Page 83 of Playing to Win
He shakes his head, chuckling. Removes his hand from my mouth so he can kiss me.
And he doesn’t stop. He keeps kissing me, his hand dropping to the front of my jeans, fingers fumbling over the button and the zipper. He drops his knee too, disappointment crashing inside me, replaced by total euphoria when he slips his hand into the front of my damp panties, rubbing my clit.
I don’t even know how we’re making this work, but we are. He’s getting me off with his talented fingers, his wicked mouth and sweeping tongue. The women being on the other side of the stall only makes it hotter. That we’re doing this in secret. That anyone could discover us.
He rubs me harder. Faster. I can’t catch my breath. Can’t focus, can’t even think. All I can do is feel, the sensations radiating through my veins, sparking my blood. I thump the back of my head against the stall door and close my eyes, that familiar feeling building within me.
I’m close. Like he knows it, he slows his pace, his fingers sliding up and down my pussy, just as he pushes one inside me, his thumb resting against my clit.
It’s sweet torture, what he’s doing to me. How delicious it feels. How he’s driving me out of my mind. One by one the women eventually leave the bathroom, and it’s surprising to me, how the place empties out so quickly that we’re the only ones left. This would never happen at Logan’s. The bathroom is always busy.
“Finally,” he mutters against my lips, just as his hand becomes busier. Bringing me to the brink. Leaving me hanging there until I fall over the edge, my body shaking.
His mouth lands on mine the moment the orgasm hits me, his lips swallowing my cries, my moans. I cling to him, riding out the orgasm, riding his freaking hand, and when the trembling finally subsides, I’ve got my face buried against his neck, my arms around his shoulders, my hands buried in his hair yet again.
“Fuck, you’re so hot, Red,” he murmurs against my forehead before he kisses it. He removes his hand from my still throbbing pussy, tugging the zipper up, though he’s not quite able to close it. “I should go.”
He carefully sets me on my feet, smoothing a hand over my hair, pushing it away from my face while I gape at him, still dazed from my climax. Confused as to why he’d just…leave.
Like this is it.
“Ace—” I clamp my lips shut, unsure what to say next.
His smile is small. Even a little sad. “I know, baby.”
That’s it. That’s all he says before he reaches behind him, undoes the lock and then slips out of the stall. I can hear his hurried footsteps slap across the floor, the door opening and closing, leaving me in silence.
Leaving me alone.
I take a fortifying breath and release it slowly, my heart still racing. My head still spinning. I don’t know how to explain exactly what just happened, but I feel changed.
I feel like I want to toss aside all responsible thought and chase after Ace. Beg him to take me home so we can continue where we left off. Is he purposely trying to drive me out of my mind?
Because it’s totally working.
TWENTY-SIX
ACE
It’s Saturday.Game day. Another one played at home and against our biggest rival, so the crowds are thick in the stands. Pretty sure the stadium sold out and even though we’re in the locker room, I can hear the roar of their voices, cheering along with the band, who came out early to put on a special performance.
My stomach is in absolute knots. I’m freaked the fuck out and think I might puke.
“You look green,” someone notes as they pass by me.
“Gee thanks,” I mutter after he’s gone, annoyed. All eyes are on me. My teammates. My coaches. Every fucker out there ready to watch me either win this game or…
Lose it.
I refuse to lose it.
“You okay?”
I turn to see Evan standing in front of me, a look of concern on his face. This guy is different from the majority of my teammates. He’s not such a macho asshole all the time. In fact, Evan doesn’t ever really act like that at all. Not that the rest of the guys on my team are complete dicks, but Evan is a decent human.
And I appreciate that more than he could ever know.
“I’m nervous,” I admit truthfully. Something I never do because I prefer to keep up the pretense that I’ve got my shit handled. If anyone ever saw a lick of doubt in my face or actions, forget it.
