Getting Played

“How was your night?” he asks, walking into the bathroom to brush his teeth, wearing navy boxer briefs that make my mouth water, because he looks so hot, and big and already semi-hard—and tonight’s the night I do something about it.

When he emerges a minute later, I rise up on my knees and move toward the edge of the bed. I feel ungainly and awkward but the heat that spikes in Dean’s eyes and the hunger that tightens his jaw makes me think I must look pretty damn seductive.

I can feel how much he wants me. I always could. And just like every time before—Dean wants me a hell of a lot.

I rest my arms on his shoulders and look into his ocean-blue eyes.

“Kelly Simmons stopped by the house today. She told me and Jason that she kissed you and you turned her down.” I run my fingers through the silky hair at the nape of his neck. “But I’d already decided that I believed you, before she came. I was going to tell you when you got home. It’s important to me that you know I believed you. Do you?”

He breathes out a sigh and tugs me closer. “Yeah, I do, Lainey.”

“And I’ve missed you.”

Dean runs his hands along my arms, up my neck, through my hair—just touching me.

“I’ve missed you too. So goddamn much.”

He holds my face and kisses my lips and it’s like my entire body goes slack with the relief of being close to him again. The stroke of his tongue makes my hips swivel and my muscles clench. And though there’s nothing to be done about it on my end—I’m going to take care of him. I want to show him—with my hands, my mouth, my tongue—how much I want him, how much he means to me.

I trail kisses along his collar bone and down his chest. I lick the water droplets from his skin and moan at the taste of him.

I maneuver my body so I’m on all fours and trace Dean’s abs with the tip of my tongue. His hand slides through my hair, occasionally clenching like he just can’t help himself and that shaky control turns me on even more.

Dean’s cock is a hard, thick outline beneath the navy cotton of his briefs. I mouth him over the thin fabric, letting him feel the heat of my mouth and the stroke of my tongue.

His head lolls back on his neck as I slip the boxers down his hips. His voice sounds strangled, like he may have swallowed his tongue.

And swallowing is my job.

“Lainey . . .”

“I want this, Dean. I want to touch you—taste you—I want it so much.” I look up at him, meeting his eyes. “Do you want me to?”

His hand fists in my hair again, tugging harsher.

“Christ, yes.”

And I smile—right before I pump him in my hand, and lick around the smooth, hot head of his dick. I don’t tease him—he’s waited long enough. I take the hard shaft between my lips and slide on the way down—until he’s balls-deep in my mouth.

And it’s so good. He tastes so fucking good—I moan around him. I withdraw slowly, stroking the underside of his shaft, then push back down until I feel his thickness nudge the back of my throat. Then I do it again and again—faster, wetter—sucking hard.

And it’s not just for Dean—this is for both of us. Because he makes me so happy and I love making him feel good.

My hands grasp his hips and I urge him forward and back—giving him permission to pump into my mouth.

“Jesus fuck.”

His breaths are gasping and his voice is a growl. He holds my shoulders and thrusts in quick, shallow strokes.

“Lainey,” he groans. “Coming…”

And then he does—hot and thick in my mouth—and it is glorious. I swallow him down and a simmer of naughty satisfaction races through me when Dean collapses, face-first, like dead weight on the bed beside me.

I pepper kisses all over his back, his arms—then I lean over and sink my teeth into his fabulous, firm ass.

He rolls over, laughing, and reaching up to nip at my neck.

“I’m keeping track—and you can bet your bitable ass I’m going to pay you back orgasm for orgasm and bite for bite, just as soon as the doctor gives us the okay.”

He shifts up to the pillows and tucks me in against him.

“Is that a promise?” I ask, going in for another kiss.

He smiles against my lips.

“Baby, it’s a guarantee.”

~ ~ ~

Dean

The morning after Lainey tells me she believes me about what went down with Kelly, that we can put it behind us—and then gave me the blow job of a lifetime—I wake up with this new, different sense of confidence settled in my chest. It’s invigorating and peaceful at the same time. The closest I can come to describing it is when you’re just steps from the end-zone, inches from the finish line—when the peak of the mountain is right there in your sight.

And you know—you know—you’re going to make it. That everything is going to be all right. Better than all right. That life is about to get real joyous, real quick and chock-fucking-full of amazing.

Just around the time I’m thinking the day can’t get much better, it does. While I’m in the nursery, putting the crib together. And Jason walks in the room, looking at me in a way he hasn’t looked at me in weeks—like I’m not an asshole, not an enemy. His hazel eyes, the same shade as his Mom’s, are soft and open and a little hesitant.

“Hey.” He lifts his chin, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Hey.” I greet him back from the floor, with a wrench in my hand.

“What’s going on?” Jay asks.

“Nothing. What’s going on with you?”

He shrugs. “Nothing much.”

He points at the pieces of cream, wooden crib sprawled across the floor. “Do you, um, want some help with that? We could do it together . . . if you want.”

My throat squeezes and the backs of my eyes go hot. Because it’s a simple question—but it means so much more than what the words say. We’re guys—we don’t need to talk and analyze every detail and emotion. Shit happened, and it sucked, but now Jason wants to move on. Let it go. He wants us to be friends again.

“I, ah . . .” I clear my throat. “I’d love that, Jay.”

“Cool.”

He sits down next to me and reads over the instruction manual. After a few minutes of tightening bolts, Jason says, “So, I was thinking about asking Quinn to junior prom. Do you think it’s too early?”

“It’s never too early to lock down a date for prom.”

Jay nods thoughtfully.

“Are you asking her as a friend or more than a friend?” I ask, though I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.

“The latter,” Jay confirms. “But I’m not sure if I should tell her that part. I don’t want to lose her as a friend, you know?”

It feels every bit as cool as I imagined talking to Jason like this. Passing on my vast knowledge and skills to such a worthy pupil.

“Would you not want to be friends with her anymore if she’s not into you?” I ask.

“No—I’d still want to be Quinn’s friend.”

I stand and line up the last side of the crib as Jason holds the other piece.

“Quinn doesn’t seem like the type to ditch you because you have feelings for her,” I point out. “Even if she doesn’t return them.”

Jason’s forehead crinkles as he takes this in. “No, she wouldn’t do that.”

I tighten the last bolt, and put my hand on Jay’s shoulder.

“Then go for it. Be bold.” I wink. “Girls dig bravery.”

Jason smiles, happy and sure, and that mixture of contentment and exhilaration slams into me again, even stronger than before. And I know without a doubt, we’re going to be okay.

Chapter Nineteen

Lainey

Spring comes early to Lakeside. I film and post videos on spring cleaning tricks and Dean carries me outside, where I sit in my overalls, in the dirt of the flower beds, and with him and Jaybird plant tulips and hyacinths, daffodils and peonies that are bursting with color all around the ho

use. The cherry blossom trees bloom and scatter the backyard in a shower of soft pink petals every time the wind blows. Grams and the Gray Army refinish the dock—making for some hilarious videos that the Lifers absolutely love. Dean and Garrett build a brick firepit off the back patio—working shirtless—which the Lifers love even more. By the end of March, I have double the subscribers to Life with Lainey than I did when I first signed the contracts with Facebook.

It’s a magical time for me and Dean and Jason—for our family. A peaceful, beautiful time.

At the thirty-eight week mark in my pregnancy, I have an appointment with my OBGYN, and—blessed be—she takes me off bed rest! Off all restrictions. It feels like Christmas and my birthday and the 4th of July all rolled into one. Not that I plan on doing anything too wild and crazy—because I’m gigantic—but just knowing I’ll be able to stand and walk, dance and yes, skip again is more exciting than I can describe.

There’s also another fantastic benefit. . . one that Dean and I put to immediate use the minute we walk into the kitchen and see a note from Jason that he’ll be out for the rest of the day with Quinn.