End Game

by Emily Goodwin

  Hoping that doesn’t mean he has to go back into the hospital to deal with the issue, I quickly strip out of my clothes and put on the lab coat, pulling it around me just enough to cover my nipples. Then I sit on Archer’s bed, perfectly posed. And wait.

  And wait.

  And wait some more.

  I’m starting to get bored, and sitting here with my stomach sucked in—sorry baby—and my tits pushed out is not comfortable. Finally, Archer hangs up and comes into the room.

  “Sorry about that. We still need to talk about—” He cuts off when he sees me, jaw dropping just a little.

  “You’re late for your appointment.” I narrow my eyes, biting my lip. “But luckily I’m still able to squeeze you in.”

  Archer closes the door behind him and jumps on the bed, landing over top of me. “You do have a very tight schedule. Are you sure you can fit me in?” He moves between my legs, cupping my face and pushing me back.

  “It’ll be hard, but I think I can make it work.” With hormones still making my sex drive crazy, I’m fighting with myself to stay patient and not rip Archer’s boxers off and bring his cock right to me. Not that he’d mind, but if I can keep this going a bit longer, he’ll more than appreciate it.

  “I’m so sorry, doctor,” he says as he kisses my neck. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  “I’m sure you will.” I put my hands on his shoulders and push him off me. “Now, we better get your exam started.” Moving out from underneath him, I shove him as hard as I can onto the mattress. He’s bigger and stronger than me and there’s no way I can really push Archer around. He goes along with it, falling back onto the bed.

  “According to your chart,” I begin, kneeling over him. I slowly peel the coat back, letting the fabric slide down my breasts. Archer watches with wide eyes. “You’re well overdue for a thorough examination.”

  The coat slips off my arms and I move on top of Archer. His cock is already hard and, even through his boxers, feeling it rub against me almost does me in. I lean forward, breasts in Archer’s face. He lifts his head off the pillow and takes one in his mouth, tongue swirling around my nipple. Groaning, I force myself to pull away, but Archer has other plans.

  He grabs my waist and brings me forward, my pussy in his face. Pushing onto my knees, I grab the headboard, knowing I’ll need it to support myself once Archer gets to work. He turns his head to the side, biting my thigh. Goosebumps break out over my flesh when he gently runs his fingers up over my ass, slow and teasing.

  He knows how wound up I get, and how easily he can turn me on, especially now. And he uses it to his advantage. It drives me crazy, makes me feel like I’m going to explode, but in the end, I come harder than I ever have before, and each time we have sex it makes me realize more and more how much we were made for each other.

  We click. We fit. And I’m not just talking about physically. Though, physically, I don’t think I could find anyone more perfect for me than Archer. He knows how to work his hands. And his tongue. Together, at the same time. He can play my body like an instrument made just for him, and I know, without a doubt, no one else will ever make me feel this way.

  I am in love with Archer Jones.

  The fact that I’m carrying his baby confuses me, I’ll admit it. I want us to be in love. I want to be a couple. To raise our child together and be a family. Am I forcing something that’s not fully there? Archer has been nothing but amazing to me…but is it too soon to say those three words?

  He turns his head in and his tongue lashes against my clit. The fact that I’m currently riding his face might have something to do with me suddenly feeling so in love with him as well.

  “Archer,” I moan, knowing he loves when I say his name during sex. He brings his hands down, squeezing my ass, and eats my pussy with fervor, not stopping until I’m squirming against him. I’m so close to coming, and tingles jolt through my body, bringing every nerve alive. I rock my hips against his face, and his tongue plunges into me. I grip the headboard and arch my back right on the edge of an orgasm.

  Archer quickens his movements, alternating between flicking my clit with his tongue as fast as he can and gently sucking it until I come. He holds me against him, not stopping as the orgasm ripples through me. Everything is so sensitive, almost painful, but he’s relentless as I try to squirm away, not stopping until I come again.

  I fall back onto the bed and I know we were made for each other.

  “Did I pass my exam?” Archer groans, moving on top of me.

  “The first part,” I pant. “This is a…a lengthy process.”

  “Well, speaking of length…” Archer wiggles his hips against mine and I laugh. Looking into his eyes, I run my fingers through his hair. Yep. I’m a goner. I don’t want to come to any conclusions just yet since I’m still naked beneath him and he’s yet to fuck me, but if I’m not actually in love with him, I’m pretty damn close.

  “We should continue the exam.” I bring my mouth to his, kissing him deeply and tasting myself on his lips. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

  “Right. Thank you, doctor.” He moves his lips from mine to my neck. “I know I’m in good hands.”

  I reach down, trying to remove his boxers and he kisses my neck. He moves back just enough to take his boxers off, and once he’s naked, I roll him over and climb on top.

  “Put the lab coat back on.” Archer’s hand lands on my hip. “I want you to wear it while you fuck me.”

  He slaps my ass when I reach over the bed to get it and pull it on, fastening one button.

  “You’re so hot, Quinn.”

  Parting my legs, I move over the top of him and take hold of his big cock. My pussy quivers ever so slightly every time I see it. We’ve had sex many times, and it still amazes me that thing can fit inside me.

  “I’m Dr. Jones today,” I say, trying to be sexy. And then I realize I’m trying to make Archer call me by his own name. “Unless that’s weird. Then I can be Quinn.”

  His eyes meet mine, and behind the lust, I see something else. His lips curve into a smile and he looks down at my hand wrapped around his cock. “It’s not weird to think about you having my last name.”

  My heart skips a beat, and suddenly I can’t get on him fast enough. Archer feels the same and sits up, pushing me back and moving on top. I widen my legs and he enters me, thrusting in hard and fast. His lips find the spot on my neck that always does me in, and it doesn’t take long before I’m close to coming again.

  Archer pushes in balls deep, burying his cock inside me as he comes. He kisses me before he pulls out, and reaches down to the foot of his bed for his boxers, handing them to me to use to clean myself up.

  “Want to take a shower?” he asks, moving my hair out of my face.

  “Yeah,” I say back, still a little breathless, both from sex and from what Archer said. I want to believe with all my heart he’s thinking about marriage and me having his last name because we’re so in love we don’t want to go another day without being husband and wife.

  But I know that’s not true.

  We haven’t even said the L word yet.

  We don’t live together.

  And we’ve only been dating a few weeks.

  I love you, baby, but damn, these hormones are messing with my heart…and my head.

  5

  Quinn

  “I forgot to pack a hairdryer.” I turn to Archer, who’s already dressed and ready two minutes after getting out of the shower. “You don’t have one, do you?”

  “No, but Sam might.”

  “Sam?” I raise an eyebrow.

  “Yeah. He was really into blowouts for a while.”

  “You’re joking.”

  Archer laughs. “I wish I was. Let me go look.” He steps out of the bathroom and I flip my head over, wrapping my towel around my hair. Archer got quiet again while we were in the shower, reminding me of his old hot-and-cold self that used to drive me crazy. Hell, it still drives me crazy.

  This w
hole one-step-forward-and-two-steps-back thing with him makes me question what I was feeling, furthering the proof in my mind that I’m not actually in love with him. He’s the father of my child and being together in a perfect relationship is ideal.

  I can’t rush what’s not there.

  “Found one,” Archer says, coming back into his bathroom.

  “This is a really expensive hairdryer,” I chuckle. “Sam was really into blowouts.” I set it on the counter and put on a bit of makeup before drying my hair. When I turn the dryer off and fluff my hair, I hear Archer on the phone.

  He’s in the living room and looks stressed. The first thing I think is that he has to go into the hospital and our lunch date will be cut short again. I’ll be a little disappointed if that’s true, and a little scared to be here alone again. Sam is working today, but this time if someone knocks at the door, I won’t leave the bedroom.

  I go into Archer’s room and look through my bag. I either overpack or underpack with no middle ground. Since I wasn’t planning on being here today, I’m down to one dress to wear, and it’s more of a date-night dress than a casual lunch-date dress. Oh well. Archer seems to like when I show off my boobs.

  I get dressed and go into the kitchen to get an anti-nausea pill. I still feel guilty taking them, but being sick constantly is really wearing me out. Archer is still on the phone but smiles when he sees me, and my heart speeds up.

  “Okay,” he says to whoever he’s talking to on the phone. “We’ll see you soon.” He hangs up and sits on the couch next to me. “You look pretty, babe.”

  “Thanks.” I lean into him, finding the smell of his cologne irresistible, which is kind of funny since my own perfume makes me want to vomit. “Do you have to go into the hospital?”

  “Not yet,” he says with a smile. He looks away. “You know how you wanted to meet up with my parents?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Want to today?”

  “Uh, sure?” I tip my head, not exactly following.

  “They’re in town. Just got here last night.” He still doesn’t look at me.

  “Oh, that’s great!” Isn’t it? Archer doesn’t seem too thrilled. I know there was a lot of family drama going on while he was in college, but he never seemed to openly hate his parents or anything. “Did they come into town to surprise you or something?”

  His hand lands on the back of his neck. “Or something.” He turns to me, brows pinched together. “Quinn, that guy who shoved the door into you yesterday is my brother.”

  I blink. Did I hear Archer right? “Your brother?”

  “Yeah. Robert. But we, uh, we still call him Bobby.” Archer lets out a breath and closes his eyes in a long blink. “I haven’t seen him in years and I have no idea why he was looking for me. My parents are in town because they are trying to find him. He’d been doing all right for a few months and then relapsed.”

  “Your brother is an addict?”

  “You don’t know?” Archer asks, and I shake my head. “That’s why I stayed with you so much during college.”

  “Because of your brother?” I’m repeating myself, but I’m having a hard time comprehending this.

  “Yes. No one told you why I was there?”

  “My mom said it was because of family drama and never went into it more than that. I just assumed it was about your parents fighting or getting a divorce or something.”

  He leans back, sighing heavily. “My brother caused drama between my parents. But it’s always been him at the root of our issues. Do you remember that first Christmas I spent with you guys?”

  “I do. Jamie and I thought you were so cute and got into a fight over who could try to get you to stand under mistletoe with us.”

  Archer softly laughs. “I actually remember that. Dean was so annoyed with you two.”

  “You knew? We thought we were being very discreet.”

  “Not at all.” He meets my eyes, smiling. “My brother was in Vegas and overdosed. Before he OD’d, though, he stole money from a Salvation Army bucket set up outside a store. My parents had to fly out and deal with him.”

  “Oh my God. I remember Logan and Owen saying something about your brother being in Vegas, and how he was a crazy partier.”

  “He’s been ‘partying’ for the last fifteen years.”

  I move closer to Archer. “I’m so sorry, Archer.”

  “No,” he says, jaw tensing. “I’m sorry.” He gently touches my wrist, which he rewrapped for me once we got out of the shower. “My asshole brother hurt you. He almost hurt our baby. This isn’t fair to you, and I should have been there and—”

  I cut him off with a kiss.

  “Archer, I don’t blame you, and you shouldn’t either.”

  Archer pulls me into his lap, hand resting over my stomach. My skin is a little tender from being bruised, and I felt that weird, tight pulling sensation again after sex. But it went away fast, didn’t come back, and I’m not bleeding or spotting. I guess I’m one of the lucky ones who’s going to feel every growing pain, but hey—I’ll take it as long as the baby is okay.

  “I do blame myself. I had no idea he was coming, but I still feel like I should have warned you. He hurt you, Quinn. That’s not okay.”

  “No, it’s not,” I agree. “But it still isn’t your fault.”

  “Bobby is a selfish asshole who will use and cheat anyone to get money for drugs. You don’t need that in your life. You said you don’t want any more family drama, and that’s all he is. He’s been missing for days and causes nothing but stress for my parents.”

  “Days?”

  “Yeah. He relapsed and left.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask Archer.

  “It’s not an easy thing to bring up.”

  I turn my head down, carefully considering my words. “We’re having a baby together, Archer. There’s going to be a lot of things that aren’t easy.” Watching his face, I debate on whether to go on or not. The words are there, wanting to come out and be confessed. I bring my hand to his chest, rubbing the hem of his collar between my fingers. “Do you remember when I said it felt like you were playing a game with me?”

  “Yeah. Do you still?”

  I shake my head. “No, but I still feel like you don’t really let me in. I don’t know what you’re thinking, and it makes me feel like I’m on the outside. Maybe I’m being dramatic and hormonal or whatever, but I want to feel like you let me in.”

  Brow furrowed, Archer runs his hand through my hair. Then his eyes fall shut and he pulls me into an embrace. “Right now,” he starts. “I’m thinking you’re too good for me.”

  “I am pretty good,” I say with a smile, hugging him back. “But you are too.” Hugging him back, I want him to let the walls down. I’m falling for him and know his hesitation to let me in is holding me back.

  It makes me feel like he doesn’t trust me with his heart.

  “I don’t want you to feel like I’m shutting you out,” he says. “I’ve never had anyone close enough to share this shit with. Besides Dean, I guess.”

  Archer told me he’d rather be with me than be friends with Dean, but it didn’t really hit me until right now just what he was giving up.

  “So junior year, you spent most of the summer with us,” I start. “Your parents were in Florida.”

  He nods. “At a rehab center with Bobby. He lasted a month and a half.” His brows furrow and he looks away. I can see the anger on his face, and I wish I could take it away. I can only imagine what it’d feel like to have one of my brothers go through something like that. I’d be sick with worry and so angry and frustrated.

  “My parents are good people,” Archer says quietly. “They tried, and I still don’t know how Bobby ended up the way he did.”

  “They raised you,” I say. “And I think they did a pretty good job there.”

  He smiles and relaxes just a bit. “Yeah. Is it horrible to admit I wish I could just forget about him? I think part of why I never mentione
d him was because I’d rather pretend he wasn’t there.”

  “No, it’s not horrible. It’s easier to forget and not deal.”

  He nods. “I’m done dealing with his shit. He’s never going to get better.”

  “Maybe he—”

  “No. It’s been fifteen years. He’s been to court-ordered rehab more than once. My parents nearly went broke trying to get him into other private rehab centers. He has a disease where the cure has yet to be found.”

  I run my nails up and down Archer’s arm. I’m sure I’d be just as angry and unwilling to forgive if I grew up with Bobby. I’ve only met him for a total of two minutes and I already don’t like the guy. But he’s Archer’s brother, and I’d never give up on my brothers.

  Fuck, this is complicated.

  “I’m sorry to throw this all on you,” Archer says.

  “You’re not. You’re my boyfriend, and this little gal’s daddy.” I point to my stomach. “Your baggage is my baggage. And mine is yours.”

  Archer runs his hand over my hair. “You don’t have any baggage.”

  “I do,” I insist. “And I’d feel better if I confessed.”

  Archer purses his lips, trying not to laugh. “Should I prepare myself for the skeletons in your closet?”

  “Just don’t judge me.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “I used to be really into competitive robot fighting. Like really into it.”

  Archer looks at me, blinks, and raises an eyebrow. “That’s a real thing?”

  “It is. I’m not a competitive person, but it brought it out in me and I used my personal money to sponsor the team.”

  Archer laughs. “There are teams in robot fighting?”

  “Yeah. It takes a team to build. That’s, uh, how I met Jacob.”

  “Your ex?”

  Wrinkling my nose, I nod.