The Dating Games Series Volume One

by T. K. Leigh

  Finally, the bottle rolls past me and lands on Izzy. She gives him a flirtatious smile. They’ve had to do a few risqué things over the course of the evening, like sucking on an ear or biting a neck, but nothing more than that.

  “Well then…,” he begins smoothly, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips as he looks her up and down. “I suppose it’s time we finally kiss.”

  His statement momentarily surprises me. I’m not sure what I thought. I guess I assumed they already had.

  “Unless—”

  Before he can say another word, she clutches his cheeks. “I suppose it is.” She lowers her back onto the couch, bringing him on top of her.

  “I suppose it is,” he repeats, brushing his mouth against hers, nipping on her lower lip.

  “The dice says kiss my lips, not bite them.”

  “I know, but I’ve imagined this for years now. I need to take advantage of it while I can, while we’re still in the bubble.”

  Izzy tenses below him. “Years?”

  Asher nods, rubbing his nose against hers. “Yes, Iz. Years.”

  All the tension seems to roll off her as she hooks a leg around his waist, yanking him even tighter against her.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  Their kiss starts out simple and innocent, just a light meeting of mouths. But it doesn’t take long for it to become more intense, more heated, more…greedy.

  A finger trails down my neck as I watch them, feeling like a voyeur, but I can’t look away. When Lincoln brushes my hair behind my shoulder, exposing my skin, I crane my head, silently giving him permission to keep touching me. His soft lips feathering against me causes a shiver to roll through me.

  “I don’t recall you rolling the dice,” I whisper.

  I feel his mouth curve into a smile. “It’ll be our little secret.” He brings his hand to my leg, brushing up and down my thigh.

  “Our little secret,” I repeat.

  Glancing across the table to see Asher and Izzy still going at it, oblivious to the world around them, I part my legs, an open invitation for Lincoln to continue.

  His teeth clamp onto my neck and I struggle not to yelp. His hand inches higher and higher, my chest rising and falling in a quicker rhythm. When his fingers ghost against my center, sparks shoot through me. I really wish I hadn’t changed into jeans. If I still had on my bathing suit, this would be even more erotic, if that’s possible.

  “I want you,” he says gruffly.

  I swallow hard, biting back my moan.

  “Do you want me?”

  “Yes…,” I whimper.

  He steals a glimpse to make sure Izzy and Asher are still occupied, which they are. “Here’s what I want you to do. When the two lovebirds break away, you’re going to excuse yourself. Say you’re tired. I’m sure they’ll want to have some privacy themselves. Once they head up, I’ll come to you. Okay?”

  I stare straight ahead as Izzy and Asher’s passionate exchange wanes, their kiss slowly coming to an end.

  Lincoln squeezes my thigh.“Okay?” he asks again, more forceful.

  “Okay,” I answer in a breathy voice.

  “Okay,” he repeats, removing his hand from me, increasing the distance between us.

  A giggle bursts through, and I glance up to see Asher helping a rather flushed Izzy back into a sitting position.

  “Well, that was unexpected.”

  “Hopefully in a good way.” He wraps his arm around her, pulling her close.

  “In an amazing way.” She beams, fanning herself. “Now, I believe it’s Lincoln’s turn. Or is it Chloe’s?”

  “Actually…” I stand up. “I hate to be the one to put an end to game night, but I’m beat. It’s been a long day. And tomorrow will be another long one with heading home, provided the power comes back on.”

  Izzy pouts playfully. “Always the responsible one, aren’t you?”

  “Always.”

  Her expression brightens. “It’s okay. I’ll probably be going to bed soon myself.”

  “Alone?” I lift a brow.

  She bites her lower lip, flicking a mischievous grin to Asher as she squeezes his thigh. “Only time will tell.”

  After saying my goodbyes to Asher, thanking him once more for allowing us to crash here, I start to head inside.

  “Let me walk you,” Lincoln offers, surprising me. This certainly was not part of the plan.

  “I’ll be fine,” I insist.

  “I’m sure you will, but I’d feel better if I walked with you.” The tone of his voice makes it clear that this isn’t up for debate. I actually like the idea of him walking me to my room. I’ve never been with someone who so much as walked me to my Uber or the subway station after a date. Hell, a lot of them couldn’t even be asked to get out of bed to walk me to the door of their apartment.

  “Okay,” I say.

  “Okay.” He places his hand on the small of my back, shining the flashlight of his cell in front of us, illuminating our path.

  Once we reach my room, I turn to him, about to thank him, when he advances toward me, pressing me against the wall, his mouth covering mine. Momentarily caught breathless by his sudden invasion, I still. But the shock eventually wanes and I melt into him, grasping his face, needing more of him.

  Lincoln tears his lips from mine, growling like an animal starved for too long. “You’re incredible, Chloe.”

  Throwing my head back, I revel in his unshaven jaw scratching against the flesh of my neck. I scrape my nails down his back, wrapping a leg around him, pulsing against him as he nips at my shoulder. Our heavy and labored breaths fill the silence, every synapse in my body firing.

  His hand roams my frame, his touch needy and reckless. As he reaches my waistband, I inhale a sharp breath, my core clenching when he unbuttons my jeans.

  He kisses a hot trail along my collarbone, inching his way back up my neck. His fingers swipe a line along my stomach, teasing me. Finally, he lowers the zipper and brushes the top of my panties. My muscles tighten in anticipation. He bites my earlobe, tugging at it. A bolt of need shoots through me as I struggle to maintain my composure.

  “Keep going,” I murmur, a slave to his touch. “Don’t stop.”

  Growling, his teeth bite down harder as he sweeps a finger under the line of my panties.

  “Do you feel what you do to me?” He subtly thrusts against me.

  “Yes,” I moan, my eyes rolling into the back of my head. “Yes.”

  He inches his hand farther south, my muscles tightening as he nears the spot I need him to touch. When he finds my center, I sigh. “And I can certainly feel what I do to you.”

  I bring his lips back to mine, my tongue plunging in his mouth, fireworks erupting in my core. Finally, he pushes a finger inside and I relax, bliss filling me.

  “You’re so wet. So tight. So fucking sweet.”

  “Just wait till you get a taste. You’ll never want another pussy again.”

  “Is that right?” He arches a brow, his expression playful as he continues stretching me.

  “That’s right,” I exhale as I move with his motions. “God, that’s so right.” I grab his head again, bringing his mouth to within a whisper of mine, my breathing becoming more erratic with each push, each thrust, each drive. My teeth chatter, my entire body trembling, close to unraveling.

  Instantly, he pulls his hand away, releasing his hold on me. I fling my eyes open, staring at him incredulously, a panting bundle of hormones.

  “What are you—”

  “Suck,” he demands, interrupting me, touching a finger to my lips.

  My eyes remaining glued to his, I slowly open my mouth, swiping my tongue against the tip of his finger. The contact is subtle, barely there. But the way his pupils dilate tells me he’s on edge, that he needs more, that he’s been fantasizing about this as much as I have.

  With a a moan, I wrap my lips around his finger, sucking every last drop of me off his flesh, giving each of his fingers the same treatment.<
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  “Tell me how you taste.”

  Flirtatiously batting my lashes, I pass him a demure look. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” I force his lips against mine. The second our tongues touch, he groans. He tastes of need, of want, of unmatched desperation.

  Too soon, he tears away, chest heaving, eyes dark. “Go. Get in your room. I’ll be with you shortly.”

  Before I can do or say anything else, he spins around, heading toward the stairs with determined strides, leaving me a quivering mess.

  “Oh, and Chloe?”

  I meet his heated stare. “Yes?”

  “You’d better not even think about getting yourself off while you wait for me. Tonight, I own you.” His voice becomes deeper, more demanding. The hairs on my nape rise. “And that includes all your orgasms. Do you understand?”

  I swallow hard. No man has ever spoken to me this way, so brazen, so confident, so…hot. There’s only one way to answer him.

  “Yes, Lincoln,” I respond in a sultry voice as I walk the few feet toward where he stands at the top of the staircase. “I completely understand.” When I reach him, I stand on my tiptoes, skimming my lips along his neck. “Hurry back.”

  I remain motionless for several protracted moments, my breath warming his skin. His chest rises and falls quicker, and I notice him clench and unclench his fists. I can’t help but grin at how much he wants me. Then I lower my heels to the floor and turn, walking into my darkened room and closing the door behind me without a single look back.

  Game night really is a lot of fun.

  Chapter Ten

  I’ve officially worn a path in the lush carpet.

  I thought Lincoln would only be a few minutes, especially once I heard Izzy come upstairs. I took a lukewarm shower, needing the tepid water to dull the flames building inside me. I figured he wouldn’t be much longer once I got out, considering how needy he seemed.

  But as I pace in front of the window overlooking the patio, I can still make out the gentle sound of Asher and Lincoln each strumming a guitar. As if Lincoln weren’t delicious enough, he has to play the guitar, too. My ovaries all but exploded when I peered down into the yard and saw how effortless he made it look. Yet another piece of the Lincoln Moore puzzle.

  Finally, the music stops, as does my pacing, my libido perking up. Any other time, I’d be upset over that, but not tonight. Not when that means Lincoln’s that much closer to knocking on my door. If he’s even planning on doing that. I wouldn’t be surprised if he simply barges in.

  I walk up to the window, doing my best to remain out of view so neither one of them realize I’ve been snooping. I strain to listen for the telltale sound of the French doors closing. When they do, I light up, turning to look around the room.

  Should I lay on the bed in a provocative pose, beckoning Lincoln to come in if he knocks? Should I put on something sexier than my t-shirt and yoga pants? Should I be wearing anything at all?

  As turned on as I am about the prospect of answering the door naked, I don’t want to miss out on Lincoln undressing me. We only have one night together. I need to experience everything he has to offer.

  When I hear footsteps growing closer, my heart ricochets into my throat and my eyes zero in on the door. Then the knock I’ve been waiting for echoes.

  I rush over, pausing to inhale a calming breath. But the instant I open the door and see Lincoln holding a bottle of wine and two glasses, I can’t stop my stomach from doing backflips.

  “May I come in?” he asks politely, yet seductive at the same time.

  “Of course.” I step back and allow him to enter. Using the flashlight on his phone to light the way, he walks toward the desk by the window, placing the bottle and glasses on it. He yanks out the cork and pours a deep red liquid into each glass, handing me one.

  “To blackouts,” he offers as he raises his wine.

  “To blackouts.” I clink my glass against his, then take a sip.

  “I hope you like it. I wasn’t sure what kind of wine you prefer, but remember you drinking a red when I saw you Sunday night.”

  I allow the robust flavor to dance on my tongue, a nice change after the beer. “This is more than acceptable,” I say with a smile, unable to mask the tremble in my voice. “Shiraz?” I arch a brow.

  He smiles over his glass, lowering it, licking the wine off his lips. “How could you tell from just the taste? Apart from a professional sommelier, I don’t know many people who could do that.”

  I shrug nonchalantly. “I know my wine.”

  “Really?”

  I hold his gaze, trying to act serious. Then I laugh as I nod at the bottle, the light from the moon casting a glow over the label. While most people would have to get a better look, I’d recognize the familiar script of that logo anywhere.

  “Penfolds,” I say. “If there’s one thing Australian winemakers are known for, it’s a fantastic shiraz.”

  “They certainly are.” He brings his glass back to his lips, but his gaze never leaves mine. I’ve never felt so exposed, as if Lincoln’s doing more than mentally undressing me. Maybe that’s what makes him so different. He looks into my eyes, instead of everywhere but, as I’m accustomed to.

  I take another sip of my wine as I attempt to calm my racing heart. This isn’t the first time I’ve slept with a guy I just met. But I’ve never been this jittery, this desperate.

  When I lower my glass, he reaches for it, not saying a single word. I allow him to take it and he places them on the desk, then faces me. My chest expands with my increasingly irregular breathing, my body aching to feel him. Finally, he palms my lower back and tugs me against him. He leans down and I crane my head, inching my lips toward his. But instead of feeling his mouth cover mine, he changes course at the last second, bringing his lips to my neck, clamping down his teeth.

  I yelp, struggling to make sense of the sensations filling me, the pleasure, the pain, everything in between. I now know where that saying “it hurts so good” comes from, because Lincoln… He definitely hurts so good. I don’t even care that the harshness of his bite will most likely leave a rather prominent mark. I want him to mark me. I want to walk around, have people stare and know what I did, what I let this stranger do to me. The idea makes me burn even hotter.

  When his lips finally make their journey to mine, his kiss is jarring, intense, lust-filled. He tastes of mint, spice, wine, and a flavor I surmise is uniquely Lincoln. One I fear I’ll crave for weeks to come.

  He clutches my face, keeping me in place, his grip powerful, demanding, confident. Everything I believe this man is. Then his eyes lift to mine, the fire in his gaze replaced with a hint of amusement.

  “What?” I ask, pinching my lips together.

  His smile only grows as he reaches into the pocket of his shorts and pulls out something. He opens his palm, revealing Izzy’s dice. “She let me have them. Said she already has some of these back home.”

  “Is that right?” I pass him a flirtatious grin.

  He nods. “That’s right.”

  “Well then…” I lift myself onto my toes and brush my lips against his. “Let the games begin.”

  I abruptly spin from him, sauntering toward the bed. When I feel the heat of his stare on me, I glance over my shoulder, a shiver rolling through me from the lust in his eyes.

  “Coming?”

  “I hope to.” With determined strides, he walks toward me, only needing four steps to close the distance.

  I lower myself to the mattress, scooting up toward the headboard, the only light coming from the moon. Lincoln’s hooded eyes lock on mine as he crawls onto the bed, advancing toward me like a lion stalking its prey.

  Apart from our breathing, not a single sound can be heard in the room, the lack of any power leaving everything silent. You don’t realize how many noises a house makes — air conditioning, refrigerator, whirring hum of computers — until you no longer have electricity. Every little thing seems more noticeable, more intense, more amplified. Like
the way Lincoln stares at me in a way I can’t recall a single person ever admiring me. Like the way our chests seem to rise and fall in perfect rhythm with each other. Like the way his tongue swipes along his lips, causing them to glisten, leaving me desperate for another taste.

  Clutching his cheeks in my hands, I pull him closer and press my mouth to his, exhaling into the kiss. It’s gentle, yet bubbling with a passion that’s been missing from my life for too long now. He threads his fingers through my hair as I wrap my legs around his waist, needing to feel all of him. When I circle my hips against him, he groans, his tongue brushing mine with more need, more ferocity, more desperation.

  “I don’t remember you rolling the dice,” he murmurs, throwing my own words from earlier back at me.

  “Those dice don’t have what I want to do on them.”

  “Is that so?” He lifts a single brow. “And what’s that?”

  I run my fingers up and down his back, my nails digging into his skin. He arches into my touch, biting his lower lip as he closes his eyes, a look of bliss washing over him. The rippling of his muscles against my hands makes me want to explore every single inch of his warm, firm body.

  Curving toward him, I nibble on his earlobe. “I want to taste you.”

  He stares down at me, his expression playful. “You can taste me if you roll LICK and FINGER.” He winks.

  I slowly shake my head, my gaze unwavering. “That’s not what I want to taste.”

  He takes my bottom lip between his teeth. I grow lightheaded, wanting him to keep doing that, but harder, and to other parts of my body.

  “Tell me what you want to taste, Chloe,” he demands.

  “You.”

  He loosens his bite, shifting position. “Oh, come now. I didn’t take you for being shy, Pixie.”

  “Pixie?” I lift my brows in question.