Playing the Field ebook final draft

by Gray, Mackenzie

  The furrow in his brow deepens. Emotion flickers behind his eyes, too quick for me to discern.

  “I see.” A slow smile unfolds across his face. “Ah, Rebecca. Why are you lying to yourself? To me?” Before I can answer, the tip of his nose skims along my jaw. My breath hitches. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll step away.”

  My nerves alight where our skin touches, the faintest, barely-there brush causing bumps to ripple across my arms and chest. Everything in my body reaches toward that feeling, like light in the darkness.

  His nose drifts down my throat. He inhales deeply, his breath stirring the baby-fine hairs at my nape. We’re barely touching, but it’s the most erotic thing that’s ever happened to me. I want his hands on me. I want them digging in, burning and scratching and clawing and bruising. I want and I want and I want.

  “Just say the word,” he murmurs, lips brushing my neck as he speaks. Instinctively, I arch toward him to provide better access. “Tell me no, Rebecca.”

  A fog descends over me. Yes.

  I inch my neck closer, but he pulls away, tugging my dress collar down so my collarbone is exposed. His warm, wet mouth heats the thin skin, and I think I might burst into flames. “I drank too much.” I start babbling, my head clouded. “I don’t even really like beer. I’m more of a martini person. Dry—”

  My body shudders. My hands lift as if to grab onto him, but I drop them. Once I touch him, I won’t be able to stop. He’s digging up the desire I worked so hard to bury these past weeks, but it’s seeping up like magma, pouring into me, flooding my veins and muscles and bones.

  For the first time, it sinks into me how dangerous Mitchell is. He makes me forget myself so easily.

  We’re flush against one another in the deserted hallway, the bass vibrating through the soles of my feet, into my blood. Mitchell pulls away, and I look up into his eyes. They’re swallowed by desire.

  Without realizing it, one of my hands settles on his chest. My fingers drift side to side.

  He captures my hand. “What are you doing?” His voice is so rough it grates.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper. It feels like I’m under a spell.

  “Rebecca.”

  “Mitchell.”

  “What’s your answer?”

  I blink. Everything is slow and soft. “Answer to what?”

  A quiet yet serious smile curves his mouth. He leans forward, kisses my jaw. “This.” He moves to my cheek, gives another gentle kiss. “And this.”

  “I don’t—I can’t—” A soft moan slips out as he nips my neck, teeth digging in. Pressure pounds between my quivering legs. I fist the fabric of his shirt in one hand, my other gripping his waist to tug him closer, so close that there’s no space between us, not even enough for the music to slip through.

  His chuckle skates across my damp skin. “It’s a simple question. Yes or no?”

  He’s wrong. It’s not simple. Throughout my life, I’ve always needed to pick apart emotions, to better understand why and how I feel them. But maybe Mitchell’s right. Maybe it doesn’t need to be complex. It can be simple. I either want this, or I don’t.

  My body already knows the answer. I’m clutching his shirt like it’s a rope about to fray. My skin vibrates with electricity, my back bowed toward him.

  “Kiss me,” I whisper.

  His mouth crushes against mine with enough force to slam my back against the doorframe. There’s no gentleness. There’s no leisure. He’s destroying my mouth with deep kisses that grow darker, impossibly hungry. But I’m no different. My lips are frenzied, sucking at his mouth, plying his lips apart so I can dive in and suck on his tongue. His rough groan vibrates into my mouth, my need spiraling higher.

  He takes, but I take more. Snaking my arm around his neck, I yank his head down so we’re aligned, our heavy, uneven breathing masking the sounds of the party below. Fire licks along my body, heading south, and the memory of him grinding against me in the park blasts me sideways, because I thought that was it, that was the hottest I could ever feel, but no. This kiss blows that first one out of the water. There is no bottom. I’m drowning, and I don’t ever need air to breathe again.

  Mitchell rips his lips away, gasping. Then he goes for my neck. “Your mouth. God, your mouth.” The words hiss along my skin.

  He bites down, hard. My body jolts in surprise, but it’s not enough. “Harder.”

  He complies, gripping my hips, fingers digging in, when the sound of shattering glass breaks us apart. We stare at one another, hair disheveled, chests heaving.

  Mitchell grabs my wrist, tugs me into the bathroom, and locks the door.

  I barely have time to turn before I’m pressed against the wall, his mouth descending on mine again. At the park, I didn’t allow myself to touch him save his chest. But now I touch him everywhere. I grip his hard, muscular shoulders. I touch his solid pectorals, his heartbeat thundering beneath my palm. My fingers wander down to his waist, then up beneath his shirt to smooth, hot skin, his abdominal muscles contracting at my touch. At his flinch, I yank them away.

  He growls deeply and plunders my mouth, lips slanting across mine. “Touch me,” he says. “I want to feel your hands on me.”

  Well then.

  I dive beneath his shirt again. Crisp hair dusts his chest, and when my palms skim over his nipples, he sucks in a breath, rests his forehead against mine, and closes his eyes.

  “Feels good,” he says. “Don’t stop.”

  My laughter threatens to choke me. There’s nothing on this earth that would stop me from touching Mitchell all over. Except for an atomic bomb, but even then, I’m not sure.

  The shirt is too much of a barrier. I yank it over his head and have to make a conscious effort to keep my mouth from falling open, because Mitchell Burns is one fine specimen of a man. Taut, tan skin over lean muscles that shift and bunch. His chest hair, dark brown like the hair on his head, travels down his ripped stomach, growing more curly and dense before disappearing into the waistband of his pants.

  “Enjoying the view?” His words are strangled.

  Oh yes. Very much so.

  I scrape my fingernails across his nipples. He swears softly, jerking me closer. When our hips bump, my core aches with emptiness. I want him filling me all the way up.

  I peek at him through my eyelashes. His eyes are still closed. “Do you like that?”

  “You playing games, Becky?” He opens his eyes. They swirl with something animalistic, something baser that makes me want to pounce.

  “It’s a simple question,” is my breathy reply.

  A corner of his mouth lifts. “You know I do.”

  “And this?” Leaning forward, I lick his nipple, trace my tongue around the rim, before biting gently down on the pebbled tip.

  “Christ.” My bun comes loose as he winds his fingers through my hair, but it’s still in a ponytail. As long as it’s not fully down, he probably won’t recognize the similarities to Blue Girl. I’ll need to be careful about that in the future though.

  I lave his other nipple, the flat of my tongue moving torturously slow.

  “Bite it like you did the other one. Yeah, like that.” He groans, and the hard length of him rubs against my hip bone. “So good.”

  A sense of power overtakes me. He needs to be naked. His torso is beautiful, but I want the rest. I want everything he can give me.

  Gently, I push him away. Mitchell’s eyes flutter open, locking onto mine.

  “Take off your pants. Now.”

  Chapter 17

  mitchell

  This girl is trying to kill me.

  She’s looking at me with so much heat in her eyes, so much promise. She licks her lips slow-like, waiting. Rebecca is not playing around. If she wants me to take off my pants, then I’m taking off my damn pants. I’ve thought of touching her for far too long. I’m going to take my time torturing Rebecca, because she’s been tying me up in knots from the very beginning.

  Mouth parted, eyes glazed,
she watches me undo my belt, then the button on my pants. The zipper scrapes down, agonizingly slow. Her pupils are huge in her face as I quickly slip off my shoes and push my pants down my hips, shucking them off.

  Her attention locks onto my crotch, where my bulge strains against the fabric of my black boxer briefs. It’s like a physical touch. My cock swells even more, throbbing with blood.

  “I don’t—” Rebecca swallows. “I don’t have a condom.”

  I ball my hands into fists to stop myself from ripping her clothes off. I want to fuck her against the wall, but I’m not interested in having sex with her in the bathroom of someone’s house. When that happens—because it will definitely happen now that I know we’re on the same page—I want it to be in my bed, no crowds, no music, no drinking. Just us, alone.

  “We don’t need a condom for what I’m going to do to you.”

  She blinks, as if she hadn’t considered that thought. “Oh.” It’s a soft, breathy sound. “S-so what then?” She crosses her arms, then drops them to her sides.

  “Hey.” Tugging her closer, I lighten my tone. “Relax.” My hands wander down to graze her ass.

  Rebecca is distracted enough that I crowd her into a corner, kissing her mouth, her neck, her shoulder, leaving a wet, open-mouthed trail. She squirms, rubbing herself against me. “Take off your shirt,” I murmur, then lick along her bottom lip, nip it so a needy moan slips out. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

  She abruptly stiffens, and I drop my hands. “What? Did you change your mind?”

  “No, I—I want to do things to you. Return the favor, so to speak.” Her eyelids droop down over her clouded gaze. When she smiles, it goes straight to my groin. “I insist.”

  Before I can protest, she drops to her knees. And Christ, if the sight of her parted lips only a few inches away from my erection doesn’t make me want to come.

  She looks up, fingers resting against the waistband of my boxer briefs. A question.

  In answer, I tug them down so they pool onto the cold tiled floor. Then I drag the shower rug over so she can kneel on it without bruising her knees. “Better?”

  “Such a gentleman.”

  A bark of laughter bursts free. “Keep staring at me like that and I’ll show you just how ungentlemanly I can be.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  God damn this girl. Where did she come from? Or was she here the whole time and I only noticed when I began looking past the clothes to the woman beneath?

  My dick twitches. The wait is agony. She just stares. Her small pink tongue drags across her lower lip.

  “My my my,” she murmurs, and wraps her hot little hand around me. A groan resonates in my chest. “What do we have here?”

  The low, throaty voice is not Rebecca. Or maybe it is. I don’t know. I just don’t understand how she can be both this bold sex kitten and someone who doesn’t even like her bare arms to show.

  Her grip tightens, and my hips jerk forward, needing the sweet friction. “Rebecca—”

  Someone pounds on the door, and we both jump in surprise. “What the hell are you doing in there? I’ve been waiting for ten minutes.”

  Her shoulders tremble in an attempt to contain her laughter. When she lifts her face, my heart stops. Her smile is stunning. “Make sure to keep your voice down,” she whispers, leaning forward. Her breath drifts across my sensitive flesh. “You don’t want to give us away now, do you?”

  Spearing my fingers through her hair, I grip tight. I’ll do whatever she wants so long as she draws me in deep. My head thunks back against the wall. I’m waiting. Waiting for her to touch me. Waiting for her hand to move. My balls tighten in anticipation, and my eyelids flutter shut.

  Then her hand strokes down, all the way to the base, and up, reaching the tip so the bead of precum spreads down my length, making for a smoother glide. The sensation shoots electricity down my spine, making my back arch like a cat. Ahhh fuck. Fuck.

  Don’t stop.

  Keep going.

  Suck me off.

  But I can’t speak. My throat has closed off from want, a tingling sensation gathering at the base of my lower spine. A strangled moan sounds as she again strokes me slowly, up and down, squeezing slightly when she nears the tip. This is heaven. This is hell. This is everything and yet nothing close to what I want.

  “How do you like it?” she asks. “Harder? Softer?”

  I clear my throat, glancing down to the top of her dark head. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, and the sight makes me smile. So analytical. “A little harder,” I ground out, gasping as she complies. “Yeah. Like that.” My fingers tighten in her hair. At her flinch, I release her, rubbing her scalp with my fingertips. “Sorry.”

  “No,” she whispers, glancing up. “I like it.”

  My throat bobs with desire. Yep. This girl is going to kill me.

  Whoever waits in the hall bangs on the door again. “Come on, man. I have to take a shit.”

  “Kind of busy right now,” I call back. One hand curves around Rebecca’s slender neck. She continues to stroke at a steady rhythm before she stops. A second later, her lips wrap around me and suck.

  I forget all about being quiet. I groan, loud and long, as the softness of her tongue circles my swollen head, dipping ever so slightly into the slit where the salted moisture beads, before licking all the way down, sucking as she goes. My grip on her hair tightens, needing something to hold onto. My breath pants out in short grunts.

  “Rebecca.” I murmur her name like a prayer.

  Then she takes me deep.

  Every muscle in my body stiffens at the assault of pleasure, and I’m helpless to the filthy words falling from my mouth. “That’s it, baby. Suck me off.” I guide her head, allowing her to determine the depth, but I set the speed. I alternate between slow and easy to faster, shallow thrusts that make my dick feel as if the nerves spark along my skin. My chest shudders as the tension mounts, branching down my arms and legs.

  “Oh, fuck,” I growl. My balls draw up, tightening as I pump faster. The tingle in my spine moves to my pelvis. “Harder, baby. Give me that dirty mouth.”

  Rebecca, on her knees, clutches my ass cheeks in both hands, moaning as the pace increases. She’s into this as much as I am, and my chest swells with turbulent emotion. But when she lets go, when she releases all control to me in a sign of trust and allows me to fuck her mouth, that’s the moment when I know this isn’t a simple bathroom hookup. Her perfect, beautiful mouth gives me more pleasure than I’ve ever known.

  The sight of her lips around me is branded into my brain, because this is just about the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I’m close. I promise that it won’t be the last time we’re together, that it won’t end after this night. I want tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.

  Deep, growly sounds resonate in the tiled space, and I don’t bother keeping my voice down as my orgasm barrels through me. My seed shoots down her throat, the orgasm drawing out my pleasure, going on and on as my groans deepen and fracture from the force of my release. I pump into her like a madman, but Rebecca isn’t fazed. She drinks me up, swallows me down. Every. Last. Drop.

  When the aftershocks finally subside, she releases me with a wet pop. My legs are so shaky I have to lower myself to the floor. I look at Rebecca, at her flushed cheeks and slick mouth, her eyes so blue behind her glasses. She’s fucking beautiful, and that’s not the booze talking. She really is stunning in a way I never noticed before.

  As the silence stretches, neither of us willing to speak first, her gaze turns shy and she looks down, picking at a thread hanging from the end of her sleeve. “How was it?”

  I can’t help but laugh. This girl. “Rebecca.” Tilting her chin up with two fingers, I smile into her eyes. “You nearly killed me.” Our mouths touch, and we sink into one another. The kiss isn’t like the others. Sweet, gentle, asking rather than demanding. My chest shimmers with pleasant warmth.

  She smirks. “Well, good. I would be disappointed o
therwise.”

  Bathroom Guy bangs on the door. “I don’t fucking care if you’re having sex in there. Just let me take a shit. Please, for the love of God.”

  She blows a stray hair out of her face before tightening her ponytail. “Guess we should get dressed. Or rather, you should get dressed.” Her eyes slide down my naked body, lingering on my semi-hard dick before sliding back up to my face.

  Since I don’t want to be responsible for a guy shitting his pants, I change back into my clothes, and together, we exit the bathroom, moving aside so the drunk dude can charge past us and slam the door.

  Rebecca glances down the hall. “I should probably get going.”

  “You’re leaving? But you just got here.”

  Her eyes flicker. Guilt, possibly? I have no idea why. “I have a lot of work to do tomorrow. I don’t want to be too hungover.”

  My stomach sinks. It’s that same feeling I have on the field after I take a shot and I’m watching the arc of the ball, that perfect trajectory, my spirits lifting with the confidence that my aim is true—

  Before the goalie blocks it.

  Why do I feel this way? It’s like Rebecca said at the park—this was physical. No strings, just fun. But then why do I wish she’d stay? Why do I want to cozy up in a dark corner somewhere and have her curl up close?

  Grey’s Anatomy must be getting to me.

  Pushing aside the discontent, I ask, “You okay to drive?”

  “I’m fine.” And she does look fine. Her eyes are a clear, clear blue.

  I reach out and grab her wrist, my thumb brushing across the pulse point. “Let me walk you to your car.”

  She shifts out of reach, shaking her head. “That’s not necessary. I need to talk to Katie anyway, so it might be a while before I find her. I’ll see you next Monday, all right?”

  Monday. Right. The annual fundraiser, which raises money for charity. My dad will be there. Shaking hands and making deals, no doubt.

  “Sure.” I shove my hands into my pockets, since it’s obvious she wants some space. I wish that didn’t peeve me as much as it does. It’ll be over a week before I see her again. “Next Monday.”