Game Night
"I can't believe I left that Triple Word Score open for you!"
"Leah," James said through laughter, "calm down, that was, like, six turns ago."
"Yeah, but that's what clinched your victory!" I was laughing too, playing up for effect my very real irritation at losing Scrabble. "I would have had you if not for that."
"Jesus Christ, you sure think a lot of yourself." He said it through a chuckle, still smiling as he leaned backward, his arms slightly behind him and his weight resting on his palms. The Scrabble board spread out between us where we sat on the floor.
"Nah, just a lot of my Scrabble skills." I pulled my knees into myself, hugging them to my body before picking up my beer and taking a long drink. A reflexive move: his pose right then sent an unexpected wave of desire through me. His slender, lithe form so relaxed, his hair falling over one of his crystalline blue eyes ... looking at him knocked the wind out of me.
Which was inconvenient, as we had decided after a brief fling months before that going back to a friends arrangement would be best for us. In fact, this was the first time we'd spent alone together since that decision. It wasn't easy playing it cool when I knew what I knew. How adept his fingers were, what a sweet kisser he was, the way he pulled the hair at the nape of my neck when he was moving inside of me...
Needing to ease the tension building inside of me, I picked up a Scrabble tile from the board and aimed it at him.
"Hey!" he said with mock indignation as it pinged against his temple and fell to the floor.
"Sorry," I said with a smile and a shrug, "I'm a sore loser."
"I'll say," James muttered slyly under his breath as he brought his own beer to his lips. His eyes didn't leave mine as he drank.
Warmth exploded in me with the eye contact. Was there really electricity crackling between us, or was I inventing the heat of his hand brushing against mine as we started clearing the tiles from the game board? I had to be falling back into the familiar trappings of my relentless crush on him--wouldn't we still be together if this intensity was mutual? The fiery need in me wanted to push forward and test the bounds, see if there was still chemistry. But that was a bad idea. We'd been down this road already.
On my knees, I scooped up tiles and put them into the little drawstring bag he was holding when I noticed him looking at the picture my low-slung shirt made while I bent over the game board. My modest breasts were pushed up and accentuated by a few undone buttons. A necklace hung down between them, an undeniable trail for the eyes. I felt heat roil under my skin. Maybe not
all
of me was convinced this was a bad idea.
James's eyes took their time raking back upward to meet mine. We were close, and as our eyes locked I could see the pale dusting of freckles across his nose.
"You know," I said, keeping my voice casual but having an idea where this sentence might end up, "I'm thinking I might be too competitive to use game night as a way to de-stress." I had folded the game board in two and started moving toward the couch. I settled onto it, one leg tucked underneath me. The light linen of my shorts rode up, exposing more of my thighs.
James joined me. The look on his face as we faced each other on the couch was playful, devilish. A smile was starting to form at the corners of his mouth, but I could tell he was suppressing it. It was those little wrinkles on the bridge of his nose--they always showed up when James was trying to rein himself in. The idea that he was having to control himself had me dripping with need. I wanted to shatter that control.
There was no hesitation as he put a warm, large hand on my upper thigh. "I had actually forgotten that your stressful week at work was why you wanted a game night," he said. He scooted closer to me. Even this small movement had my pussy responding, throbbing.
I moved closer, which pushed his hand further up, his fingers now under the hem of my shorts.
"Of course, why else would I ask you over here--" his hand moved further up, now grabbing at my ass under my shorts and meeting no resistance from the thong I was wearing, "--if not for some innocent, stress-relieving fun?" As I spoke, I was wrapping the leg that had been tucked under me around him, which brought our hips even closer together, our faces an inch apart.
"However," I said, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a gasp as he grabbed my ass tighter with one hand and clutched at my waist with the other, "I think I need a different hobby to help me relax." I dropped my voice to a whisper so I wouldn't betray the tremble of desperate need buried there, and wound my hands into his hair.
"Yeah, I think so, too," he said in a low voice with a hint of a grumble in it that shook my core. "What do you think about this?" Feeling his mouth move against mine was such a relief. I'd been so hungry for this from the second we parted after our last kiss months ago, and now I just wanted to devour him.
He tasted like cigarettes, and I couldn't get enough of it. Kissing him like this--this wild, needy passion interrupted by each of us forcing temperance--was like the burnt end of one of his Marlboros screaming into a blaze inside of me. I moaned against his mouth and pushed myself against him, grinding my hips on his. I could feel him getting harder in his jeans as I reveled in his warm, soft tongue against my own.
The tangle of our legs felt so intimate, I couldn't help but flash back to the first time we ever fucked--tangled up in the bedsheets after a day of watching movies. It had been so spontaneous that night, so unexpected. Despite a desperate crush on him, I was taken aback when his hand had reached up to my cheek. When it had unhesitatingly pushed my hair behind my ear. When his eyes moved from my own down to my lips. When he closed the space between us, muttering, "Is this ok?" against my mouth, leaving me to brush my lips against his. His mouth had tasted like whiskey that night. Every one of his movements--his throaty moans into my ear, his warm and wet tongue drinking my pussy in, his thick cock teasing its way into me--burned itself into my memory. The craving I had for him hadn't waned in the slightest.
I was ushered back into this moment as I felt James' hand under my shorts, pushing my panties aside. He ran a finger along my soaking lips, barely teasing my entrance.
"Jesus, Leah, you are so wet," he said in a low, breathless voice.
