This Round I'm Yours (5 page)

Lace choked. “March—”

“Lock the door, Wyndham.”

Noooooooo.

“Now.”

Even as she cursed him in her mind, she found herself doing what he asked. When she was back in her seat, she said, “Done.” Her tone was half-helpless, half-hateful, and both feelings increased at his low, sexy chuckle.

“If I remember correctly,” Silver mused, “your office has no blinds, right? So people can see through it?”

“Yes. And that’s why—”

“You have to do everything behind your desk.”

Noooooo.

“Have you changed into sweatpants yet?”

“N-no. I’m still wearing my jeans…”

Silver tsk-tsked. “Get out of those.”

“March, don’t do…”

“Out of it competely, you understand? I don’t want them pooled around your ankles.” His voice had become gentler but more persuasive, a command wrapped in velvet.

She was not going to do this. She was crazy to do this. She was…going to do it.

“D-done.”

“Then…wide open now, my beautiful. As wide open as you can.”

She did as asked, and with each inch she forced her legs to open wider, she could feel herself getting wetter and wetter.
 

“Are you wet now, my love?”

“Yes.” A whimper she couldn’t keep to herself escaped.

“Good.” Silver’s voice was a little harsher now, and the sound of it made her whimper again.

“I’m naked now, little lamb. What do you want me to do?”

“T-touch yourself.”

“How?” he persisted.

“L-like I do.” Her eyes closed, and the picture was so vividly clear – of Silver naked in a hotel room, lying on the bed, his hand on his cock – and a cry escaped her.

Through the phone, Silver groaned.

She moaned.

“I’m touching myself now,” Silver rasped. “Like you touch me. So I want you to do the same. Touch yourself like I do. Start with your folds.”

Slowly, her fingers found herself, and she tried to do what Silver did, drawing a straight line against her folds, slowly, caressingly. Even as her breathing became erratic, she kept it slow, even if it was making her heart beat hard and her body ache painfully. Because that was how Silver liked to make love to her, torturing her with desire before—

“My hand…on my cock…is moving faster now.”

Lace bit her lip hard, not wanting to accidentally scream. If she did, she would sure to be heard outside, locked door notwithstanding.

“I want your hand
inside
your panties now.”

“O-okay.” She slipped her fingers inside and could have wept at how her skin swelled at the mere brush of contact.

“Push one finger in, sweetheart.”

She hesitated, having never pleasured herself this way before. “I…”

“It’s going to be okay.” Silver’s voice was hoarse. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I d-do.” And so she pushed one finger in…

Oh. Oh God oh.
 

Her head slumped against the desk as her finger went all the way in. She felt her legs stretching, as if her body wanted to open itself completely so her finger could move even deeper.

“Fuck yourself with your fingers now, baby. Do it like I fuck you.”

This time, she didn’t think twice. This time, she didn’t even
think.
 

Her finger went in and out, slowly at first then harder, deeper, and her eyes squeezed shut. Over the phone, she heard the sloshing sounds becoming louder and knew he was stroking himself hard as well. The thought of it had her whimpering, and she realized just one finger wasn’t enough.

“
March.
” She moaned his name like she was begging.

“Fist yourself then. One finger won’t ever be like my cock.”

“
F-fist myself?”

“All four fingers, sweetheart.
Now.
”

She tried it one at a time. Two fingers. Thrust it in, and found that it wasn’t enough. Three fingers made her start to feel tight, deliciously so, but after a few thrusts, it just wasn’t enough.

And so the last finger went inside, and she was finally full, her folds stretching almost the way they did when it was Silver’s cock inside of her.

Silver growled, “I’m close now so you have to do it hard, as hard as you can…”

She fisted herself as hard as she could, trying to go deeper and harder with each thrust.

“I’m fucking close now…”

Lace moaned, his dirty talk never failing to push her ever so close to the edge.

“Use your other hand, sweetheart. Touch your clit. Press hard…”

She did as asked, her middle finger finding her clit, a long moan escaping her as she pressed hard.

“Come now!”

She fisted herself and played with her clit, and her orgasm exploded out of nowhere.

She gasped, her eyes rolling back behind her eyelids, her entire body stiffening as she came in huge waves of pleasure. Over the phone she heard Silver roaring as he came as well, and the sound of him stroking himself into a frenzy made her moan and press harder on her clit, prolonging her orgasm until she ended up slumped down on the desk, completely exhausted.

Over the phone, she heard Silver ask, “Do you need me to fly back?”

A tear slipped down.

God. Why was he so irritatingly perfect? Why did he seem to have a sixth sense when it came to sensing when she was in trouble?

She remembered Aria and KC’s words.
 

“I—” Her phone vibrated at an incoming message, cutting her off.

“Wyndham?” Silver asked when she got back.

Could she risk Silver finding out about how stupid she had been in the past?

She said dully, “I’m…good.” Swallowing back a painful sob, she said, “But March?”

“What is it?” His voice was sharp with worry.

“Hurry back, okay?”

She ended the call before he could answer. On her way out, she almost stepped on her lucky coin. She bent down to pick it up, but her hand froze mid-air when she realized what she was staring at.

Heads. Tell Silver about it.

Bad Thoughts

Lace would never admit it to anyone, would rather have people think she had been fooled by his looks. Six-foot-three, dark brown hair, green eyes, and a winsome smile.

She would rather people thought he had turned her head around because of his wholesome All-American image.
Boy Scout childhood, varsity since he hit six feet in his pre-teens, and a family well-known for their charitable endeavors.

Lace would rather people thought anything but the truth, which was that she had let her guard down because his name was
Grant.

Like…
Grant Hill.

The most gentlemanly player that ever lived.

Ever.

When she had found out Northwest’s team captain was named Grant as well, her mind went la-la-la. By the time she realized she had been wrong about him, it was too late. He had her number, and life as she had known it was over.

“You’ve gotten much more beautiful,” Grant said huskily as he stood up at her approach. He was dressed like he always did, crew neck shirt, jeans, and of course his varsity jacket. Grant was the type of guy who felt naked without his jacket and signet ring.

There were only a few other patrons around, which was exactly why she had selected the place. It was a little-known Italian restaurant, with dark interiors and tinted windows. More importantly than that, it was located far away from anyone who could possibly know her…
and
Silver.

She didn’t make a fuss when he pulled out the chair for her. “Thanks.” Lace said. The less fuss, the better. She had learned that the hard way.
 

When they were both seated, she called for the waiter immediately and gave her order. She needed food to get her brain cells to work. And they better work right now because she couldn’t afford to have this meeting end badly.
 

“Just your house salad and lemonade, no sugar,” Grant said.

Never trust a man who didn’t eat meat.
She had always thought that, and Grant was proof of it.

Seeing her eyes on him, he said with a smile, “I missed you a lot, Lacey baby. We had good times, didn’t we?”

Good times
, Lace thought incredulously. They probably seemed that way on the surface, but both of them knew it hadn’t ever been so, not after she had found out the truth.

She remembered what was probably one of his so-called good times, of her joking around with him in the dugouts after practice.
“Yes, I’d date you. With you as my boyfriend, I’d probably make it to coach status in no time.”

The words ended up haunting her, Grant’s recording of it one of the threats he held over her head.

Her fists clenched in her lap. She wanted to overturn the table, throw her glass of water on his face, and scream at him for being the worst scum on earth. She really wanted to do it, but then the waiter came, a reminder that she
had
to be sane.

For her new life, for her boys, for Silver, she had to do this right.

When the waiter was done serving their food, Lace dug in immediately, hoping it would dissuade him from bringing up more “good” times.

Every time he tried to speak, she would immediately stuff her mouth full with whatever was within reach. Dinner roll, steak, mashed potato, clam chowder, crème brulee. Unfortunately, they could only last for so long. Even with her stomach groaning, she started to call for the waiter, determined to eat until she died choking.
 

“Lacey—”

She waved her hand at a nearby waiter, trying not to be desperate. “Excuse me?” When someone finally noticed her, Lace almost expired in relief.

But the feeling was short-lived. As a waiter headed her way, Grant said in a hard voice, “I still have your video on my phone, you know.”

Oh God, not that.

She waved the waiter away desperately.

“I watch it several times a day. I love hearing your hands run over —”

The waiter came to their table anyway. “What may I help—”

“No, none, please go away.”
 

The waiter threw her an odd look before bowing stiffly and leaving. When he was out of earshot, she hissed, “How could you?”

“How could I what?” he asked, still smiling. “Pleasure myself while watching you in the shower?”

“You’re sick!”
 

“Why…how?” She stared at her naked self on the phone, taking so damn long to shower because she was an idiot. An idiot, she thought with self-revulsion.

“My shower, my rules.”

Her head jerked up, a thousand words of recrimination brimming on her lips. But when she saw Grant’s eyes, she knew it was pointless.

“You’re sick.” She saw it now, what she was too caught up with the excitement of her new life to see. What she had been too scared to see. His mood swings, his bursts of violence, his tendency to stare at her for far too long, longer than what was normal.

“Grant—”

“Don’t look at me like that!”

“Get rid of the video. Of the recording. I’ll pretend this never happened—”

“And what? You’ll pretend you don’t love me, too?”

“I never did,” she cried out.

“Liar! What about the times you told me I’m your number one—”

“You are my number one. You’re my best player, but that’s it!”

“And the hours you spend with me almost every night, letting me feel your body—”