Marked (Playing Games Book 1)

by Rebecca Barber

  “Fuck!” he groaned as rope after rope of salty cum coated my tongue.

  Easing up, I took everything he had to give before giving him one final lick clean. When I pulled back, I could only imagine the mess I looked like. My lips tingled, my hair would be a mess and my thighs were sticking together. The temptation to reach down and take care of the ache between my legs was almost too much to resist. All it would take was a few flicks and I’d be falling off the cliff into oblivion.

  Without giving me a chance to move, Logan’s huge hands were under my arm pits and he was setting me back on my wobbly feet. He didn’t even bother to pull his pants up. I was the priority. Not even saying a word, his hand snaked around the back of my neck, pulling me to him before kissing me. It was one of those kisses that should only ever happen behind closed doors. His tongue explored my mouth and I was sure he could taste himself. Between us, I felt his dick twitch through the thin fabric of my shirt.

  “You’re incredible,” he murmured as he trailed wet kisses along my neck, using my hair as an anchor to keep me right where he wanted me.

  We stood there, kissing, hands exploring for what seemed like forever. Eventually I needed to take a real breath. One that filled my lungs and lifted the fog I was existing in. Taking hold of his hands, I pried them off my face and took a step back.

  “We need to stop,” I panted.

  “Why?” Logan asked, his eyes dark and hooded.

  “Study. We need to study.” When had conversation become so hard? I was barely able to string together a coherent sentence. I was blaming my lack of orgasm. Even though I knew if I let him, Logan would take care of that issue without hesitating.

  Bending down, he pulled up his pants, stuffing his half-hard cock back in his boxer briefs, his eyes never once leaving mine. For some reason, I found it just as sexy to watch him put his pants back on as it was to yank them off him. When he was dressed, he stalked towards me. I was a fly caught in his web; the only difference is I didn’t want to go anywhere.

  “Your turn.”

  Honestly, from the tone of his voice and the way he was looking at me, he could read me the phone book right now and that would be all it would take to push me over the edge. When his arms reached out and clamped down on my hips, he tilted his head ready to dive in for a kiss, but with the strength of a goddess, I turned my head and dodged him.

  “You should go shower and we can go.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “You sure?”

  “Yep,” I said popping the ‘p’. “The sooner we get these assignments out of the way…”

  Taking a few paces into my personal space, he crowded me against the wall. I wasn’t going anywhere unless he decided I was. And that didn’t look likely any time soon. “The sooner I can study you?”

  His comment went straight to my core and I shivered at the thought. But there was one thing he hadn’t been counting on. My sheer stubbornness. If he was testing it, he was going to lose. Pushing up on my toes, I kept my mouth barely millimetres from his. “In. Excruciating. Detail,” I promised before kissing him lightly and ducking under his arms, escaping the trap.

  I watched as he spun around, his pants tented and his face tormented. “I’m holding you to that.”

  “Well, then. The quicker you shower and change, the quicker we can get on with the rest of the day.”

  “I guess it’d be pointless to ask you to join me. Help me wash my back?”

  Damn it! I couldn’t work out what was harder to resist. Playful Logan. Lustful Logan. Or Commanding Logan.

  ***

  The only words spoken on the drive to my place were me giving directions. Right here. Left up ahead. Change lanes. Speed camera ahead. It was all I could do to stop myself from throwing myself out the window. Logan was coming to my place. Logan Oliver was coming to my place. I was trying to remember how bad the mess was in my living room. Or worse, the bedroom. When was the last time I changed my sheets? Was there underwear, dirty or otherwise dangling over the back of the couch or on the floor? Was there any food in the fridge? Did I take the trash out? Is the bathroom clean enough for company?

  With every kilometre that we passed, the urge to puke got more intense. Cracking the window, I let the cold breeze blow in, cooling my heated cheeks.

  “What are you thinking so deeply about over there?” Logan’s words shocked me out of my panic.

  “Nothing.”

  “You know you’re not a very good liar, Natasha.”

  Turning in my seat, I turned to face him. “What’s with the Natasha, Tasha, Tash?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You keep changing what you call me. It’s like you can’t decide.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Not a problem. I’m just, I don’t even know…confused. Up the block here, on the left. Wherever you can find a park.”

  As Logan tried to manoeuvre his beast of a car, I wondered why someone drove such a big car in the city. I’d think he was overcompensating for something if I didn’t know better. Thankfully, I did know better.

  “Are you getting out?” I hadn’t even realised he’d come to a stop, climbed out and was already waiting at my door.

  “Ah, shit. Yeah.”

  Sliding out, I started towards the elevator hoping it didn’t smell like last night’s curry as I dug through my bag looking for my keys. Up until now, Logan had been attracted to me. That was undeniable. The way he looked at me, the way he touched me, the way he fucked me seven ways to Sunday – all of it gave away the truth. I just hadn’t determined yet whether it was anything more than a physical attraction. Guess I was about to find out.

  By the time we made it to the front door, my hands were as sticky as my thighs. Cracking the door open barely wide enough to stick my head through the gap, I checked if it was inhabitable. Above my head, a hand wrapped around the door frame and forced it open.

  “Get that sexy arse inside,” he said with a swift slap on my butt.

  With no other choice, I stepped inside and saw the mess I’d left. Magazines and newspapers covered the coffee table. The blanket I’d curled up under last night was rumpled on the couch and my pink fuzzy slippers were on the floor beside it. The armchair didn’t match but you could barely see it under the mountain of clothes piled there. The only thing I could be thankful for was at least the clothes were clean. Then there was the kitchen. It didn’t do a thing to help hide how sad and pathetic my life was either. The empty bottle of wine sat abandoned next to a glass; a chocolate wrapper lay abandoned along with what was left of the bag of chips. Then there was the dining table. With its four mismatched chairs, it was buried under notebooks, textbooks, my laptop and empty glasses. Until now, I hadn’t thought I was that sloppy and disgusting but now, seeing it through Logan’s eyes, I was questioning everything I thought I knew.

  “That couch looks comfy,” he said, breaking the awkward silence.

  “It is.”

  “So, where are we working?”

  It was taking everything I had not to propose. He was glossing over all my faults and getting straight to the point. “Dining table work for you?”

  “Sure.”

  Racing towards the table, I scooped up a pile of my junk and set it on one of the seats, clearing some space for Logan. When I spied my notebook, one of which was open and filled with player and game stats, I slammed it shut and stuffed it under my laptop. I looked like a complete crazy person.

  Ignoring everything else, Logan started unpacking his backpack – yep, the man had a backpack and somehow, he managed to make even that look hot. By the time he pulled out his books, I found myself wondering just how strong he was. Those books were like bricks. Thick and intimidating.

  “I never asked, what exactly are you studying?”

  “Um…” he stumbled over his words.

  “Come on. This book is, ah, ‘Fundamentals of Aerodynamics’. And this one, it hurts my wrist just lifting it. Come on, surely, you’re not reading �
�Mechanics and Thermodynamics of Propulsion’ for fun. You know I’m studying journalism.”

  Digging into his backpack, he pulled out his glasses case and slipped them on, and I forgot what I’d been talking about. The black-rimmed glasses did something to me that they definitely shouldn’t.

  “Aeronautical Engineering.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m studying Aeronautical Engineering. But because of football I can only do it part time so it’s taking forever.”

  “Then why are you doing it?”

  He scratched his head and looked at me thoughtfully. “You know, I think you may be the only person who’s ever asked me that before.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” Flipping open his notebook and textbook, he stared at the pages in front of him before he started scribbling down illegible notes.

  Logan Oliver was a complete mystery. How the hell was I supposed to sit here and work on this assignment when the man sitting across from me had me more than a little confused? He was hot, smart and a genuinely nice guy. In my twenty-four years of experience, finding a guy like that was about as common as finding a unicorn.

  Trying to ignore everything else, I turned on my laptop and got to work. My course was kicking my arse at the moment, but it was my own fault. Stuffing my ear buds in my ears, I loaded up the last lecture and tried to focus. It wasn’t easy, and a couple of times I was forced to rewind and re-watch. Forty-five minutes and eight pages of notes later, I think I had half an idea on what I had to write about.

  After checking my email, finding instructions from Gerard for my next column, I quickly closed the screen, not wanting to be caught. Standing up, I headed to the fridge and grabbed a couple of bottles of water.

  “Here you go,” I interrupted his quiet studying and handed him a bottle.

  “Thanks.”

  While I’d been watching my lecture, out of the corner of my eye I’d been watching him. From the way he silently argued with himself, to the way he chewed on the end of his pencil before the answer came to him like a bullet from the gun shooting him right between the eyes.

  Unable to keep working, I headed into the kitchen and started cleaning up. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” I answered quickly.

  “Are you cleaning up?”

  “Just tidying,” I couldn’t really deny it.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you cleaning up? I hope it’s not on my account.”

  “No. I’m brainstorming.”

  “And to brainstorm, you clean?”

  This right here is why I studied better alone. People questioning my process. I’d walk around like a complete idiot, often eating ice-cream straight from the carton, dancing around in my underwear trying to figure out what it was I wanted to say.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  LOGAN

  “You’re adorable.” I couldn’t help myself.

  Tasha looked like she was about to crawl out of her skin. From the moment I’d pushed her through her front door, she hadn’t been able to sit still. It was like she had ants in her pants. She was fidgety, off balance and so freaking adorable I couldn’t help but torment her. There was something bugging her, though. It meant that instead of concentrating on the books in front of me, the ones I should be reading and making notes on, I was sitting here dreaming up ways to annoy her.

  “I am not adorable,” she protested, crossing her arms over her chest which only perked up those boobs I’d become so enamoured with. Tash must have noticed the lack of eye contact I was sending in her direction. Coming right over to me, she started clicking her fingers right in my face. “Hey, Romeo! My eyes are up here.” Yep, I had definitely been busted.

  “Sorry.” I mumbled my half-hearted apology, dropping the pen and reaching out for her.

  When my fingers found the hem of her skirt, I dragged her into my lap, chuckling as she wobbled before landing on top of me. Right where I wanted her.

  But Tash wouldn’t be Tash if she didn’t give me a mouthful of sass back. “You’re not sorry. You’re not even pretending to be sorry.”

  “I said it, so it counts.”

  “Is that the angle you’re taking?”

  “Yep,” I replied, popping the ‘p’ as her arms wound themselves around my neck and she tugged at the hair on the back of my neck, tilting my head so I was staring straight up at her. With an unexpected moan, I shifted in the chair beneath her. Hell, the way she was sitting there was no way she could miss it.

  Without saying a word, mischief filled her eyes as she ground down on me, making the situation, making me, even harder.

  “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” I warned, my voice thick with want.

  “Who said I’m not going to finish it?” Tash practically purred in my ear as she nipped my earlobe, breaking whatever little control I had left.

  Flipping her around, her back pressed against my chest, I took over. I was all about letting her have her fun, but I didn’t have the willpower to let her take her time. I was wound up and ready to explode. Widening my knees, hers parted with mine, her skirt riding up around her waist as I palmed her magnificent tits in my hand. They were the perfect handful. Not only were they perky and firm and exactly the right size, but the way Tash responded when I pinched her nipples, the erotic moan, the desperate pleading and the way her back arched pushing her boobs further into my hand was hypnotising.

  “Logan…I want…I need…”

  “What do you need?” I growled against the soft, creamy bare skin on her shoulder.

  “More.”

  “More of what?” I asked, teasing her. I knew exactly what she wanted. What she needed. From the way she was pressing down against me, practically riding my thighs, desperately searching for the friction she needed to send her hurtling over the edge, it was pretty damn obvious what she wanted.

  “More…” she shuddered as I nipped at her neck.

  Letting go of one of her breasts, I trailed my hand slowly down the centre of her chest, pausing when I got to the edge of her skirt to give her a chance to say no before I worked my way under it. Instead, Tash just kept on being Tash and surprising me. Turning her head, she covered my mouth with hers and kissed the ever-loving shit out of me. Damn this girl could kiss. As her tongue duelled with mine, fighting for control, I snuck my hand down into her underwear.

  Pulling back, breathless, I panted, “You’re drenched,” as I stroked up and down her swollen lips.

  “You like?”

  “I fucking love!” I returned as I plunged two fingers deep inside her in the same moment I attacked her mouth.

  She was so hot and wet I almost bust a nut.

  Breaking our kiss, Tasha’s hips took over as she rode my hand. Fuck she looked hot. With her head tossed back, eyes closed, flushed cheeks and mouth open in that perfect O, she was a wet dream come to life.

  “Logan! Logan, I’m going to…” She didn’t even get to finish her sentence before her walls clamped down on my fingers and my hand was flooded with her orgasm.

  Not one to let her have all the fun, slowly I pulled my fingers out only to keep petting her, loving the way she squirmed every time my thumb brushed over her pulsating clit.

  Dropping her head back against my shoulder, Tash let out a satisfied sigh before her heavy eyelids fluttered open, revealing that glazed-over look. Damn this chick wore the freshly fucked look well. Reaching down, she grabbed hold of my wrist, stopping me where I was.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, slightly concerned.

  “Can’t. Take. Anymore,” she panted.

  With one final flick of her clit, earning me a full body shiver, I pulled my fingers away before lifting them to my mouth and licking them clean, not missing the hiss of breath from Tash as she watched me feast on her. Fuck me she was delicious.

  Savouring Tash was definitely no hardship but when I felt her lift off me, my eyes sprung open.

  Not giving
me a chance to say anything, Tash met my heated gaze and said, “my turn,” as she sank to her knees in front of me. Using her voodoo witchcraft magic, she had my pants around my ankles, and my dick in her hand as she licked the bead of precum from my angry purple tip.

  “Shit yeah!” I murmured as I watched my cock disappear down her throat and my hand wove its way into her hair.

  She licked and sucked and fondled like a pro and it was an embarrassingly short time later I was exploding down her throat. After licking me clean, she rocked back on her heels looking mightily impressed with herself. Not that I could blame her. She sucked cock like a champ.

  Even though I’d just blown my load, even though my legs felt like jelly and I was still seeing stars, the one thing I was sure of was that I hadn’t had enough. Not nearly enough. Toeing off my shoes, I stood and kicked away my pants before tugging my shirt over my head.

  Standing there, towering over Tasha who was still kneeling before me, my dick twitched, already coming back to life and preparing for round two. Her lips were swollen, and her chest heaved with her deep breaths as she stared up at me in what I could only believe was a challenge.

  Without a word, I bent down and picked her up by the armpits. “You have a choice. Bedroom, couch or kitchen counter.”

  “For what?” she sassed, batting her eyelids.

  “For me to fuck you seven ways to Sunday.”

  “Is that so?”

  She’d missed her chance. I’d tried to be a gentleman and give her the choice, but she didn’t want to play along. Now it was my call. Tossing her over my shoulder, I wasn’t surprised when her palm smacked my bare arse with a loud thwack. “You won’t be so smug when I’m finished with you.”

  “Promises, promises,” she giggled as I started walking towards the dark hallway determined to find a bed. To do all the things I was imagining, I needed her spread out in front of me.