The Game Plan (Game On 3)

The flat of my tongue drags across thin, tight skin, the muscle beneath quivering, and I slowly part his jeans. Crinkly brown hairs greet me. Hell, there’s nothing under these here but Dex.

His cock slides out, standing up for attention.

“Jesus,” I rasp.

“What?” His hoarse whisper drifts down to me, and I glance up, see his flushed cheeks, his dazed expression. He’s panting now, a sheen of sweat glistening over his chest.

“Give me a moment,” I say, my hand reaching out to stroke his hot skin. He’s so fucking hard he pulses. He swallows, his cock jumping under my touch.

I have to take a breath and calm myself. Some girls don’t like cocks—or at least the look of them. I do. I love everything about the male anatomy. Dex’s is beautiful—big enough that I know it’s going to be work getting him in, and long enough that I know I’ll feel each thrust he makes. The thought alone has my thighs pressing together in anticipation.

But that’s not what holds my attention now. No.

He’s pierced. Silver studs glint at the base of his wide cock head. One on the top and one on the bottom. I’ve never been with a guy who’s pierced, but I’ve heard stories. I know those little nubs will hit all the right spots inside of me.

My thumb rubs the larger of the balls on the top, and Dex sucks in a sharp breath. But he doesn’t move. He’s waiting to see what I’ll say.

“Now, this,” I rub him again, loving the way it makes him twitch with pleasure, “had to hurt going in.”

“You have no idea,” he says in a raw voice.

“When?” And why?

Dex licks his lower lip. “After the wedding. You stripping down to that pretty green bra and those tiny panties. My wet dream walking. Should have gone for you then.”

I wasn’t ready for him then. I was still all about wild parties and dragging myself through college. I wouldn’t have appreciated Ethan the way he deserves.

I stroke along the underside of the flared head, finding the smaller steel piercing. His hips shift, and he hisses, but he lets me play.

“You could have found someone else,” I murmur. “Do you know how many women would kill to have you?”

“Didn’t seem to want anyone else,” he whispers. “It had to be you.”

God, the thought of him wanting me so badly. All that pent-up need hiding behind such a calm façade. It terrifies me. And it makes me want to take him hard and keep him forever.

His solemn eyes, framed by thick lashes, are open wide and trained on my face as his broad chest lifts and falls with each heavy breath.

“They have no fucking idea, do they?” My voice is barely a whisper.

He stills, the muscles along his torso going tight as he stares back at me. I don’t have to explain myself; he knows exactly what I mean, and he gives me the barest shake of the head, his throat working on a hard swallow.

No. No one sees him the way I do. Because he doesn’t let them. Content to stay in the shadows, provide support when needed, never demanding anything for himself. Until me.

I see Ethan Dexter; he shines for me. And I burn hotter than the sun when I’m in his orbit.

I take a deep breath, and the air feels hot and dry going down, I’m so needy for him. But this isn’t about me. Not right now.

My hand glides over his length, barely touching his silky skin. Even so, his whole body shivers, his expression pinching tight as though it’s both torture and ecstasy.

“No more thinking, Ethan. Show me how you want it.” I give the rounded tip of his cock a kiss, and it jumps against my lips. Eager, so unbelievably eager. My eyes stay on his. “I need you to show me.”

His nostrils flare on an indrawn breath, and then he reaches for me, his big hand spanning the back of my head. Long fingers twine in my hair, gathering it in his grasp. He holds me just tight enough that I feel it in my scalp. Hell, I feel it down my thighs.

They clench when he slowly guides my head back to his cock. Those serious eyes peer down at me. His voice is a low rumble. “Open.”

God.

My lips part, my breath coming in a soft pant. But he doesn’t shove himself in. No, he’s fucking deviant because he wraps his free hand around the wide base of his cock and slowly runs the fat, swollen crown over my upper lip.

The cool, metal ball runs along the seam of my lips, such a strong contrast to all that hot flesh, that a moan breaks from deep within me. Without bidding, I open wider, wanting him on my tongue.

His eyes burn into mine. “Give it a lick.”

And I do, a teasing flick along the tiny slit of his dick.

His nostrils flare. “More, Cherry. Lick it good and slow.”

“Like this?” I run the flat of my tongue around the crown, licking him up like he’s an ice cream cone.

Ethan bites his bottom lip, his lashes fluttering down, and manages to give me a nod. So I do it again, earning a moan from him.

“Oh, Jesus, Fi… Maybe…ah…God, Cherry, do whatever you want to me. I’m yours. I’m all yours.”

He’s sprawled back, his long body taking up all of the bed, one arm thrown over his forehead, his lip caught between his teeth as if in pain. He gazes down at me so full of lust and need, he seems almost helpless, this massive guy.

Mine.

Kissing the tip, I smile up at him, and then suck him deep.

He grunts loud and long, a garbled “unf” that tears from his throat as his back leaves the bed, almost dislodging him from my mouth. I wrap my fingers around his base, my free hand smoothing up and down his thigh, soothing as I work my tongue over his piercing.