Game's Over: A BWWM Romance (Game of Chance Book 3)

by Sasha

  Wes took it all in, his heart beating so fast he thought he would die. Zenobia clutched at his shoulders, shaking with the intensity of the aftershocks, her body surrendering completely. She only had a few moments to come back down before they started all over again. She groaned and shuddered, still floating in a haze of white hot pleasure when Wes slipped his hot, hard dick inside of her.

  “Fuck, so beautiful,” Wes whispered reverently as he rocked his hips, slow, ever so slowly, his mouth pressed to Zenobia’s breast, teeth pulling lightly at the soft skin there.

  “Love you so much.” Wes pulled Zenobia closer to him as he drove his cock deeper inside. “Won’t ever let you go.”

  Zenobia’s bright, feverish eyes snapped open and she looked so long and hard in Wes’s, Wes thought he could reach the core of his very soul. He brought his mouth down on Zenobia’s lips for the softest of kisses as he slowly drove himself inside of her, keeping pace in time with her breathing.

  He knew there were going to be rug burns on his knees and on Zenobia’s ass come morning, but fuck if he cared. From that position, every slow, deep thrust hit her spot, and soon she was writhing and moaning desperately, her pleas loud and unintelligible.

  Sweat was pouring down her hairline and into her eyes, Zenobia’s body shining like a jewel even with no lights on in their apartment. Wes pressed his lips on Zenobia’s nipple, sneaked one arm under her hips and slowly heaved her up, until she was straddling Wes’s lap. Wes wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted her up before driving her back down on his cock, rocking her into his own thrusts.

  “I love you.”

  Wes’s words got lost against Zenobia’s skin, again and again. Zenobia mewled softly and shuddered, her own hand locking above Wes’s on her hips, fingers tangled, holding on tight.

  “I love you too.”

  Zenobia panted and gasped in the crook of Wes’s neck, their breaths harsh and ragged. Wes’s own release was pulsing, hot and intense at the pit of his stomach, spreading from the base of his spine to the rest of his body. He couldn’t hold on much longer, and it didn’t look like Zenobia was fairing much better.

  Zenobia tightened around him, fingernails sinking into the skin and at the back of Wes’s neck, her hips growing erratic as she impaled herself on Wes’s dick with every push and pull. Wes pulled their joined hands off Zenobia’s hip and guided them towards her painful, blood-heavy clit. The moment their fingers touched it, Zenobia cried out and came, shaking violently and contracting against his cock.

  “Fuck.”

  Wes grunted and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to hold on, let Zenobia ride out her own orgasm, but not even a full minute later he came, too, buried deep in her pussy, Zenobia’s hot, trembling body blanketing him.

  “Fuck,” Zenobia breathed a few minutes later.

  “Hmm?” Wes opened one eye, grinning, all lazy and catlike. “Hey.”

  “I think I should send Grant a bottle of wine or something.” Zenobia chuckled, shuffling against Wes, whose softening cock was still buried deep inside her.

  Wes groaned. “Well, then my plan backfired spectacularly.”

  “Shut up and kiss me,” Zenobia ordered, and it was with a smile that Wes brushed his lips against Zenobia’s. “You have all of tomorrow to find a better plan.” Wes could surely not ignore such a challenge.

  Chapter 4

  Of the contestants who had made it through the first round, Grant was the first to arrive. The club was already full, and twice as many people were waiting outside, bargaining with bouncers to be let in. Grant thought they’d better spare their money. Wes’s club was the best for many reasons, security not excluded. There was no chance in hell anyone without a ticket would have been able to worm their way in.

  He walked in through the side door, showing the color-coded wristband that gave him backstage access, and found himself pretty much alone in the spacious, couch-filled room that worked as backstage.

  He tried not to be too disappointed. After her number the previous night, Vivica had all but disappeared. Even when they announced the names of those going through to the second night, she was nowhere to be found. He didn’t know what he hated more—the idea that he couldn’t get a chance to get into Vivica’s pants before he fled, or that someone else actually managed to get into her pants and had gone off with her.

  To be completely honest, he didn’t actually think the latter could even be close to the realm of possibility, but a nagging voice in his brain told him that even if she didn’t seem interested in him, that didn’t mean she wasn’t interested in anyone else. Which put Grant in the place where he just had to have Vivica fall for him. It was a matter of pride and one of principle.

  He sprawled down on one of the plush white leather couches, looking around sort of bored. He thought running in the contest would be much more fun. He’d never done it himself, but he’d made a point during all the years previous to that one to do at least ten of the contestants. And now that they were trickling in, all of them, each one looking more gorgeous than the other, Grant could only look up and mentally compare them to Vivica and find them all wanting.

  It was nearly absurd, and maddening at the same time. Here he was, in a room that looked as though Playgirl had coughed it up, and all he could think of was of an enigma with an attitude problem. There was clearly something wired a little differently in his brain. Zenobia wasn’t yet there, nor was Wes, but even if they had been, Grant didn’t think he’d ever bother going to the bar. What was the point? It wasn’t like he was in love with Zenobia. Grant didn’t do love.

  He looked around idly, checking his watch every few minutes to see whether there was any chance that Vivica might skip the contest after all, but he needn’t have worried. A minute to midnight, she finally walked through the curtains of the backstage with the same elegant stiffness that she had had the previous night before her performance, and a spark ignited in Grant’s belly. Vivica’s eyes fixed on him immediately, only a split second, but Grant grinned nonetheless. So that was how it was gonna be, huh? Good to know. He could work with that.

  He stood from the couch, but Vivica was already gone. Where, Grant had no idea, but he would think about that later. He was still the first in line and he had to open the show. Grant didn’t mind going first, but he would’ve liked for Vivica to be there to see him. At least she made it there before his performance. What that meant, or if it meant anything at all, Grant didn’t really want to dwell on it. He didn’t like thinking too much, it made everything complicated.

  “Hey,” he asked of Tasha, a moment before stepping on stage. “Can I change my song?”

  Tasha eyed him up and down until Grant squirmed under the scrutiny. It was as though she knew he was up to something.

  “That’s your shot,” she said finally. “Talk to the DJ and make it quick, will you? You’re not the only one in the running.”

  Grant nodded quickly, ducking his head with a bashful mannerism that usually made women melt and whipped around to whisper in the DJ’s ear before walking on stage. The lights were off, and Grant walked to the center of the stage, his back to the crowd and pressed up against the cold metal of the pole.

  One way, or another, I’m gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha…

  He hoped the message was subtle enough. Grant didn’t check to see whether Vivica was looking, but there were monitors everywhere. Even in the goddamn bathroom. She was going to see him. Whether Vivica picked up the challenge or not, well, one could hope. Grant moved sensually, acting out the lyrics of the song, his hips swaying and gyrating. He shuffled back, ass against the pole, his legs spread obscenely wide. Grant slowly unfastened his shirt, which was already loose at the throat, until it hung in a teasing V, baring his hard golden muscles to the world.

  There was a cute girl two rows from the front basically salivating, and Grant locked eyes with her for a moment or two, enjoying the cat and mouse game. But when he turned his back to the crowd, one arm around the pole and his legs to th
e side, curving around it as he spun around to the chorus, he found himself staring into deep pools of chocolate brown eyes at the other end of the stage.

  Grant nearly fumbled and fell, but he was quick to recover. He couldn’t allow Vivica to see what kind of effect she was having on him. He needed to stay in control, despite the fact that euphoria was running wild through him, coupling with adrenaline and making him feel stupidly lightheaded. Grant curled one knee around the pole and threw himself backward, nipples brown and erect, standing in stark contrast against his tanned skin and the black of his open shirt.

  You asked for it, Grant thought, head thrown back, staring upside down at Vivica for an instant before he drew himself up again. He undid the last button of the shirt and let it slide down his body until it curled around his wrists, then ripped it off, throwing it at the crowd.

  There was a scramble to catch it, but Grant wasn’t paying attention. He wasn’t stripping for them, not anymore. He was stripping for Vivica, and he made sure she knew it. He was down to his G-string again when the song ended, to wild applause and cheers from the enthusiastic crowd, and Grant took a short bow before retreating backstage.

  “Well, talk about setting the bar,” Tasha said into her microphone as she walked on stage, to another loud round of applause and cheers. “I think Grant made it through to next round, hasn’t he?”

  Grant grinned to himself as he stepped into his robe, instinctively looking around. He wanted to see Vivica’s reaction before she got a chance of to hide behind her usual cool mask. Grant knew that she had been watching. Now it was a matter of her deciding whether she wanted to take the bait or not.

  He found Vivica lounging on the couches backstage as though nothing had happened, looking cool and composed, and Grant suddenly felt inexplicably angry. What the hell was she playing at anyway? And why did Grant give a flying fuck? He should be upstairs, in one of the bedrooms, fucking his way through the four ladies that had battled for his shirt. Grant decided to go for it. He wasn’t in the mood for more games. And Vivica didn’t look like she was in any game at all, so there was that.

  “Hey,” he greeted, striding purposefully to where Vivica was sitting and taking the spot next to him. Not too close, but close enough to feel the waves of heat radiating off him. Grant stretched out, not too subtly checking Vivica out. “Did you like the song?”

  Vivica scowled at him. Grant felt sure Vivica didn’t mean to look quite as pretty when she scowled. He grinned.

  “That’s a yes, then.”

  “You do not want to play this game,” Vivica said. Her voice was soft, musical, but with a rough edge to it. It made Grant shiver. “Trust me.”

  “How do you know I don’t?”

  “I just know.”

  “I might just have to prove you wrong then.”

  Vivica’s eyes narrowed. Grant fought the urge to shift on the couch, his dick stirring traitorously in the folds of his robe.

  “You will not. And I am telling you now, find someone else to play with.”

  “Maybe I don’t want someone else.”

  “You think you don’t, but you do. You don’t care, not really. And you won’t care after you had your way. So you can go back to where you came from, and the real reason you joined this contest.”

  Grant was thrown. He tilted his head to the side, staring at Vivica for a long beat of silence. “And what is that?”

  “To get into every pair of pants available.”

  Grant had no idea how Vivica could muster up such plain, simple and pure disdain, and still manage to get him harder than he’d been in a long time. I’m fucked.

  “That’s why you think I’m here?” He was playing with fire, but that’s what Grant did best. “That’s a little rich coming from someone who’s in the very same contest.”

  That hit a nerve. Vivica stood up, fire in her eyes and Grant swallowed, hard. Jesus, but she was pretty, even when she looked like she could destroy him with the fierceness of her glare.

  “Don’t you ever dare to assume you know anything about me.”

  And with that, she was gone.

  Chapter 5

  Grant gaped at the spot Vivica had just vacated. He was left in equal measure hot, bothered and annoyed. He knew Vivica wanted him. He had seen her looking, he had seen the aftermath of his performance. Grant knew what kind of effect he’d had had on her.

  So what was that all about? It couldn’t be just because Vivica wanted to play hard to catch. There was something about her that told Grant things went deep, way below the surface when he was concerned. He just couldn’t quite figure out what, yet. And he also couldn’t explain why he cared so much. It wasn’t like Grant cared about her. Grant didn’t care about people, not really. So, he didn’t really care about Vivica.

  Then why was he standing up to follow?

  Vivica was already on stage when Grant managed to catch up with her. Once again, Grant had no idea what happened in her brain when she walked on stage, because if he hadn’t been talking to her a moment ago, he would’ve sworn that her evil twin was taking the stage right then and there.

  Vivica ripped her shirt off with no ceremony, twirling it around in a makeshift rope to hook around the pole as she swayed. The metal studs in her nipples were slightly bigger, shaped like small arrows, and gleamed under a shower of glitter. Grant swallowed. Fuck. He was well and truly fucked. At least metaphorically speaking. Vivica looked straight at him as she lowered herself on her knees, the pole in between her legs. Her eyes bore into Grant’s as she gripped the pole with both hands, stroking it as she would a huge cock while she dragged herself up again, her tits and pussy pressing hotly against the thick rod.

  “Fuck.” Grant’s throat was too dry for proper speech.

  Vivica tossed the shirt to the floor, one delicate hand skimming across her torso, glittery black nail polish that Grant hadn’t noticed up until that moment making the trip of her fingers easy to follow even with the pulsing lights. Her fingertips stopped an instant to tease her nipple before undoing the buckle of her belt

  I’m bringing sexy back.

  Vivica mouthed seductively to the words of the song, no longer looking at Grant as he slid the studded belt out of her denim shorts with one rapid move, using it to anchor herself to the pole as she did a full turn of the stage.

  Shit. Grant was starting to suspect that Vivica had some disassociative disorder or other. There were no other explanations in sight. Still, the mystery that was her hot/cold game kept him on his toes, kept him wanting.

  Grant wondered if that was what it was all about. Just a game to see how long Grant would wait, if he would take the time to figure her out. Unless she was one of those stuck up women who thought she was too good for anyone.

  A crazy thought flitted through his mind. Maybe he could ask Zenobia whether she knew Vivica at all, but he didn’t fancy his chances to get anywhere near Zenobia without Wes using his ass to wipe the floor. Wes hadn’t looked like he appreciated Grant’s presence at his club—and there was also the problem that he didn’t think they were working that night.

  Still, short of asking Tasha—and to be honest, she sort of frightened him; she looked like she could eat him alive—Grant was running out of options.

  On stage, Vivica spun around to face the crowd, her thigh wrapped around the pole as she danced. The fabric dipped just a touch, low enough for Grant to see a hint of the shadowy crease of her ass. Then, still wrapped around the bar, Vivica leaned back, bending almost double until she could place her hands on the stage beneath her. Vivica’s fingers brushed the floor, then, holding herself with her knees, she reached up and slipped a hand into the waistband of her shorts.

  Grant groaned and instinctively reached underneath his robe to fondle his hardening cock through the fabric of his G-string. In a distant corner of his mind, he could see Vivica spread out on a bed, laying on her back, naked, eyes tightly shut as he cupped his balls and rolled them in his palm, the skin hot, pulled tight over his sac.<
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  Grant kept his eyes half closed as he watched her on stage, one hand down the open V of his pants, his cock grinding against the pole, and pictured how she would look as she touched herself in the middle of his bed, her head to the side, mouthing at her own shoulder, nail-polished fingers rubbing the piercing of her nipples until they were sore, hard enough to hurt, flicking them as she fingered her own pussy.

  Fuck. Grant’s hand slipped under his G-string to find his stiff dick. He fondled the head, then went lower to press against his balls, biting back a moan, even though, no one could hear him with the tumultuous cheers from the crowd and the thumping of the music.

  Fuck, but Vivica was sinful.

  Grant watched through heavy lidded eyes as Vivica turned around to face the crowd, both hands on each side of the pole as though in prayer, legs spread wide, shorts undone. She threw her head back and let her hands shift down the pole until she could grab the waistband of her shorts, eyes closed as she swayed and slowly peeled her shorts down her ass and to her thighs, revealing her perfect, round ass in her black G-string.

  Grant’s dick jumped up from his hand, and he squeezed hard at the base, biting the back of his palm as he began to stroke himself, picturing those long, sexy legs hiked back against her naked breasts, until the knees pushed against the piercings on her nipples. Grant would keep her spread wide, his leaking cock rubbing against her wet slit; he’d tease her, give her back a taste of her own medicine, make her beg until her voice was raw and spent and used. Grant groaned out loud, gripping the back of the stage for support as he stroked himself faster, his eyes trailing up Vivica’s body as she rubbed her back against the pole, riding it with her perfect, bare ass.

  Grant fought to keep his eyes open, rocking into his hand and imagining how it would feel if he had Vivica spread out underneath him, bucking and rocking against him as Grant held her down, fingers kneading into the curve of her hips. The music came to a crescendo as Vivica let her thumbs slip tantalizingly inside the front of her thong, and fuck, Grant was done for. He spilled into his hand, inside his G-string, his breath quick and short, his knuckles whitening as he clutched at the back of the stage for support.