The Player's Game

by Alice Gaines

  “I’d only make you wetter.”

  “Mmmm.” She’d exaggerated the moisture in her panties a bit for effect, but the combination of touching herself and imagining having his hardness inside her was making her hot, and her fingers were growing damp. Now she could watch him stroking himself while she toyed with her own sex. Too delicious. Time for her next plan of action.

  After turning, she bent and slid her panties over her hips and down her legs. That would give him a clear view of her naked ass. She even shook it for him and got a groan in response.

  “I can see your lips,” he said, and he didn’t mean the ones on her face. That, finally, made her cheeks heat, but no one was here to notice her behavior or his reaction to it. But she’d spent enough time with her ass up in the air, so she straightened and turned around.

  She could study that beautiful hardness and picture it sliding into her as she finished her little striptease for him. She wasn’t going to remove anything else, so the act had pretty much ended. But to make sure she kept his interest, she put her hands over her breasts and pushed them together. That created friction against the nipples. If she went over to him, he’d caress them as he moved against her.

  She took the few steps to the chair slowly and straddled him. Grasping his shaft, she brought the tip to her nether lips and lowered herself onto him.

  Gritting his teeth, he took her hips in his big hands and held her where she was. As if she’d run away from something that felt so good. Her bones felt pliant, melting from the pure pleasure of having him again.

  When he began to move, he used small thrusts, probably all their posture on the chair allowed. But he was so deep inside her—buried to the hilt—she wouldn’t need anything more to come. Rolling her hips backward and forward created friction against her hot button, and he filled her so completely.

  If she’d worried about her breasts being neglected, she could have saved herself the trouble. He palmed them and squeezed. Her nipples hardened and grew sensitive, and she closed her eyes to concentrate on all the many ways he could excite her. Because the bra was strapless, he was able to lift her breasts from the cups, and he ducked his head to take a peak into his mouth. It felt like another little slice of heaven, and she continued riding him while he repeated the process with the other breast.

  After a bit, he released the nipple and put his face next to hers, his hips still pumping. “Ah, Katy, what you do to me.”

  Again, like an endearment. During the divorce, he’d often referred to her as Ms. McCord or simply “Plaintiff.” “Katy” was for moments like these or lazy afternoons they’d spent curled up on the couch. Maybe she should have made time for more of those afternoons.

  “I have an idea,” he said. “Why don’t you get up and turn around?”

  “Get up?” she repeated. Surely, they’d gone too far for him to stare at her ass some more.

  “Trust me.”

  She climbed off him, losing the incredible sensations of him inside her. But when she turned around, he put his hands on her hips again. “Now, back onto me.”

  Now, that made sense. She wrapped her fingers around him, again placing him where he could enter her. If anything, he felt bigger as her body accepted his bulk this time, and she paused where she was to see what he’d do next.

  His hands went around her, one landing on her breast while the other went over her belly to her sex. From there, he could reach the center of her desire, and he flicked a finger over it.

  Unbelievable. He set all her nerves on fire while his shaft stretched her inner muscles.

  “That better?” he whispered into her ear, his breath hot and teasing.

  “Oh, Grant.” She couldn’t manage any more, with his fingers working their magic on her most sensitive flesh. He’d give her a powerful orgasm this way, making up for months of doing without. Only what would she do when she only had memories of the skill of his fingers and the steel of his sex inside hers? She’d have to worry about that later, because her higher brain function was wavering.

  “You gonna climax?” he asked, his voice thick with lust.

  “God, yes. Yesssss.”

  He chuckled. “Good, because I’m not going to last forever.”

  He’d last. He always did. But he wouldn’t have to wait long. Now he was rolling her clit the way she liked best as the tension built inside. She held perfectly still, taking and taking. Feeling like this, she could only concentrate on her own arousal. She got closer and closer to the breaking point while his finger continued to rub and his hardness thrust up into her.

  In the end, the orgasm claimed her, squeezing the breath out of her and then bursting into dazzling light and stars. She called out his name as her muscles went wild around him, powerful and fierce.

  His climax followed, and she swore she could sense the pulsing of his sex as it released his pent-up lust into her. They shared the ultimate satisfaction for long seconds, and then she slumped against him.

  “I guess that’ll make your birthday memorable,” he said. “It sure was for me.”

  Was. It had ended now. And she’d have to get up, put on her clothes, and go back to her room. What remained of her breakfast would have cooled to a greasy mess of eggs and lukewarm coffee.

  “Thanks,” she said as she climbed off him and rearranged her bra.

  “You leaving today?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I have about an hour until the shuttle takes me to the airport.”

  “Have a good trip back.”

  Did he sound disappointed? If she’d been staying longer, would they have spent the time together?

  She found her panties and put them back on. She’d find her dress in the living room. It probably wouldn’t be too wrinkled when she put it on, so she could get through the hotel corridor and down in the elevator on her way to her room without looking as if she’d just spent the night doing exactly what she had been doing. A hook-up. Booty call. One-night stand. All the terms for casual sex from decades past.

  Only, could it truly be casual with a man she’d once vowed to stay with until death did them part? Right about now, he was reminding her of all the good things about their marriage. And she was definitely not sticking around for that. They had no chance of finding their way back to each other. If they tried, they’d only run up against the same obstacles that had ruined their marriage in the first place.

  She had her own life now. A few friends. Mostly her work—something that might eventually make her father proud of her. Maybe someday she’d meet a man who could mesh his life with hers. Unfortunately, that man wasn’t Grant, no matter how much she’d loved him.

  She bent and kissed him, no more than a peck on his lips. “Thanks, Grant.”

  “It’s the least I could do after running your date off.”

  “And your own.” She straightened. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

  “You, too.”

  She went into the living room, found her dress, and got into it. Tightening the belt of his robe, Grant followed her. “And don’t go pounding on hotel room doors again. You don’t know who you’ll find.”

  She smiled. There he was, trying to protect her again. She hesitated with her hand on the doorknob. “Duly noted.”

  With that, she let herself out and headed down the hallway toward the elevator. It was over. But now she’d have another set of memories to haunt her at night.

  …

  Grant found the other two Players in the hotel dining room. He’d hardly eaten a scrap of breakfast before Katy had seduced him, so protein with a side of pancakes seemed like a fabulous idea. He’d loaded his plate from the buffet table and joined his friends, then, after a brief greeting, he started shoveling food into his mouth.

  Ryan gave him an evil grin. He’d let his reddish hair grow a bit long, but it was always cut professionally for his TV job. That and his smile with the
dimple at the corner made him a favorite with all the ladies. “Someone got a workout last night.”

  “You might say that,” Grant mumbled as he continued eating.

  Adam smiled at Grant over the rim of his coffee cup. With his dark hair and darker eyes, he also made female heads snap around when he entered a room. “Was Sandy everything you hoped she would be?”

  “Why do you care?” Grant said. “You’re a married man now.”

  “It’s still fun to keep up with my friend’s exploits,” Adam said.

  “I’m not married, and I spent the night alone,” Ryan said. “I want to hear every detail.”

  Grant wiped his mouth with his napkin. “We never tell each other the details.”

  “Yeah, but the gist of it. And if she’s really hot, does she have any friends?” Ryan said.

  Grant held up his cup. “Pour me some coffee out of that carafe, will you?”

  Adam got that penetrating gaze on his face. The guy was a hugely successful businessman and could read people pretty accurately. He was doing it right now with Grant.

  “Why do I get the feeling something’s going on here?” Adam said.

  “I wasn’t with Sandy last night,” Grant said. “Okay?”

  “So, you struck out,” Adam said. “Happens to all of us.”

  “I did not strike out,” Grant said.

  Now, both of them were staring at him.

  “Defensive,” Ryan said.

  Ah, crap. He’d made himself look guilty as hell. Why did he have to be such a bad liar? These two were as close to him as brothers. They talked about everything. They’d gotten him through the divorce with some of his sanity intact. So what if he and Katy had backslid? It wasn’t the end of the world.

  “I wasn’t with Sandy last night,” he said finally. “I was with Katy.”

  “Your wife?” the two of them said in unison.

  “Ex-wife,” Grant said.

  “Let me get this straight,” Ryan said. “You were with Katy, but were you with her?”

  “Definitely with her. On the same page. Singing harmony. Last night and this morning.” Grant went back to stuffing his face with pancakes.

  Adam whistled softly between his teeth. “This is going to take some thought.”

  “No thought. No nothing,” Grant said. “Let it drop.”

  “You guys were married for a long time,” Adam said.

  “Almost right out of college.” He remembered her father pitching a fit that she wanted to get married at nineteen. So they’d waited two years to see if the guy would change his mind and be happy she was hitching herself to someone who might end up a real success at pro football. No such luck. “Eight years all together, if you count the year we were separated.”

  “And lovers before that,” Adam said. Ryan just looked on with what looked like concern.

  “From her sophomore year.” Thirteen years together, the early ones blissful. He could still hardly believe they’d broken up.

  “That’s a lot of history to get over,” Ryan said.

  “No history, no nothing.” They’d been through all this with him once. They didn’t have to do it again. “She left this morning. End of story.”

  Except she’d rekindled a lot of old feelings, including the ones she hated the most.

  Protect and provide. He’d done those things since he was a little kid, when the most he could manage was mowing lawns to provide and standing up to his bastard of a father to protect. Neither had been effective, but he’d gotten better over the years. He provided for his mother now with his salary from the NFL, and he’d grown big enough and tough enough to beat back any bully he encountered. The trouble was, whenever he’d tried to do that for the woman he’d loved, she’d insisted she could take care of herself.

  “You’re sure you won’t be seeing her again?” Adam said.

  “Positive. She’ll go back to her seventy-hour work weeks at the law firm, and I’ll go back to football.”

  “You both live in Manhattan. It’s not that big a place,” Ryan said.

  Didn’t he know that? After the divorce, he’d made a mental list of her favorite restaurants, where she liked to shop, etc. He still avoided those places, and he’d continue to do so.

  “No matter what happens, we’re here for you,” Adam said.

  “You bet,” Ryan added.

  Grant put his fork down and pushed his plate away. Another breakfast unfinished. “Thanks.”

  Ryan turned to Adam. “Speaking of wives, where’s yours?”

  Adam sipped his coffee, a big smile on his face. “Waiting for me.”

  “Where?” Ryan asked. “At the airport.”

  Adam’s smile widened. “There are private cabins on the island. We spent time in one of them falling in love again. We’ll have our honeymoon there.”

  “Man, everyone’s getting laid but me.” Ryan didn’t seem all that bummed by the statement, though. He seemed to be enjoying Adam’s happiness and Grant’s embarrassment.

  “You’ll fix that,” Adam said.

  “So why are you hanging around with us if Nicole’s waiting for you?” Grant asked.

  “I wanted to say goodbye to you bozos. It’ll be weeks before we can have our regular meet-up at the gym.”

  Yeah, honeymoons. Adam had the happiest weeks of his life ahead of him. Both he and his wife would spend time working because they both owned hotel businesses. In fact, this amazing resort belonged to Nicole. But they’d devote the rest of their hours together to lots of great sex and love. Maybe their marriage would last forever.

  Grant glanced at his watch. Katy’s shuttle would be arriving in a few minutes. She might come in here to get a cup of coffee to go, or he might spot her waiting in the lobby only a few feet away.

  He rose. “I have a bit more packing to do. Want to share a ride to the airport, Ryan?”

  “Sure thing. See you here in the lobby in half an hour.”

  “Thirty minutes,” Grant answered as he turned to leave. Operation Avoid Katy started now.

  …

  The words on the paper had started swimming before Katy’s eyes. She had the equivalent of three legal proceedings opened on her desktop computer while she worked on her current assignment on her laptop. She rubbed her eyes, and her fingertips came away splotched with mascara. Great. She’d look like a raccoon. With any luck, she could escape to the ladies’ room and remove all her makeup before anyone saw her.

  This case was a dog—a real loser. One of their richest and most famous clients, George Winthrop, had engaged in some pretty iffy investment maneuvers, and the Securities and Exchange Commission was on his ass. Her “prize” assignment? Save said ass. Legal hocus-pocus. It wasn’t exactly unethical, but it was shady enough to make her wonder if she’d spent all that time and Grant’s money on law school for this. Still, she’d been lucky to get the assignment. Taking care of one of the firm’s best-paying customers would help her in her climb to make partner.

  She absolutely should not turn on the video she’d made of one of Grant’s games the year they’d divorced. At the time, she’d told herself she’d have to get used to seeing him on television, but total honesty forced her to admit she’d done it so she could still look at him. In private, where no one would know.

  She had much better things to do, especially on the firm’s time. But she turned it on, anyway. The first few minutes showed him during play—his incredible body enhanced with the tight pants and the pads. He moved with such authority and grace. What a gorgeous man he was.

  Then came the interview at the end of the game. He’d taken off his helmet, and she could study his face. His team had won the game, largely because of his leadership, but there was still a sadness around his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t been sleeping well. She hadn’t since the divorce.

  She hadn’t watched this vid
eo for months, but there was no secret why she was doing it now. The night they’d spent together at Savvy ran though her head. It had been almost two weeks now. She’d managed to school her mind…almost…but her body still held memories of the encounter, not all of them sexual. Falling asleep in his arms. Awaking to the mussed pillow next to hers and knowing by the trace of his personal scent there that he’d slept next to her.

  Her cell phone rang, and she glanced down at it. Her father. She quickly turned off the video before answering. He didn’t need to know she was mooning over “the football player,” as he’d called Grant.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Honey. How are things going?”

  Aside from the fact she’d been given the firm’s worst case to work on—something her team absolutely could not win—and the fact she couldn’t get her ex-husband out of her mind or her dreams, not bad. “Great. How’s Mom? Nothing wrong, I hope.”

  “Does there have to be anything wrong for me to call my little girl?”

  Of course, not. But in reality, her dad never called to chitchat. Mom took care of the “emotional stuff,” as her father put it. Keeping track of birthdays and anniversaries. Arranging holiday get-togethers.

  “How are things going at the firm?” he asked. “You settling in well?

  What did he expect? She was a young woman in an old established firm without a single female senior partner. And the colleagues at her level resembled a school of sharks. Ivy League, every one of them, and boy, did they flaunt it. “The partners have been very kind.”

  “It doesn’t matter if they’re kind to you, Katy. They need to respect you.” Bless Dad. He was only trying, in his own way, to mentor her. As Robert T. Rose, Professor of Philosophy at Cardmouth University, her father knew all the ins and outs of getting to the top in a competitive field. But the world of academia wasn’t the same thing as a law firm. “I’ll remember that, Dad.”

  Her father hesitated for a moment, obviously about to launch into whatever was bothering him enough to make a phone call during the work day.

  “You’re not getting back together with the football player, are you?” he asked finally.