Game For Love: Love Games (Kindle Worlds)

by Mara Jacobs

  “Marlee,” he said softly. Almost so softly that she didn’t hear him. “Are you sure?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes. It only seems fair that you hold one too. I could be a crazy stalker fan whose whole goal this week was to get you having sex on tape and then sell it to the tabloids.”

  His laughter was deep and rich and she smiled up at him. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “You sure played me, then.”

  It felt good to banter with him again, the tension of today drifting away. He nodded to her large TV. “Do you have a hook up to stream from your laptop to the TV?” She nodded, feeling a little nervous about the upcoming featured attraction. But this was truly a now-or-never situation if she wanted to view it with Declan.

  She put her drive back into the USB port while Declan slid his into the front pocket of his jeans. She clicked a few things to get the streaming set up and then she appeared on the TV screen—looking at Declan as he walked toward where she leaned against the desk in the studio.

  “Come on,” he said from behind her. She rose from her chair and he took her hand, leading her to the leather recliner and, after seating himself, settling Marlee upon his lap.

  He put the footstool of the recliner out and put the back down just a little so he could slide Marlee from his lap to the vee of his spread thighs, her bottom cradled by his crotch, his long thighs on the outside of hers. He pulled her taut body to him so her back lay upon his chest. She had changed into sweats and a long-sleeve T-shirt when she got home, and the material was soft and clingy against her quickly heating skin.

  She lay back and watched the tape. It was moving quickly, just as Marlee and Declan had that first time on the desk. When the Marlee on screen told Declan she wanted him to take her hard and fast, the Marlee in Declan’s arms gasped and flung her hands to her face as if to cover her embarrassment.

  Declan instantly began to stroke her neck and back, and his arm reached around to pull her hands from her face. She was reluctant, but he persisted.

  “Don’t be embarrassed, baby. It was wonderful. You made me so hard when you said that. Look at my face there. God, I’m ready to eat you up.”

  She raised her eyes to look at the TV again. Sure enough, Declan looked like a man possessed. It gave her a tiny rush to see what she did to him, and her body relaxed. Declan felt it and tried to get her more comfortable. “You know, you lied to me, Marlee.”

  As she turned her head to his face to see what he meant, he gently took the back of her neck and pressed her head forward again.

  “Just watch, I’ll talk. You like it when I talk during sex.” He gave her a tiny squeeze. “Yep, you lied to me about your sisters. You said they were much prettier than you. Now, I could accuse you of being coy and fishing for compliments, but you wouldn’t even know how to go about doing that, would you, professor?”

  Marlee shook her head, her hair brushing along the bottom of Declan’s chin. On screen, Declan had gotten Marlee’s jeans off by now and was putting on a condom, readying to take Marlee as she lay across the desk, her arms outstretched for Declan.

  “No, I didn’t think that was your style. So, I came to the conclusion that you have no idea how beautiful you are. How sexy, how hot you can be. Look at that, Marlee. Look at your face as I enter you, God, there isn’t a woman alive more beautiful than you right there.”

  She knew he could hear her swallow. It was more of a gulp, and it brought her head back with a force that almost banged Declan’s chin. In his arms, all the tension in her body released and it was if she had turned from steel to jelly in an instant. He cuddled her closer and dipped his head so he could nuzzle her neck and be right at her ear as he whispered to her.

  “You see, it didn’t take me long once I was inside you, Marlee. I probably shouldn’t admit to that…” They both let out a low chuckle. “But it’s like that with you, Marlee. As soon as I’m inside you and I feel you pulling on me, wanting me, clenching around me…I’m lost. You do that to me.” On the TV, Declan reached his climax, lifting his head, almost in agony, shuddering deeply and calling Marlee’s name.

  She had been there, had been beneath him as he’d climaxed, seen him do it, yet watching the effect she had on him left her in awe. Seeing Declan drive into her in front of her while hearing his sexy whispers and feeling his muscled chest behind her was making Marlee’s head spin. It was also making her very aroused. It was a natural instinct to want to burrow herself into Declan.

  She wiggled her fanny, scooched herself up so she was tight against him and wasn’t surprised to feel his erection, already hard and long, against her.

  His arms that had been wrapped around her upper arms, afraid she would bolt, loosened. One dropped to her tummy and began a light, feathery, circular motion. The other hand swooped her hair off her neck and to one side of her head, freeing her neck for his mouth. His hand then landed on her upper thigh. It seemed to burn through the light cotton of her sweatpants.

  Marlee began to rub her bottom against Declan. His lips nibbled on her neck, with tenderness, not his usual ferocity. They continued to watch the screen, transfixed by the images in front of them.

  On the TV, they were cleaning themselves up now. Collecting clothes, giving each other sly glances, Marlee even giggling. Declan turned down the volume of the TV completely, with only his voice to invade Marlee’s senses.

  “God, I love when I can make you giggle. I love all the sounds I get from you.”

  Marlee let out a soft moan of agreement. She watched as Sex Tape Declan made his way to the camera as Marlee finished righting her sweater. He had his eye on that sweater all day, she recalled.

  The screen went blank and Marlee started to move, but Declan stilled her. “Wait.”

  She started to turn in his arms, but Declan’s movements made her stop. He took the hand from her tummy and put it under her shirt, against her trembling skin. He held his hand there, not moving it, as if to hold in place. There was a small gap of space and then the TV filled with the scene from yesterday, when they were on the chairs. The arousal Marlee had felt just a moment ago watching them have fast and furious sex on the desk paled in comparison with what she felt as she watched her give herself to the man she loved.

  Nearly mimicking the action on the TV, Declan’s hands were everywhere on her now, but still so slowly. One hand was cradling a breast over the satin cups of her bra, kneading her sensitive skin, feeling the nipple become rigid, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. The other hand slid in her sweatpants, past her panties to find her already swollen and throbbing.

  “You see why I wanted us to make this tape? I can feel how wet it makes you to watch us, Marlee.” He slipped a finger inside her and there was no doubt that his words were true. Her passage was slick and hot with her juices. Her breath caught and she ground herself against his jeans.

  They continued to watch the tape as Declan made love to Marlee with his fingers. She reached behind her and, after some fumbling, freed Declan’s pulsing erection from his jeans. In an instant she was stroking him, clasping him hard, her hands behind her back to reach him, which only pushed her breasts out more for his hand.

  “Look at your face, Marlee. See what we do to each other.” He hesitated, seemed to debate how far to go. “See what I do to you. Watch how hard you come for me, Marlee. For me.”

  She was so close, both in his arms and on the TV. He lifted the fingers inside of her and brushed his thumb hard across her swollen nub. “Watch yourself come apart as you come in my arms. Watch it, Marlee. Feel it. Feel me. Me, making you come. Only me, Marlee. Only me.”

  As if she were synchronized with her onscreen self, Marlee threw her head back and her whole body convulsed as her orgasm tore through her. Declan’s fingers never stilled, making her rise again almost immediately. “See, Marlee. Look at your face. See how hard you come, like you are right now. It’s so good, baby. It nearly makes me spill, myself, just watching you get there.”

  Her mind was slowly
coming back into focus. Declan’s throbbing penis was still in her grasp but she had stopped stroking, her attention riveted to the TV. On the tape she and Declan had been flammable in the deep chair—you could see the vulnerability on each of their faces, but that was nothing new; they had been looking into each other’s eyes the whole time. There was nothing to hide.

  She was just about to turn herself around and take Declan in her mouth when something on the screen stopped her.

  Declan was walking to the camera, just like he had after their earlier coupling. This time, because they were at the talk-show set, the camera was angled differently, and not only could you see Declan walking toward the camera, you could see Marlee behind him. She was watching Declan move with a look of a love in her eyes that was obvious to read. Declan, having had his back to her as he’d gone to the camera, hadn’t seen that look. He’d never seen that look in Marlee’s eyes.

  It was hunger and passion and appreciation and—undoubtedly—love.

  The love, the vulnerability, was written all over her face, plain for all to see. Plain for Declan to see. She heard him gasp and tighten behind her. She could only imagine what he was feeling. Here was a man who had just videotaped himself and his week-long fling having sex, and here she was all moony-eyed behind him, shooting looks of love at his back, as if she were Cupid and could pierce his heart.

  She was humiliated and embarrassed and she hoped that if she turned and put her mouth on Declan that he’d forget what he’d just seen.

  As she tried to turn, he held her in place, and whispered in her ear, “Did you ever look at Justin Jones like that?”

  Marlee’s body froze in his arms and Declan instantly knew he’d fucked up.

  She released his hard cock, which slightly deflated at the loss of contact. She scooted forward, then turned around to face him.

  “Just what do you know about me and Justin?”

  “Nothing from you, that’s for sure. But I spent some time in here last night googling the shit out of the both of you. Pretty interesting reading.”

  It had crushed him, seeing the photos of a happy Marlee with Jones’s arm wrapped around her. It had been two years ago and seemed to have lasted several months. There were some old gossip site entries about their breakup due to Jones’s womanizing.

  “If you saw anything about us at all online then you know that he was unfaithful to me. That he broke my trust, over and over.”

  “And you’re punishing me for his sins. You do know that all professional athletes don’t cheat on their partner, right?”

  “Of course I do.”

  She was so close, her face just a movement away from his. He should just stop right now and kiss her. But he couldn’t. The week of trying to prove to her that they had so much in common had been a lost cause from the beginning.

  Because some fucker that also happened to be a professional athlete had broken her trust and then broken her heart.

  “Cole and Anna. You think he’s out cheating on her?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure what point he was trying to make.

  “No, of course not.”

  “I know a ton of players that are completely faithful to their wives or girlfriends. We’re not all Justin Jones, you know.”

  “I know,” she said quietly. And with not a lot of conviction.

  “Are you still in love with him?”

  She reared back like he’d hit her. “What? No. Why would you even think that?”

  “Because you didn’t mention him.”

  “Did you share every relationship with me?”

  “The important ones, yeah.”

  “That’s why the aggressive behavior in bed last night, wasn’t it? It was after you’d been online. You were…what? Trying to stake your claim?”

  “Are you saying he still has some kind of hold on you? Some sort of claim?”

  “What? Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “So why didn’t you ever mention him?”

  She stood now, stepped away from the chair. “Are you kidding me?”

  Her clothes were in disarray from where his hands had been on her. Even furious, she was still sexy as hell. It didn’t help that his cock noticed it too and hardened once again.

  Looking down at him, she easily noticed his growing cock, and threw her hands up as if in dismay. “Unbelievable. This gets you hard. Well, I guess I really shouldn’t have expected adult behavior from someone who plays a game for a living!”

  For Declan, it was the final nail, and the lid of his relationship with Marlee closed on the coffin. He rose out of the chair, zipped up, and started to walk from the room. At the doorway he turned back. He knew she heard him stop, but she didn’t turn to face him, just kept staring at the screen of her laptop.

  “I tried to make you see, Marlee—all week long I tried. But you refuse to see. Refuse to see, or refuse to let go of your image of pro athletes because of Justin fucking Jones. Either way….it’s both our losses.” She didn’t turn around, but Declan knew she heard every word.

  He slept in the guest room that night. He’d wanted to go to a hotel, but that would have meant going into Marlee’s room to pack up his stuff, and she had barricaded herself in there. He’d gone to the kitchen from the den to cool off for a moment. He was going to go back and try to talk to her about it. Get her to open up about being hurt by Justin Jones, and what that did to her perception of Declan. But when he went back, she wasn’t in the den, but her bedroom door was closed, and that pissed him off all over again. Declan didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knocking on the door, begging to be let in, even if was only to pack his bags and leave. No, let her stew in there, wondering what he was doing.

  He was doing nothing but cursing himself for being a fool. First for torturing himself with the pictures online of Justin and Marlee together. What had he been thinking? And secondly for even bringing it up to Marlee. If she didn’t want him knowing about her relationship with the ball player, then he should have just left it the hell alone.

  Well, ultimately, he’d ended up at the same place he was before, with her unwilling to see beyond this week and him trying to get her to see past it.

  He felt exhausted, as if he’d spent all week running in circles.

  In a way, he guessed he had.

  Marlee spent the night in agony. She waited for Declan to come into the bedroom. Even if he was leaving early, he needed to come in here to get his stuff. She could hear him downstairs and then in the guest room, and she figured that was where he was spending the night. Part of her was relieved and part was in despair.

  She really wasn’t that upset about him bringing up Justin. No, it was the look of raw devotion that had shone on her face, unbeknownst to Declan, that had set her off. She didn’t want him to know that, of course. She was mortified that he’d even seen it. She couldn’t make it worse by drawing attention to it. So she had worked herself into a justified snit about his perceived jealousy over Justin.

  She huddled under the covers, still in her clothes, wishing Declan was with her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Aaaannnddd cut. Great, Declan, that was just great. I think that’s all we need…that one’s a keeper.” The director was a recent NYU grad that the public relations firm had hired to tape all their clients’ audition tapes. He was young and arty with a goatee and an earring, but Declan had come to like him in the three days they had worked together. He had some good tips for Declan and had really put him at ease, allowing him to get some good stuff on tape.

  The kid handed a flash drive to Declan. It was a customized drive with a crazy design that Declan had seen the kid use on his business cards and was stenciled on his bag. Must be his insignia or trademark or something quirky that Declan didn’t get. Artists. And they said jocks were weird.

  Well, maybe only Marlee said that.

  The thought of Marlee hit him like a nose tackle with an axe to grind, just as it had every time he’d thought of her since Sunday. Oh, they’d
been polite enough his last morning, leaving each other alone in Marlee’s room to each pack their things one at a time, even muddling around the kitchen getting coffee. But it was tense, and there was no mention of the tape, and no mention of them seeing each other again.

  Damn. He was so close. He knew she hadn’t been pissed about him bringing up Justin, not really. Not until the end. Something had turned, and damned if he could figure it out. Maybe that was the problem—he thought he could figure Marlee out. No fucking way.

  He took the flash drive from the director. “Thanks for all your work, Rowdy. I feel pretty good about the tape. I just want to take it back to the hotel and watch it again, maybe compare it to the ones I made last week in Boston, see if I’ve improved.”

  “Well, whatever you did there last week worked, because you were ready on Monday. It was just nice we had some time to polish a few things. Okay, well, your agent has made arrangements for a courier to pick up the drive from your hotel this afternoon. It’ll go to a tech place that will burn DVDs and then deliver them to ABC, CBS, NBC, FOX, and ESPN by three so they have time to look at them. It’s my understanding that your agent has you booked back to back tomorrow and Friday with them all, right?”

  “Yep. I meet with the first one at ten tomorrow morning, then a late lunch with another, the same on Friday with the other two, then I go to Connecticut late Friday to meet with ESPN.”

  “Well, the tape’s ready, Declan, so it’s up to you now.”

  “Thanks again, Rowdy, it was a pleasure working with you.”

  “You too. Now that we’re done and I don’t have to direct you anymore, I don’t mind telling you that you’re my hero. I’ve thought you were the greatest for years. I was so thrilled when I found out I was going to work with you.” The kid’s face lit up as he spoke.

  Declan smiled and thanked the kid, thanked the entire crew, and went back to his hotel, shaking his head in amusement and frustration.

  See, Marlee, everybody loves football players. Even artists. Everyone but you.