Game For Love: Love Games (Kindle Worlds) (11 page)

“Right. We’ve been sacked. That brings up, let’s say, third and seven. The only option now is for a short pass to pick up the first down.”

“So you’re going to make a pass? Funny, I thought that had already happened.” Her voice was soft and low, more husky than before, and Declan realized she was as close as he was. He could hear it in her voice, smell her arousal, certainly felt how close she was with his hand. He couldn’t bear to take his fingers away from her, not when she felt so good.

“Put the condom on me, Marlee, I have my hands full.” He eased back just an inch or two to allow Marlee access to his erection. She picked up the package and, with hands trembling with desire, and with Declan fingering her, tore open the package and rolled the condom onto his hard cock. He brushed her hands away from him then, not allowing her to touch him any longer than necessary. It would definitely make him go offsides.

“Touch your breasts, again, Marlee. I love to watch you touch yourself there.”

Marlee didn’t hesitate, and he loved that about her. She pinched her nipples and pulled on them, as Declan had done to her with his mouth. His eyes shone his approval. “That’s it, baby. Sometimes a little unnecessary roughness is just what’s needed to let the opponent know where you stand.” She moaned in agreement, the back of her head pressing into the mattress.

“So, third down. I throw a short screen pass to a runner and hope he can pick up the extra yards with a move or two.”

“A move or two?”

His hand spread her wider, and he laid his cock against her throbbing core. Set it on her, almost balancing it there, freeing that hand so that he could put a finger inside her. “You know, nothing fancy, just a move, a dance, a juke, to get the desired results.” His finger slipped inside, and he swiftly added another. They went in easily, she was so slick and wet. And hot. So, so hot.

His thumb eased up under his shaft and made tiny circles around her nub. It was distended and tender. He flicked over it, but realized from Marlee’s intake of breath how sensitive it was. He instead began stroking the surrounding flesh. Declan could feel the vibrations pouring from her. Her head began to roll from side to side. Gorgeous, naked, his fingers inside her, his cock resting on her, his thumb practicing magic within her. He was reeling with sensation just watching her. Her own hands were on her breasts where he’d wanted them, where his eyes were now watched.

Her breath came in short gasps and her beautiful face went into full flush.
 

“That’s it, Marlee. Get there. Get there, baby. Get your first down.” His fingers inside her wiggled upwards, scraping the tender skin, and his thumb once again flicked across her. “Come for me, Marlee.”

His voice sent her over. “Oh, God. Declan.” Her body stiffened, then burst. She convulsed around his fingers as her body cried out. Her breasts jiggled as she gasped for breath. Declan coaxed her body along with soft whispers of encouragement and with slow pressure from his hands. He was taking all he could from her, not letting her come down until he was ready. She heaved again, spiraling higher than she had the first time.

After what seemed a breathtaking eternity, Declan slowed his touch to a soft stroking, and Marlee began her descent. Her breathing returned to normal and she seemed to regain her focus, which she then turned on Declan.

“So, the moves were made and the desired effect was achieved,” she said when she finally spoke. She bent at the waist to sit up, but he moved a hand to her tummy and gently held her down.

“Yes, but let’s say, again for the sake of your education, that the pass was incomplete.”

“You threw a bad pass? Do you do that?” she teased.
 

“No. Never. Any pass of mine that wasn’t caught was entirely the receiver’s fault.” They shared a smile at his teasing. Holy shit, she’d just come apart in his hands and that smile—her smile—made him even harder.

He moved his hands to the tops of her thighs, caressing, stroking. His erection was tight up against her, hovering near her entrance. “Right. So, fourth down. This is when you’d normally punt it away, so the other team has further to go. But if it’s only a few yards, sometimes you go for it.”

“And are we? Going to go for it, I mean?” It wasn’t a loaded question, but Declan felt there might be all sorts of deeper meanings in that simple ask. He seriously wanted to…go for it. With Marlee.

“Absolutely.” He skimmed his hands down her thighs; when he got to her knees he bent them, causing her to take her calves from behind him, where they’d been locked to his thighs. Though he mourned the loss of contact, he had something better in mind and Marlee saw it from the gleam in his eyes as they locked on hers.

“So. Let’s say fourth and two, that’s when you’d typically go for it. This is easy, a quarterback sneak, where I take the ball and dive through the line. Or hand off to a bruiser of a running back and let him bulldoze his way through. Pretty standard stuff.” He lifted her knees, ran his hands down her calves, and placed her feet over his shoulders. At her look of surprise, he continued, “Except…”

“Except?”
 

Still standing, he spread his legs a little, giving himself better leverage.

“Except I hate standard stuff. So, instead of the short run, I call something different. Something I’m really good at, something I love to do.”

“What’s that?”

Declan took one hand from Marlee’s thigh and guided himself inside her wet sheath, totally immersing himself in one hard stroke.

“I go deep.”

And he did.

Did Marlee’s gasp drown out Declan’s groan or was it the other way around? He didn’t know, and didn’t care, so great was the sensation of being buried—finally—in Marlee. He only allowed himself a second to bask in the warmth before he began to move. Long, deep strokes that made her hands leave her breasts and go to her mouth and eyes, like her senses were overwhelmed. He knew his were.

Declan’s hands left her thighs and grabbed her waist, anchoring her as he pounded into her, his rhythm picking up speed and intensity. He could feel his balls slapping into her ass as she lifted herself into him, meeting his thrusts.

Knowing she was again close, he forced her to look into his eyes. They were shining. With passion? Desire? Something else? All of the above? Declan wasn’t sure, and, really, he didn’t care. His eyes were on hers and he was about to come inside her. Come with her. His strokes became shorter, fiercer.

“Look at us, Marlee—look at where I’m inside you. Look at how well we fit together. Watch me come, Marlee. Watch me come inside you.” She followed his eyes as they lowered to where their bodies joined, and once again, it was his words that sent her over.
 

Her body spiraled as it had before, and her body shook, but it felt deeper, more connected. It was connected—literally. To him. His shudders as he reached his release caused a soft smile from her, which he barely registered.
 

Buried deep in Marlee was one of the best feelings he’d ever had. Right up there with winning the Rose Bowl and the Super Bowl. Maybe even better, because Marlee wasn’t going anywhere, while his playing days had always been finite. He could achieve this…this…whatever it was with Marlee indefinitely.
 

Had he had any energy left, Declan would have jumped at the unsettling thought. But he didn’t. What strength he did have was spent scooting Marlee and himself to the middle of the bed so that he could touch all of her body. Careful not to leave her, he arranged them on their sides, Declan still buried inside her, her thigh thrown over his. He wrapped his arms around her, and for the first time since this morning at the studio, kissed her mouth. It was warm and soft and she kissed him back. She broke away, looked at him, then leaned over to whisper in his ear.

“Touchdown.”
 

Chapter Eight

E
ven though several hours of lovemaking had passed, it was only ten o’clock in the evening and Declan was hungry. They’d had a very early dinner at the diner, and they had more than worked off the small Greek salads they’d consumed. He supposed it would take a while for his body’s metabolism to come down from his heavy, workout-based existence. He’d have to be careful.
 

Declan loved to cook, and eat, and was good at both. Without the daily weightlifting sessions and practice, he’d probably get a gut, and then some. The thought of love handles made him mentally shudder. Never one for vanity, Declan still acknowledged that turning to fat would kill him. Plus, if this broadcasting thing worked out, he’d have to watch his weight. He grinned. Just another reminder that he had now joined the everyday ranks—paying attention to his figure.

He slipped out of bed and into his jeans, leaving them unbuttoned and slung low on his hips. An exhausted Marlee barely noticed his movements, and made none of her own. His clothes were scattered all over her bedroom floor where they had been discarded. After some searching, he found his shirt and threw it at her. “Here, throw this on, and let’s raid your fridge.” Marlee’s head perked up instantly and she began finding the sleeves of Declan’s shirt.
 

“Oh sure, I leave your bed after satisfying you for hours and you don’t even look up. But the first mention of food, and you’re scrambling to get dressed,” he teased. Although, if he were honest, it had stung the smallest amount when Marlee hadn’t reached for him when he’d risen.
 

Declan had gotten out of a lot of beds, and that had never happened before. Normally the woman would be in his arms like a shot, kissing and caressing, reaching for his dick to try to get him to stay. Just another way Marlee was different.
 

“Priorities. It’s all about priorities,” Marlee shot back as she breezed past him. On her way to the door she stopped and reached to the floor for something, unknowingly giving Declan an eyeful as the shirt slid up her long thighs and revealed just the beginnings of her heart-shaped ass. She came up with the retrieved item—his scarf—slung it around her neck, flipped the excess around her shoulders like an old-time daredevil pilot, and proceeded out the bedroom door.
 

The sight of Marlee, long hair finally totally unbound and disheveled from their escapades, wearing only his shirt and scarf, made Declan harden again. The idea of Marlee wearing
only
the scarf about sent him through the roof.
 

His stomach growled, and for a moment Declan couldn’t decide which of his basic needs he would satisfy first. He followed her downstairs.

The lights had been out when Declan had carried Marlee upstairs. She’d now turned them on so they could find their way to the kitchen. Declan was shocked at Marlee’s living room decor. It was nearly a mirror image of his own. It was smaller, more modest, but the same layout, the same style, the same obvious care had gone into her choices as had his.
 

It was a country/contemporary look. It had warm, soft, oversized furniture that was certainly passable for formal entertaining, but was meant to be used by a family. Comfort being the main goal. A chair and a half with a large ottoman, an inviting sofa, a wooden rocker with a chenille throw lying over one of its arms.
 

One of the walls was painted a deep, dramatic color that Declan figured had some fancy name, but looked like a deep pink or light red to him. It was eye-catching, and was something he had tried in his home, only with a different color. He liked the way Marlee’s had turned out better. The textures were warm cottons and chenilles, deep, rich colors that made the room seem welcoming instead of formal. The fireplace was the focal point of the room, just as Declan had designed his.

He walked to the fireplace, drawn to the family photos displayed on the mantel. He had done the same thing at his place. Marlee had used wooden frames, all different, for her photos, while Declan had gone the same route, but with silver frames.

Marlee joined him. “I know, I know…it should be a gas fireplace. I thought about converting it. I know the sell…they’re cleaner, less mess, more heat, controllable, but…”

“It’s just not the same as burning wood,” Declan finished. “I feel the same way. I went round and round with the contractor over mine, but I was adamant. I wanted a real one. Plus, I love to chop my own wood every spring. It’s great for keeping my throwing shoulder loose during the off-season.” He pointed to the mantel. “I like what you’ve done with the pictures. I kind of tried the same thing. Problem is, my nieces and nephews grow so fast, it’s almost impossible to keep the damned things updated.”

Marlee chuckled. “I know what you mean. See him?” Declan followed her finger as she pointed to a photo of a cherubic three-year-old in a Captain Hook costume, holding what was undoubtedly a trick-or-treat bag. He had Marlee’s auburn hair, in a little boy’s mushroom cut, and Declan leaned in closer to see the boy had Marlee’s warm green-gold eyes as well.
 

“He’s now a freshman in high school. The others are more recent; I just could never bring myself to take this one down. I’d taken him trick-or-treating that year, and he was so funny in that costume. He nearly put out my eye several times with that Styrofoam hook. When he comes over I invariably catch him trying to hide it.”

“Does most of your family live in the area?” Declan realized that he knew nothing about the background of the woman in whose body he had just found incredible comfort. That was nothing new for Declan. He seldom spent more than a few dates and a couple of nights of sex with any one woman. And certainly never taking the time to find out about their family. Truth was, they weren’t the type of women who Declan could envision taking their nephew trick-or-treating.