Millie paused to catch her breath, but Ty didn’t dare interrupt. She’d said one of the magic words—nipples—and now she, Celeste, and Beck of the chiseled jaw officially had his undivided attention.
“Emboldened by the challenge in his stance, Celeste stepped out of the shadows and into the pool of orange-gold glow shed by the playground’s lone security light. Adding a sway to her step as she approached, she smiled. ‘A little late to be playing ball all by yourself.’
“He raised an eyebrow, rolled the ball out from under his arm, and held it aloft on the very tips of his fingers. ‘I was hoping someone would come out for a pickup game.’
“‘Aren’t you lucky I came along?’ When she was within striking distance, she nudged the ball from its perch. He didn’t stop her.
“‘What do you want, Ce?’
“Unintimidated by his gruff question, she stepped up, stopping only when they stood toe-to-toe. ‘Same thing I’ve always wanted, B. You.’”
“Christ, I want you,” Ty said, his voice much rougher and deeper than Millie’s imitation of a man teetering on the edge.
“Do you want to hear this story or not?”
“Tell me your story,” he countered. “Tell me what you’d want to do if you were Celeste.”
His voice cracked at the last, but he was beyond caring. His jeans were too tight. The shirt felt like a goddamn straitjacket. He’d go full-on Bruce Banner if he didn’t get out of them soon.
He popped the button on his pants for comfort’s sake, then set to work on getting out of the shirt. His breathing was ragged, big gusts of air blown directly into the phone as he yanked the tails of the shirt from his waistband. He made short work of the last buttons. The phone dropped into his lap as he yanked his arms from the sleeves, oblivious to the fancy cuff links he’d chosen to impress her. A growl of frustration rose from his throat when his arms got stuck. Fumbling through the bunched fabric for the fasteners, he spoke loudly enough to carry through the speaker.
“Does he have a shirt on? Or is good old Beck playing skins against himself?” One hand free, he grabbed the phone and tucked it back under his ear before setting to work on the other. “Because I’m almost out of my shirt, and soon I’ll be down to my skin too. Tell me what you’d do, Millie.”
“I’d have to touch you,” she said, her voice quiet and almost quivery. “Your chest. Damp and slick. Celeste has the right idea. I want to lick you like a lollipop every time I see you running around on the court.”
“Do you?”
“God yes.”
“And if we were all alone on a dark playground court? What do you think’s gonna happen, Mil? Is she going to take him home? Is he going to fuck her on the playground?”
“Oh yes.”
She moaned the words. But she couldn’t give in so easily. If she wanted to hold him off, then he’d play along. For now. As long as she told him the whole story. Her way.
“What happens? What do they do?” he prompted.
She drew a shaky breath, then exhaled in a rush. “Do? What else can she do? She’s gonna push him up against the fence.”
His chest tightened, and his heart skipped a beat. “And?” he managed to ask, expelling the last bit of oxygen he had left.
Millie didn’t answer right away. Damn if she wasn’t right. Anticipation crackled between them like a live wire. The wait was…unbearable. And unbelievably hot. He’d never figured he’d go for the delayed gratification thing, but then again, he never anticipated resorting to phone sex to get his rocks off.
While he was in Reno, sex by proxy seemed like a reasonable means to an end. Now that he was back and Millie was a scant few miles away, it felt like an exhibition game. Each move was meant to get them primed and ready for the real deal. Frustrating but sexy as hell.
“She’d pin him against the wires, using her body to press him into the shadow outside the ring of light.”
She hesitated, and he was quick to jump in with an encouraging, “Mm-hmm.” The last thing he needed was for her to leave him alone in the dark. Waiting. Wanting. He unzipped and hooked his thumbs into the waistband, waiting for her to toss the ball into the air so the game could begin for real. As expected, Millie didn’t disappoint.
“Then she’d sink to her knees, dragging those hideously baggy shorts down as she went.”
“You like the short shorts too, huh?” He shoved his jeans and boxers down, wincing when his painfully hard dick sprang loose. He’d have to hold off on touching himself. This woman set him off like a damn bottle rocket.
“Of course I do. What could be better than watching a bunch of guys with tight asses and long, muscular legs running and jumping?”
“Women’s beach volleyball.”
His prompt answer earned him a laugh. One of those husky, rumbling laughs that hit him low in his gut and reverberated through his entire body.
“To each his own,” she said, a chuckle coloring her words.
Time to stop pretending to be other people. He pressed on with only a subtle, but important, change in pronoun. “I’m up against the fence,” he reminded her as he pushed his jeans and briefs past his knees. “My baggy pants around my ankles.”
“Your fingers tangled up in the wires, your bare ass pressed against the cool metal,” she added.
“Ah, chain link. Anyone could see us, Millie.” He wrapped his hand around the base of his dick and squeezed. Hard. “Is that what you want? You want people to watch?”
“I’d get down on my knees,” she whispered. “The ground would be hard. Your cock too. But your skin is so soft.”
She trailed off into a whisper, but now his
