Don't You Dare (Reckless Games #1)

by C.E. Ricci

“Hey, Pen. Don’t you dare?” Though I know I shouldn’t, especially with how things turned out last time he asked me that question, I turn around and arch a brow. But I’m not prepared for the shit about to come out of his mouth. A deadly smirk sits on his lips when he says, “I dare you to think of me when you fuck her tonight.”

As expected, Avery makes another comment, but I’m too busy watching Pen’s bloodshot eyes roll so hard, I wanna smack him upside the damn head just to see if they get stuck like that.

Those thoughts are quickly put to rest when his hand cups my jaw and he breaks away to nip at the skin there. “Goddamnit, Kee. What’re we doing?” he mutters against my jaw before taking my mouth with his again. This time, it’s him who thrusts his tongue in my mouth, making it impossible to think. “I don’t know,” I breathe into his lips, shaking my head as I grind down against him. The groan it elicits from both of us is intoxicating. “Just don’t stop.”

“You’ll tell me what you like? Or if I’m bad at it?” I murmur while sliding off the mattress and to my knees between his thighs.

“If you keep looking at it like that, I’m gonna come before you even get your mouth on me.”

A soft chuckle floats through the phone as he tips his head back, closing his eyes and letting the water rinse his hair. My mouth goes dry watching the suds slide down his toned torso, coating his tanned skin with bubbles. Even through the tiny phone screen, I feel like I’m there with him. Seeing it in real time.

I’m transfixed by his cock, the way he strokes it. Rolls over the head on every third upstroke. Fuck, even when he’s prepping his dick, his slight obsessive compulsive tendencies have a way of coming out. I don’t know why my noticing makes this even...hotter. But I’m scorching.

“Yours, huh? Never took you for the possessive one. You jealous of my hand?” Yes. I want it to be my mouth.

“You. Are. Mine. You belong to me and me alone.”

“I want that,” he pants, his head lulling back against the wall with his eyes closed. “I want that.”

Still, there’s no way he’s awake right now. Which means he left it on for me. I try not to focus too much on how that realization sends my stomach into more somersaults and fucking backflips.

If he asks me to stop, I will. I’ll get up and go for a run to clear my head. Do my best to forget the sting of rejection from the one person on this Earth I’m not equipped to handle it from.

I’ve seen Keene’s baseball injuries up close and personal before. None of them have ever looked like this. “This is just from a ball?” I whisper. He winces when I brush over where the skin is raised, the area clearly more sensitive than the rest of the injury.

“I’ve been hit by a pitch plenty of times. You’ve seen it in person, you’ve watched it on TV. It’s part of the game.” Yeah, but your body wasn’t mine any other time this has happened.

“Mmm,” he mumbles, leaning in to kiss me softly. Sensually. Achingly fucking slow.

The problem is...I’m not tired anymore. Definitely not by a long shot when Keene’s hand reaches behind him, searching blindly for a moment before it comes in contact with my fingers. His own wrap around them and he tugs, pulling my body into his back, not letting go until he’s got us spooning. Him being the little spoon.

I kiss freckle after freckle peppered over his back and shoulders. I’ve become even more obsessed with them since we’ve started exploring each other’s bodies, especially the ones dotting his collarbone and tops of his shoulders. Connecting them with kisses rather than ink from a marker like I wanted to do as a kid.

But it’s not enough. Nothing with him ever is, and the thought alone is terrifying.

“Whatever you want,” I murmur. “I’ll give you whatever you want, Kee.”

From his pinched features and the way his neck is corded and strained, that’s the last thing he needs right now. My hand glides up and down his good side, the other anchoring in his hair. “Breathe, baby. Relax some more. We can stop if you need to.” Even if I combust into a million tiny pieces, I’ll stop.

“I’ll never hurt you,” he murmurs, teeth scraping against my shoulder. “I’d rather die.”

Not that I wasn’t already admiring how good he looks right now. Eyeblack smear beneath his eyes, his catcher’s helmet sitting backward on his head. And hell if he doesn’t fill out his uniform to damn near perfection. “Stop looking at me like that,” he snaps softly, capping the bottle and setting it on the roof of the dugout.

“So you can fuck me, but you can’t date me? Is that what it means when you say you can’t?” I snarl, poison coursing through my veins. “You’re willing to take everything I have to offer you, but heaven forbid you give me a damn thing in return, right?”

“Would you?” he murmurs, forehead resting against mine. “Beg for it?”