The Next Move

by Lauren Gallagher

  ~ * ~

  She stood and went into her bedroom. "Whoever you are," she whispered. "I hope you know how lucky you are."

  Twenty

  "We really are pathetic."

  Kat moved her bishop into place and looked at Chris. "Why are we pathetic?" She paused, hiding a satisfied smirk at the frown he suddenly directed at the board. "Well, I know why you’re pathetic, but—"

  "Quiet, you." He glanced up and laughed. "I should know better than to try to carry on a conversation with you while we’re playing."

  "You could take a vow of silence and I’d still beat you."

  He smirked. "Promise?"

  "At chess, you dirty bastard."

  He snapped his fingers and shook his head. "Damn." For a moment, he was quiet, contemplating his next move while she watched him in silence.

  They’d both had dates that evening. Or so he thought, anyway. Chris had a date, but she’d cancelled at the last minute. Kat hadn’t made any plans at all, but made him think she had a date. She didn’t want him to know she was deliberately leaving a prime date night vacant in hopes of a booty call.

  Still looking at the board, he said, "So you don’t think it’s pathetic anymore? Staying in on a Friday night to move little black and white pieces around on a board?"

  "No, staying in on a Friday night and playing chess was pathetic back when neither of us was getting any action." She shrugged. "Now it just means we’re spending a nice, quiet evening in, sharing some good conversation, good wine, halfway decent chess and—" She shrugged again. "We both have a sure thing."

  He laughed, sliding his knight across a few spaces and picking up her pawn. "So you’re just playing because you know that I’ll fuck you at the drop of a hat?"

  "No, I’m playing because I know I can trample your ass without even paying attention." With that, she moved her queen and took Chris’s knight. "I’m here because I know you’ll fuck me at the drop of a hat."

  "Pity I don’t have a hat handy." He winked, then moved his rook.

  ~ * ~

  Sitting back on the couch, he watched her over his wine glass as she decided on her next move. Maybe it wasn’t so pathetic to stay in for the evening playing chess rather than going out on the prowl. It was less of a headache than a date. He shuddered at the memory of his evening with Emily. And as Kat said, they both had a sure thing this way. Why not cut out all the bullshit, relax for an evening, and then spend the rest of the night covered in sweat and each other?

  She’d probably think he was pathetic, though, if she knew that the date he’d had tonight never existed. He knew she had plans, so he had told her he had a date so she wouldn’t think he was just sitting at home in case she called for a booty call. Which, of course, was exactly what he’d planned to do.

  But then he’d worried that she wouldn’t call if she thought he was out on a date too. So, he’d sent a text message shortly before he left work, letting her know that his 'date' had cancelled. Never in his life had a text message aroused him more than when three simple words lit up his LCD screen:

  So did mine.

  And here she was.

  ~ * ~

  He looked at the board, then at her. "I can’t think of many other women that would be in the mood for sex after playing chess."

  "Why not?"

  He shrugged. "Guess some people don’t do the switch from cerebral to primal quite as smoothly as we do."

  She reached for her wine, her eyes still fixed on the board. "I think chess makes for great foreplay."

  "Why? Because by the time we’re done, we’re both frustrated and aggravated?"

  "No," she said. "Chess has its primal points too."

  "Chess? Primal? How so?" He raised his eyebrows as he sipped his wine.

  "What’s more primal than a game of offense and defense?" she said. "Sure, the strategizing and all of that is intellectual, but the thrill of the hunt? The panic of being backed into a corner? Trapped? Having someone find and exploit your weaknesses to their own advantage?" She grinned at the stunned expression on his face. "One of the most civilized games on the planet, and it all boils down to flirting with fight and flight."

  He shook his head and sipped his wine again. "I think some of the world’s chess masters might disagree with you."

  "Their brows sweat just as much as yours does, Christian. Dress it up as a civilized game of strategy all you want," She slid her queen across the board, positioning the piece perfectly to take his rook if he left it there. "But it’s nothing more than toying with base instincts."

  "Toying with me is more like it," he said, scowling at the board.

  "That’s kind of the idea," she said with a grin. "I like the hunt, and I like to play with my food."

  He laughed, but she didn’t miss the shiver that went up his spine. "Only you could make chess sound dirty."

  "Anything can be dirty, and chess is no exception. And as far as I’m concerned," she paused, lifting her wine glass to her lips. "Chess is just foreplay." She rolled a sip of wine around on her tongue for a moment, then smiled. "Besides, it reminds you who’s in control."

  "Oh really?" Then he grinned. "Very true, I suppose, since the king is the most important piece on the board."

  "Most important, maybe, but by no means is he the most powerful player." She picked up her queen. "The queen, my friend, is the most powerful." To emphasize her point, she moved her queen to claim Chris’s rook. "Check."

  His lips tightened into a frustrated scowl. Then he moved his king out of harm’s way.

  "No matter where he goes," she said, inching her queen across the board. "She’s there to remind him that she, not he, is the one in control." She tapped the queen on the board, and then released it. "Check."

  He chewed his lip and glared at the board, eyes flicking at each piece in turn as he sized up the situation. Then he moved his king another space. "So you’re saying your queen is a dominatrix?"

  "Maybe," she said with a shrug. "That’s not to say the king is unimportant." She gave him a playful smirk. "After all, when the king goes down, game over."

  "Au contraire." He grinned. "When the king goes down, the game is just getting started."

  "Touché," she said. "But until such time as he does go down…" She moved her queen again. "He just has to take whatever the queen dishes out. Check."

  ~ * ~

  He moved his king again, this time taking a diagonal step behind his bishop. If the queen moved to put him back into check, she’d be open to attack from the bishop. Resting his elbows on his knees, he folded his hands and looked up, giving her a smug grin. "I can take whatever you, or your queen, can dish out."

  "So you say," she said. "But no matter where you go, or how fast you try to run away…" She reached for a rook that had blended benignly into the background in all of Chris’s efforts to keep his king away from her queen. Watching him, not the piece she moved across the board, she said, "The end result is always the same." The rook stopped.

  "And what result is that?"

  "Queen takes king." She took her finger off the rook. "Checkmate."

  "Except your rook won," he said with a smirk. "So while it’s checkmate, the queen hardly did the taking."

  "The rook is just a castle," she said. "A wall. My queen backed you up until you hit that wall. And now, with your back against the wall and nowhere else to go…" She reached across the board and flicked his king over. "Queen. Takes. King."

  He swallowed. "Now I can’t be sure if I’ve won or lost."

  "Depends on which game we’re talking about." She grinned and stood, stepping around the coffee table and putting her knee next to him on the couch. "If it’s chess…" The other knee came down beside him as she sat over him. "You’re fucked."

  Running his hands over her hips, he gently pulled her all the way down onto his lap. "And the other game?"

  "If it’s that game…" She ran her fingers through his hair. "Then you’re also fucked."

  Wetting his lips, he whi
spered, "So which game are we playing?"

  "The one that starts with you getting fucked."

  Twenty One

  Kat let out a long sigh. "Oh my God, that feels good."

  "I’m not even touching you." Chris eased himself into the hot tub beside her.

  "I was talking about the water."

  "Come on now, you’re going to make me jealous." He sipped his wine, then set it on the side of the tub.

  She laughed. "If you’re jealous of a tub full of hot water, then you’ve got some insecurity issues, Christian."

  He shot her a playful glare. "Well, I just won’t turn the jets on, how about that?"

  Smirking, she said, "Or you could leave me alone with the jets for a few minutes."

  "What?" He rolled his eyes and sighed, feigning exasperation. "Haven’t I already done enough for you tonight?"

  "I’m always ready for more, you know that."

  "Dirty woman."

  She scoffed with mock offense. "I beg your pardon! I am not a dirty woman."

  He laughed into his wine glass. "Then I’m a pure, unspoiled virgin."

  "Yeah, that’ll be the day."

  "Exactly. I’m no virgin and you are a dirty, dirty woman." He set his glass down again and reached for her. Pulling her into his lap, he gave her a knowing look as he rested his hands on her hips. "In fact, my dear, I think you’re even dirtier than you’ve admitted to me."

  "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

  He grinned. "I think you do."

  Raising an eyebrow, she said, "Oh?"

  "Come on, tell me."

  She trailed her nails lightly up and down his abs and chest. "I don’t know what there is to tell that you don’t already know."

  His hands moved from her hips up her back, the water rippling gently against her skin as droplets fell from his hands. "I know a lot of things about you that you’ve never told me."

  "Oh?" Her hands stopped on his chest. "Did someone kiss and tell?"

  "Oh yes," he said. "They told me a lot of things."

  She cocked her head. "Who, and about what?"

  He drew her towards him and gently took her nipple between his teeth. "Someone who knows a lot about you and the sexy, dirty things you’ve done. And do."

  She whimpered softly as he flicked his tongue across her nipple. "Tell me, Bailey."

  "I know you’ve kissed another woman." He paused, closing his lips around her nipple and sucking it just hard enough to almost hurt. "And I know you’ve dabbled in some BDSM."

  A nervous flutter in her gut made her breath catch. "Chris…"

  He smiled. "No one told me, Kat, don’t worry."

  "Then how did—" She gave him a playful glare. "Nice bluff. You’re just trying to trick me into admitting things."

  "Oh no, I’m not tricking you at all," he said, moving to her other nipple and sucking gently. "Because I know you’ve done it. And you’ve all but admitted to it anyway, so you might as well confess."

  "Okay, you got me." She ran her fingers through his wet hair. "I’ve kissed a woman, and I’ve been known to dance with the devil of BDSM. But how did you know?"

  He grinned. "I have my ways."

  She tightened her grasp on his hair and pulled his head back, keeping her breast just out of his reach. "How?"

  As casually and matter-of-factly as possible, he said, "You told me."

  "I know," she said, rolling her eyes. "I told you just now."

  "No, you just confirmed what I already knew." He tried to flick his tongue across her nipple, but missed when she pulled away.

  She laughed, putting her hands back on his chest to keep him back. "Come on, tell me. How did you know I’m into BDSM?"

  "That was easy," he said, looking damned proud of himself.

  "Was it?"

  He nodded. "You left evidence." His hand left her back and he gently picked her hand up off of his chest and brought it up to his lips. He kissed her palm, then the inside of her wrist. Meeting her eyes, he ran the tip of his tongue just below the heel of her hand. "Handcuffs," he whispered, his breath cool against her wet skin.

  In that instant, she remembered the welts she’d tried —evidently unsuccessfully—to cover up. She ran her hand down his other arm and brought his hand out of the water, kissing his palm just as he had done.

  "Well, if you knew what left those welts…" She made a circle on the inside of his wrist with the tip of her tongue. "Then something tells me you’ve seen them before…" She kissed below the heel of his hand. "Or you’ve had them yourself."

  "Maybe a little of both." He kissed her palm again, then nipped the side of her hand. "I can be a sub just as much as I can be a dom."

  "Preference?"

  He paused, pursing his lips, then looked at her. "If I had to pick, I’d say sub."

  She leaned forward, keeping her breasts just out of his reach and grinning when he tried, but failed, to take one of her nipples into his mouth. "So you like it when a woman is in control?"

  He let a frustrated breath out through his teeth. "Absolutely." He swallowed hard. "So do you like it when a woman is in control?"

  "I like being in control, yes."

  A devilish grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. "That wasn’t what I asked."

  She raised an eyebrow. "How did you know about

  that?"

  He gave her a toothy grin. "So it’s true, then?"

  "Yes, it is. How did you know?"

  "The lipstick on your blouse and the side of your neck at the club one night wasn’t the same color as the lipstick you were wearing."

  She smiled. "You’re very observant, aren’t you?"

  "So it was someone else’s lipstick?"

  "Well, unless I was just really drunk and got more of it on my shirt than on my face."

  "Doesn’t explain the different color."

  "Maybe I was trying something new."

  His grin turned into a cocky smirk. "Oh, I think you were, but that something wasn’t a new lipstick color."

  She laughed. "You make it sound like that was the first time I’d ever kissed a woman."

  "So you make a habit of these wild acts of sexual deviance?"

  "I wouldn’t call it a habit as much as a hobby."

  He chuckled. "You’re even dirtier than I thought."

  "And you love it." She kissed him. "So there you have it. I confessed." She took a deep, melodramatic breath. "I’ve kissed…a woman."

  "And did you like it?"

  "I wasn’t sure," she said. "So I had to try it again." She kissed him. "And again." Another kiss. "And again."

  His lips barely leaving hers, he asked, "Do I ever get to see you kiss another woman?"

  "Maybe." She laughed. "It’s not like that’s the dirtiest thing I’ve ever done with a woman."

  His eyebrows jumped. "Oh really?"

  "I’ve done more than kiss a woman, Chris." Her lip brushed his.

  He swallowed. "Do tell."

  "I know what a woman’s kiss tastes like." She kissed him, just her lips against his, no tongue. "I know what a woman’s nipple feels like against my tongue." She bent and kissed his neck, then sucked his earlobe between her teeth for a second before letting it go. "I know what another woman’s pussy feels like around my fingers." He sucked in a breath, his body tensing, and she flicked her tongue just below his ear. "And I know what a woman tastes like right when she comes."

  A shiver ran up his spine and he let out a ragged breath. She couldn’t be sure if it was from what she said or the fact that she was breathing against his skin, but the reaction satisfied her nonetheless. She kissed him deeply, letting him draw her tongue into his mouth and wondering if he was imagining what her kiss tasted like after she’d gone down on another woman. Judging by the shudder that went through him, that may very well have been the case.

  Barely whispering, she said, "So now you know what a dirty woman I am."

  His voice trembled. "And I love it."

  She sat up,
looking him in the eye. "So, now that I’ve confessed to some bisexual experimentation and having a thing for BDSM, it’s your turn to fess up."

  "And I confessed to BDSM, so we’re even."

  "No, I’m still one ahead of you." She leaned forward and kissed him again. "I know there’s more filth lurking in that colorful past of yours."

  "I have nothing to confess." He batted his eyes. "Clearly you’re the dirtier of the two of us, so I bow down to your superior—"

  "You’re a terrible liar." She laughed. "Now tell me."

  "Tell you what?"

  "Anything. Something dirty that you’ve done."

  "Do you really think I’ve done anything as dirty as kissing someone of the same sex?"

  "Have you kissed someone of the same sex?"

  His eyes never left hers. "Does it only count if I was sober, it wasn’t a bet, and I initiated it?"

  "Yes."

  "Then yes, I have."

  She blinked. "Really?"

  He nodded, his cheeks coloring a little. "A few years back."

  "Have you ever—?"

  "No."

  "You don’t even know what I was going to ask."

  "Yes, I do," he laughed. "And no, I didn’t."

  "So, what, you and another guy were bored one night,

  so you decided to give it a go?"

  He chuckled, his cheeks darkening a little more. "Well, it wasn’t quite like that."

  "So what was it like?"

  He shrugged. "I was curious." He trailed his fingertips up and down her back, letting droplets of water trickle down her spine. "We kissed to see what it was like, made out for a while. Never went any further than that."

  "Did you ever do it again?"

  He shook his head. "Wasn’t my thing. I mean, it was fun, I’ll give you that, but I just never felt any desire to do it again." He put his hand on the back of her neck and brought her down to kiss him. "Kissing another man is fun, but it’s got nothing on kissing a woman." His tongue parted her lips and his fingers wandered into her hair.

  "I don’t know," she murmured. "I think men are better kissers than women."

  "Oh?" He kissed her lightly. His other hand cupped her breast, his thumb running back and forth over her nipple.

  She bit her lip, suppressing a moan. "Women are too gentle. I mean, I like kissing women, don’t get me wrong, but I like a more…" She paused. "Aggressive kisser."