The Game Plan
Page 84

She makes a little sound—half-whimper, half-groan—and I freeze, realizing that, in my desperation, I didn’t check to see if she was ready. She’s slick, but not enough. I move to draw away, maybe kiss between her legs and make it better.
But her hand slides down my back and grasps my ass. “Don’t stop,” she whispers. Please don’t stop.”
A groan tears out of me, and I thrust again, find her mouth with mine. Her body yields to me, soft and luscious, slick and tight.
Awareness ripples over my body. I feel the clench of my ass when I thrust, the tight pull of my abs as I drag back out. My skin prickles with heat, and my panting breaths mix with hers.
I get lost in the act of loving Fi, moving in and out of her with strong, steady strokes that have my cock pulsing and my balls drawing tight. I kiss her until my lips are swollen and sensitive.
Beneath me, Fi’s slim body trembles, little gasps leaving her as she lifts her hips to meet mine every time.
“You like that, darlin’?” I murmur into her mouth. “Like my cock moving inside you?”
She grips my ass harder, urging me deeper. “Yes. Yes.”
“Good, because it’s yours, Cherry. You’re the only one who will ever own this cock.” I rock into her, the bed creaking beneath us. “The only one who ever has.”
She whimpers, her back arching, her sweat-slicked skin pearlescent in the dim light. “Ethan…” The stiff tips of her nipples brush my chest as she writhes. “Ethan…”
She’s close. So close. The knowledge sends a punch of hot pleasure up my inner thighs. “Let go, Cherry love.” I thrust, working that spot within her that I know she loves. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
Fi’s entire body locks up on a wordless cry. Her head presses into the pillow, her nails digging into my flesh as she comes. Slick wetness coats my thighs as the walls of her sex milk my cock with rhythmic tugs.
It sends me over the edge, and I come with her, shouting so loud it echoes through the room. Panting, I roll to my side, pull her close. My body is limp with release. Fi lies quiet, and I can feel the pounding of her heart against her ribs.
A lone tear trickles down her cheek, but she’s softly smiling, her expression relaxed. “I needed that.”
I’m pretty sure I needed it more.
I brush away the tear with the tip of my thumb and kiss the corner of her eye. “Whatever you need, Fi, I’ll give to you.”
Even if it breaks my heart to do it.
Chapter Forty-Three
Fiona
Trudging to the bathroom, I feel hollow, yet calmer. Last night with Ethan made me remember how good it can be between us, how necessary. Nothing is perfect, but I feel grounded now. A little more myself.
In the shower, I turn the water to as hot as I can stand it. Ethan’s shower is a glorious thing with multiple heads, designed to shoot out water at different speeds and strengths. The first time I used it, they were all adjusted to his height, and I got a face full of water.
Hearing my shouts of ire, Ethan had run into the bathroom—and promptly laughed his ass off. A wet washcloth to the face ended his glee. He’d retaliated by fucking me up against the shower tiles until I cried for mercy.
I smile at the memory, my thighs tightening with a luscious pull that makes me want Ethan here now, loving me hard and deep all over again. But he’s already gone to the stadium to prepare for his game today.
I know he doesn’t want me to go to London. While he’s excellent at hiding his thoughts from the rest of the world, I can read him like a favorite story. I know the idea of me going away hurts him. But he agreed to it anyway. Because I wanted it.
For so long I thought I needed a man who was always there. One who’d cling to me and tell me he couldn’t bear to leave my sight. Which makes me wonder what the hell I was thinking. I like my space, those quiet times when I’m in my own world, creating a design or working on a piece.
A clinger would annoy the shit out of me. Ethan doesn’t do that. He has his own life, and while it sucks when he’s at an away game, when we’re together it’s perfection. Being apart and having those times to myself only makes me crave him more, makes me treasure our time together.
I tell myself it will be the same when I go to London, that our eventual reunion will be awesome. But it all feels off, wrong in some way. I think about leaving, and I’m not happy; I’m sad, desperate to hold onto Ethan and not let go. Does that make me the clinger now?
Frowning, I turn off the taps and reach for a towel. Only I make the mistake of turning on my phone as I brush my teeth. It’s habit, checking for messages, trolling the Internet. Stupid habit.
Because they’ve found me again. Doesn’t matter that I’ve changed all accounts. Ugly messages find their way to me.
U Suk cum slut
You dnt deserve him whore!
I wanna fuk U good.
With a shaking hand I delete it all, set the phone down, and close my eyes. I didn’t sign up for this, never wanted attention. But it’s my world now.
The reality of it threatens to break me. Even now, I can feel all that judgment pushing into my flesh and expanding outward, filling me with hate and self-loathing.
It makes me want to run. Far away. London seems like the answer. But even as I cling to the thought, I think of Ethan. I fear running will break us. He blames himself for this. If I leave, I’m confirming that it’s true.
They claim love conquers all. I used to believe that. Used to think that if someone just loved me enough, it would make everything better.