The Name of the Game (17 page)

Declan nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

She looked at the professor. “Deal?”

James nodded. “Deal.”

She jerked her chin toward the back. “I'm going to hit the ladies' room.”

“You do that,” James said, watching her go.

“I knew it!” Declan said, pointing at him.

“Knew what?” James's attention didn't drift from Gracie's ass, which was probably par for the course with the rest of the males in the room. How could a woman look so fuckable wearing pink Converse?

“I knew she was your girlfriend,” Declan said, staring after her departing form right along with him.

James shook his head. “She's not my girlfriend. She happened to be in town and I thought we'd show her a good time.”

Declan snorted. “Dude, do I look stupid to you?”

No, he did not, but James wasn't about to make any confessions to his cousin. He shrugged. “She's a friend, that's all.”

Declan rolled his eyes in the exaggerated way only a teenager could manage. “Whatever.”

Gracie grinned at James as he sat at his island counter, while Declan talked a mile a minute. The more comfortable the boy got, the more animated he became, and he bounced around the kitchen like the Energizer Bunny as he helped Gracie with the s'mores cupcakes they were making. Declan's choice.

After indoor rock climbing, they'd decided to forgo laser tag, and headed back to James's house. Gracie had gone to the store to get supplies and returned to find the two of them in a heated conversation about some indie game that had just come out.

Declan loved it.

James argued that it was a pale imitation of some game called
Meat Boy
.

All Gracie could think was that it was a strange new world.

“How much cocoa powder, Gracie?” Declan asked, standing there with the container in his hands.

“Half a cup,” she said. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched James watch her.

Despite Declan's presence, they'd grown increasingly bold, and Gracie was surprised to find James was a good flirter. Full of cunning innuendo and dry wit that made her so hot, she worried she might spontaneously combust.

James's gaze dipped to her mouth. “Are you sure these are going to be worth it?”

She placed a hand on her cocked hip. “Do you think I'd make you something that wouldn't convert you forever?”

He straightened and patted his flat stomach, flashing those killer dimples at her. “I don't want to eat too many calories.”

She understood now he was teasing her, and didn't take offense. But she did give him a good pout, huffing and waving her arm in exasperation. “By the time I'm through with you, calories will be the last thing on your mind.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really.” She flicked a glance over him. “You'll be begging me for more.”

Declan sighed and turned on the hand mixer James had pulled out from the back of his cabinet. A few minutes later, the cupcakes were out of the oven cooling, the frosting was done, and Declan had run off to the bathroom, leaving her alone with James in what felt like the first time in forever.

She dipped a finger into the creamy chocolate frosting and held out her hand to him. “Try some.”

He slowly stood, and walked around the counter to stand in front of her.

Gracie's heart kicked up a notch as she boldly met his gaze.

He grasped her hand, bent his head, and sucked her finger into his mouth.

The hard suction traveled all the way down to her toes. She bit her lip as his tongue swirled and licked the frosting clean. When he raised his head, his green eyes were as dark as moss. “Delicious.”

She gulped.

“Save some. I can think of other, more interesting places I'd like to lick.” His tone was dark and filled with promise.

The mental image of how talented his tongue was, how he'd brought her to a screaming orgasm, filled her mind.

His attention drifted to her mouth as his hand slid around her neck. “I haven't kissed you today.”

Throat dry, she managed, “No, you haven't.”

“I need to rectify that.” His fingers tangled in her curls, tightening to lift her head up.

“Yes,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.

He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. A light, feathery touch when she wanted so much more.

She rose to her tiptoes, but he didn't deepen the kiss. Instead, he flicked his tongue along her bottom lip. She breathed out, “James.”

In answer, his teeth scraped along her wet flesh and her stomach jumped.

“I want you.” Another brush of his lips. “But you're going to be the one begging.”

Her fingers curled into the cotton of his shirt. “We'll just see about that.”

“Yes, we will.”

Just as his mouth covered hers, a throat cleared.

They jerked away from each other.

Declan stood, grinning at them, arms crossed. “Just friends, huh?”

Chapter Fifteen

“Come on, have another one.” Gracie puffed out her lower lip, letting out the full force of her flirty nature now that Declan had gone home and she was alone with James.

She stood in front of him where he sat on the couch, and offered him a plate of cupcakes.

He rubbed his belly, shaking his head. “Gracie, please have mercy on me.”

“Pretty please,” she said, her voice a seductive purr. “After all this time, I finally have you right where I want you.”

One brown brow rose. “Eating cupcakes? That's where you want me?”

She nodded, grinning at him.

He leaned forward and put his hands on her thighs, tugging her forward.

She resisted, but as she was fast learning, when James was determined, he got his way. He was just a lot quieter about it; sneakier.

He took the plate from her hands and placed it on the side table next to the couch. He met her gaze. “Come sit on my lap and we can negotiate.”

She didn't even bother to hesitate. He still wasn't anything like the men she normally dated. Instead, somehow, he was impossibly better. She climbed on top of him, straddling his legs and running her hands down his chest. “So, about those cupcakes.”

He'd taken off his glasses again, and his eyes were dark as he trailed his fingers down the curve of her spine. “You're very talented.”

“Thank you,” she said, her breath catching.

“But I'm not in the mood for cupcakes.”

“This isn't much of a negotiation.” Heat raced along her skin.

His fingers tightened on her waist. “Take off your top, Gracie.”

Two could play this game. She shook her head. “First chocolate.”

“Arms up.” He inched the fabric up her waist.

“What do I get in return?” She couldn't deny that the near constant verbal foreplay made her weak.

“My mouth on your breasts.” He rocked up while pressing her hips down, causing a lightning bolt of pleasure to shimmer through her.

On a gasp, she said, “You're not what I pictured.”

“What did you picture?” His palms slipped under her top and slid up her back.

“You know what I pictured.”

He smiled, flicking his gaze over her. “Well, you were right about one thing. I do like to fuck in the missionary position.”

“That doesn't surprise me, Professor.” She kept her tone light, but it wasn't the truth; everything about him surprised her.

A slow chuckle. “I think you'll like it.”

“Why do you think that?”

“You'll feel possessed, taken.” His fingers squeezed her hips. “And how long has it been since you've felt that?”

Throat going dry, she gulped. A long, long time. Slowly she raised her arms.

“Good girl,” James said, his voice strong and sure.

She shivered with desire.

He whisked the top over her head, but instead of going right for her bra as she'd expected, he just sat there, studying her. Her bra was simple nude lace that supported more than it revealed. He ran his hands up her back. “You have no idea how many times I've pictured you like this.”

The comment spread pleasure throughout her whole body. “Have you?”

He traced the seam of her bra with his finger and she jolted as his thumb brushed her nipple. “Countless times. Put your hands in back of you, rest them on my knees.”

“You're bossy.”

With an arch look, his lips curved into a smirk. “Do you have a problem with that?”

She swallowed; she liked to be in control. While she'd always dated alpha men, she'd kept sex playful. Dirty, yes, but still light. Something about James didn't feel quite the same way. It was the same certain something that always unsettled her about him. He didn't give her the upper hand. She licked her lips and said in a breezy tone, “Do you always have to be in control?”

“Yes.” He delivered the word simply, like a statement of fact.

“What if I don't like it?”

He met her gaze. “What if you do?”

Her breath shuddered as she drew air deep into her lungs. And wasn't that what she was a tiny bit afraid of?

His attention shifted to her hands. “Do what I ask and I promise you won't be sorry.”

It was sex. Just sex. It's what she'd come here for. Slowly, she lowered her arms and rested her palms on his knees. The position arched her back, thrusting her breasts forward.

“Trust me, baby girl.” He murmured a sound of appreciation and cupped them in his large palms, stroking over the silky fabric, brushing back and forth over her nipples until it became the worst type of tease. She grew restless as he took his time, watching her with the type of intensity only he could manage. He leaned down and sucked one nipple through the fabric and her head fell back as her hips rocked forward.

His mouth felt so good, so right, and suddenly the fabric that separated them was too much. She wanted to be free. “James.”

In answer, he switched to the other side, biting her through the fabric. His knuckles skimming up and down her peaked nipple.

“Please.” The word a plea, she needed his mouth on her skin.

He lifted his head and gazed at her, his eyes glassy with desire. Slowly. Deliberately. He ran one finger over the tops of the cups, tracing the stitching on her bra, rubbing up and down the front clasp until she wanted to scream at him to hurry. But this was James and he would not be rushed.

Wanting to protest, to take control of the situation that was rapidly spiraling away from her, she bit her bottom lip, her grasp tightening on his knees while he tortured her. Touching her everywhere but where she wanted most.

Her breath grew ragged.

Time suspended.

And finally,
finally
, he flicked the clasp open with one hand, the gesture making it clear he'd had plenty of practice.

He needn't worry; she was long past underestimating him.

He peeled the cups away like he was unwrapping the finest of presents. Her heavy breasts swung free, dropping without the support of her bra. He pushed the lingerie down her arms until it fell to wrap around her wrists.

She held her breath.

He didn't attack.

He didn't say anything.

He just stared.

Under his perusal, the instinct to cover herself became too strong, and she moved, lifting her hands off his knees. The bra fell to the floor.

His jaw instantly hardened. “Don't even think about it.”

She gulped and returned her hands to his knees.

And still he just stared.

She nibbled on her bottom lip.

Nothing.

He didn't even move.

“James?” Her voice soft and tentative.

“Shhh, I'm having a religious experience here. Don't interrupt.”

A smile quivered at her lips. She would have thought he was joking except for the hoarseness in his tone.

At long last he seemed to shake himself from his daze. He inhaled deeply, making her aware of the expanse of his chest as she sat half naked on top of him. “You are, by far, the most spectacular woman I have ever laid eyes on.”

She'd received a lot of compliments in her time, but never had one hit her like his did. “Thank you.”

Later she'd worry about what it all meant, how much she cared what he thought, but for now, she relaxed.

“You should be naked all the time. Thank God I have so many years of being disciplined, or this would be over before it began.” He cupped her and brushed his thumbs back and forth over her nipples.

She jolted like she'd been hit with an electric shock.

“Jesus, I love when you make that sound.” He pushed her breasts together. “It makes me so damn hard.”

She gripped his knees, arching into his touch.

“Soft?” He stroked feather light over her skin.

“Or hard?” He pinched, squeezing as he rolled the peaked buds between his thumb and forefingers.

A harsh gasp escaped her as she keened at the sheer, exquisite pleasure.

“We have a winner,” he said, and repeated his actions.

Over. And over. And over.

Again and again.

Until she was nothing but an incoherent mess of need.

After what felt like an eternity his mouth closed over her swollen nipple. She cried out at the torment.

His tongue circled, languorous. Laved the now abused flesh. His teeth scraped over the distended bud, pulling oh so gently.

She wanted to scream. Never in her life had anyone paid this much attention to her breasts.

She needed friction. She circled her hips, belatedly realizing the way he'd positioned her hands took direct contact off her clit.

Had he done it on purpose?

She thought of all that methodical attention to detail. This seeming desire for complete control. Of course he had.

He bit down as his fingers squeezed.

Hot, wet mouth.

Ruthless fingers.

Teeth.

Tongue.

She wanted to die. The orgasm coiled, tight and desperate, but refused to tumble over the precipice. With only the slightest pressure she'd come. Unable to stand it any longer, she moved her hands.

His head shot up, his jaw hard. “No. Keep them there.”

“James, you're killing me.” Was that needy voice even hers?

“Don't move.”

She needed to come. Was desperate for it. And that wouldn't happen unless she moved out of this damned position. She cocked a brow. “Or what?”

He smiled at her then and it was pure wickedness. “Or I'll tie you down and make this look like child's play. If you're needy now, imagine how you would feel after an hour.”

She gaped at him, shocked and aroused, her need beating an insistent ache through her. “You wouldn't.”

“I absolutely would.” His words were sure, confident. She didn't think he was bluffing. “So don't distract me.”

They stared at each other for several long moments as she tried to process this new information about him. His green eyes were unblinking. There wasn't a hint of doubt in him.

Instead of cooling, she was on fire. Her body throbbed with demand. This is something she'd never had, a man she couldn't control, and while it scared her, she found it to be the most powerful of aphrodisiacs.

Slowly she put her hands back on his knees.

Pure male satisfaction filled his expression. Arrogance hardened the lines of his strong cheekbones. “So we understand each other.”

She nodded.

He sighed, running his hands down her back. “I lost my place, I'll have to start again.”

She had no idea how many minutes had passed as she groaned, unsure if she was in heaven or hell.

“Please, James, now.” Was that her voice? That raspy, needy growl?

Her head fell back as James's mouth sucked at her breast. He was evil. Pure evil. She'd lost track of time, of thought, lost track of everything but his mouth and hands as they relentlessly played with her breasts.

She'd moaned, cried out, begged, and still he persisted. Her hips were in constant motion, seeking a friction he never delivered.

“James, I am begging you.” She clutched at his knees. The sad thing was, she didn't care about begging and she guessed he'd done that on purpose too. She'd pay him back. Later. Much, much later.

He growled, shifted to grip her hips, and toppled her to the couch. He covered her, the heat of their combined bodies an inferno as his mouth covered hers in a raw, dirty kiss.

She clutched at his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin to keep him closer.

Their tongues met, dueled.

They went at each other like they were starving. Like they couldn't get enough.

Their lips were hard and demanding. Frantic.

She wanted to crawl inside of him. The world spun, crazy and out of control, as she attempted to devour him. More hungry and desperate than she'd ever felt in her life.

She pulled at his T-shirt, wishing she could shred it off his body. He seemed to understand because he ripped away and pulled the cotton over his head before he took her mouth. Overwhelming her.

The heat of his body, his hard chest against her aching breasts, had her snarling. It was sheer excruciating pleasure, as sharp as a blade. His mouth swallowed her cry, answering back with a primal, animalistic sound. He moved, creating a friction between her nipples and his bare skin. She rose to meet his hips only to discover he'd moved away from her. She growled, conveying all her neediness in her kiss as she raked her nails down his back hard enough she had to have drawn blood.

He whispered against her mouth, “That's it, mark me.”

“James, please, I need you so much.”

“I know.” He pulled several condoms out of his jeans, throwing them on the coffee table before moving to her zipper. With a patience that made her want to kill him, he slowly unzipped her jeans and pulled them down her legs, taking her panties along with them until she lay naked beneath him.

He stopped, stared, and shook his head. “You're a fucking walking fantasy.”

She'd heard statements to that effect before, but with James it meant so much more. She went hot all over. “Thank you.”

He ran his hands down her body, skimming over her waist and hips before sweeping back up again. “In my head, we take this slow. But I'm not sure I can. I need to take you. To pound into you hard and fast.”

She arched off the couch. “Yes, please.”

He stroked over her skin, down her hipbones to her wet, engorged center. His fingers brushed her clit. She cried out, as almost immediately a climax swelled inside her. He moved away, leaned down and brushed her lips so gently she wanted to weep from it. “You're so damn wet.”