do mine.”

There’s that tightness in my chest again, the one that’s been there for nearly a month now. It squeezes a little harder every time I’m with Garrett. I don’t know what to do about it. I want to tell him how I feel, to ask him where we go from here. Because I don’t know. This is all so new to me, and I feel inexperienced, overwhelmed. The truth is I’m fucking scared.

Scared the sex won’t satisfy him. Scared he’ll get bored. Scared it won’t work and we won’t be able to stay friends. Scared it will work, but somebody won’t like it.

I’m tired of being scared. I just want to be happy.

Garrett’s chin comes to rest gently on my shoulder, his hand on my jaw as he turns my face to his. He smiles, so handsome I think my chest might break wide open.

“Hi,” he whispers against my lips. “I hope you know you’re beautiful.” He kisses the tip of my nose, the apple of my cheek, down my neck, and along my jaw. He stops at my ear, and my nerve endings dance when he grips my chin, holding me there. “But I’m still gonna show you what it feels like to piss me off.”

With a punishing hold on my hips, he slams me down on the rubber cock. I fall forward with a scream, clawing at the floor, and his chest vibrates with a sinister growl. Then his open palm hits my ass, and when I come, I scream all over again.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he murmurs darkly as he maneuvers my body, pushing and pulling, taking and giving. Jesus Christ, does the man ever give. Fingers wrap around my throat, yanking me up to him, holding me against his solid chest as he works me over, thrusting, plunging, driving. “I can’t wait to see how perfectly you fit my cock. Can’t wait to see your beautiful face the first time I come inside you.”

A tingle starts low in my belly, spreading like wildfire through every fiber as my vision blurs. I writhe in his grasp as a second orgasm barrels toward me head-on, and when he whispers “Come for me” in my ear, he does exactly what he promised to do: makes my sky explode.

Fluorescent colors streak across my field of vision, lighting my world. My words dissolve until they’re nothing but garbled, nonsense sobs, and I collapse against Garrett’s body.

He sweeps me into his arms and stands, carrying me to the shower where he washes me tenderly beneath the warm spray. I can’t find it in me to speak a single word until we’re wrapped in blankets on my living room couch twenty minutes later, eating bowls of Corn Pops with my back against his chest.

“I got my ticket for your recital.”

I spin, nearly knocking his bowl onto my own head. “You did?”

“Mhmm. Can’t wait.”

I’m excited too. All my favorite people will be there, watching from the audience, and Garrett’s my favorite of all.

“I know we’re going for dinner afterward to celebrate with everyone—”

“For Carter’s birthday,” I clarify.

Garrett rolls his eyes. “He says to celebrate you; you say to celebrate him. I think we can celebrate you both.”

“Beckett’s don’t share center stage, Garrett.”

He chuckles softly and takes my bowl after he sets his down, draining the milk. “Well, I was thinking maybe we could do something afterward. Just the two of us.”

“We always do something with just the two of us.”

“Right. But this would be different.” His gaze bounces away, then back.

“Different how?”

“I donno.” He lifts a shoulder. “Special.”

“Special how?”

His throat works and his eyes track the lock of my hair that he twirls around his finger.

“Special how, Garrett?”

“Like a date, maybe. For Valentine’s Day. If you want.”

“If I want?” My heart gallops, a grin blooming. “Do you want?”

He licks his lips, tentative gaze meeting mine, and nods. “Yeah. I want.” He clears his throat and goes for it: word vomit, my favorite of his specialties. “I know it’s two weeks away, but I leave in two days for another road trip, and then I’m only home for one night, and we fly home again the day before the recital, so there’s not much time beforehand, and I know I said something special but we can’t really go anywhere because it’s a secret and all that but I thought maybe we could just make it special, like if we both don’t order dessert at the restaurant we could have it together instead and set up a picnic or something, maybe with candles and pillows and I donno, and you don’t have to get me a gift or anything, but I thought maybe it would be nice to, like…” He inhales a shaky breath and lets it go. “Have a real date.” He scratches his temple and winces. “That was rough, wasn’t it?”

“It was terrible,” I confirm. “But I think I can squeeze you in.”

His eyes flit down to mine, face flush with color, and he smiles. “Yeah?”

I smile too. “Yeah.”

“Grool.” He cringes. “Holy fuck. I did the Mean Girls thing. I started to say great but finished with cool.”

Snickering, I turn, slinging my arms around his neck. “You’re tired. You need to sleep.”

He sighs, squeezing my ass. “You’re right.”

I roll off him, taking the bowls to the kitchen. I find Garrett at the door, slipping his shoes on and doing up his pants.

“You’re going?”

He looks up, halting. “I thought…”

“No, that’s cool. Just asking.”

“’Cause you said I should sleep,” he explains.

“Right. I did.”

“So I should probably—”

“Do you maybe wanna—”

“Oh.” Garrett’s brows lift. “Were you saying something?”

“No. No, definitely not.” I wave my hands around, extra flail-y to distract from the fact that I have no idea what I’m doing. “You’re leaving.”

“I mean…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Unless you were gonna say…?”

“Who, me?” I point at myself. Yep, definitely turning into Garrett. “I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

Garrett’s head bobs slowly. “Great. Cool. Guess I’ll…leave then.”

I grin. “Grool.”

His laugh is my favorite, a hearty, warm sound, and when he tows me into him with a fistful of my shirt, the wave of emotions that hits me is truly staggering.

“Grool,” he whispers against my lips. “So grool.”