Game (Gentry Boys, #3)(11)

“You,” I whispered. “I want this.” An hour ago I would rather have died in the slowest, most excruciating way than utter the next word to Chase Gentry.

“Please,” I choked out and saw the fire in his eyes. He was close to the edge of crazed lust and the power of it made me tremble.

He nodded, pleased with me. His voice was rough. “Good girl.”





CHAPTER FOUR


Chase



Gotcha, baby. I f*cking got you.

I knew it from the way she walked off that elevator. Her steps were shaky, like it was tough for her to keep it together because her * was throbbing so badly. And then when I touched her arm and felt the shudder roll through her it was difficult not to gloat about it.

A split second later she launched into her usual ‘Chase Sucks’ pissed off act but that was only because she was mad that I was getting to her. I pretended to back off. I’d already recognized that Stephanie wasn’t a girl who gave it up easy. If this was going to happen then I would need to play it cool. But as soon as I saw an opening I was damn well taking it.

I wasn’t lying to her when I said I liked watching baseball. Baseball was a game of inches and that had always fascinated me. A slight wind blows the ball one way and it’s an out. Ball rolls slightly in another direction and it’s headed for the outfield, scoring two runs. The game didn’t have the brute power of football or the quick play of hockey or basketball. It moved slowly, requiring the steady brilliance of exceptional pitching, catching, throwing, and punctuated by a few moments of powerful talent mixed with chance. Who the hell wouldn’t be captivated?

But I could have feigned an interest in dog racing if that was what she had decided to watch. I’d heard rumors about Stephanie Bransky and what she was involved with; the kind of heavy duty gambling trade reserved for gruff men in smoky rooms or Martin Scorsese films. At first glance it seemed improbable that this petite blonde chick was capable of swimming in such murky waters. But after I watched Stephanie for a little while I saw how wired she was. She was sharp, she was intense, and she was the goddamn sexiest girl I ever saw. All the torn cutoffs and potato sack shirts in the f*cking world couldn’t hide it. The fact that she wouldn’t allow me to even breathe too close to her only made me harder, to the point where I was beating my shit four times a day at the thought of dominating that girl.

Truly had refused to dish on her roommate and I respected that. She’d waved her hand with impatience when I brought up the bookie business and was nothing but tight-lipped about whatever she knew of Stephanie’s history with guys. It was fine. I’d find out everything for myself.

“I’ll be right back,” Stephanie grumbled, grabbing a shabby backpack.

When she disappeared into the bathroom I knew she was warring with herself. I smiled as I listened to the water run in the next room and unbuttoned my shirt. I imagined her fretting in front of the mirror, suffering through an avid internal argument about how she needed to force me out of there. Yes, she was telling herself that was exactly what she needed to do, but underneath all that she wanted me and she just couldn’t bring herself to show me the door.

Stephanie was flustered when she emerged from the bathroom and saw me sitting there shirtless in the dark.

“Top of the ninth,” I told her.

“What the hell are you up to now?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

But she didn’t order me to leave. She’d already decided what she wanted. She just hadn’t admitted it yet. This night was locked up. It wouldn’t take me long to prove it.

“I win,” I said to her a few minutes later after a flip of a card, a supposedly innocent game.

“I guess you do,” she answered, looking nervous and uncertain.

I had no intention of stopping at a kiss. She knew it. But I played along until she was really worked up, arching her body against mine so I could feel the sweet promise of her * pressing against me. She apparently had a thing about getting totally naked and I was cool with that, for now. Steph pushed my hands away from her tits and shook her head, so I found other things to do. She liked it when pulled her on top of me and slipped my hands into her shorts. She liked it more when I slid her underwear down. Goddamn, but it almost f*cking ended me when we started dry humping. I hadn’t done that, hadn’t needed to, in a hell of a long time. I was as eager as a teenager rolling around in a backseat.

I want in. I want in so bad, honey!!

But she was close to coming. Her breathing had changed. She was letting out these soft little gasps and I could feel the tension in her body as she tried to get herself over the peak. Nothing on earth could make me interrupt this. I held her hips and got a deeper grind going. When I was sure she was on the brink I slid two fingers easily inside her as she reared her head back and let out a slew of filthy words. Her eyes were closed, her curly blonde hair fell into her flushed face and even with her stupid shirt on she was nothing but sheer sex. It was the biggest erotic victory I’d ever known.

I still made her tell me. I forced her to look me in the eye and admit that she wanted more. She did it willingly.

“Please,” she moaned and I knew I would replay that sound in my head ad nauseam; the sound of beautiful, obstinate Stephanie Bransky begging for my dick.

“Good girl,” I told her and rolled on a condom.

I was dying to take her shirt off and mess with her tits but she kept pulling it down over herself and I didn’t want to risk throwing cold water on the mood. I’d get to all that later.