Anything He wants

JACE

“What?” I ask, convinced I’ve heard her wrong. It’s damn near impossible to think with all the blood pooling in my painfully hard cock, but I force myself to listen as she repeats herself.

“I want to put my cherry in the pot,” she says, looking nervous and adorable and sexy as fuck. The ultimate temptation. My best friend’s daughter, the woman I’ve been obsessed with since she turned eighteen, and the woman I swore to myself I wouldn’t touch.

Well, I guess I fucked that up when I had my tongue tangled up with hers in the driveway, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to fuck her. I can’t. It would be wrong on just about every level. There’s no denying how badly I want to, though. God, just knowing she’s a virgin is driving me fucking crazy, and for the first time since I was a kid, I nearly fumble the cards in my hands.

“I try like hell to not show how tempted I am to take her up on this deflowering offer. “You know damn good and well you’ve never beaten me at cards, Syd, so this hardly seems fair.”

She gives me a smug smile that has me slightly worried. “That’s why

I’m picking the game.”

“I’m guessing you aren’t going to pick poker.”

She laughs and takes the deck of cards from me, trailing her fingers over my hands as she does so and making my cock strain even harder against my jeans. Fuck, I can’t even remember the last time I was covered in this much precum. I haven’t been able to touch another woman since my feelings for Sydney started to surface, and I realize now what a disadvantage it’s put me at. I’m desperate to fuck her, sick to death of just jerking off to fantasies about her, and now I’m horny as fuck and having a hard time focusing on anything.

“We’re going to play Go Fish,” she says.

I laugh, expecting her to join in, but she doesn’t. She just sits there looking insanely beautiful with her long, dark hair brushing her shoulders and her hard nipples poking through her thin shirt. A vivid memory of her rosy nipples poking against the lace of her bra flashes through my mind before I can stop it, causing me to nearly bust a fucking nut like a goddamn teenager.

“Oh, and whenever one of us gets a set, the other has to take off a piece of clothing.”

“So strip Go Fish as well as a cherry popping?” “Yep,” she says, giving me a huge grin.

“So all I have to do is lose?”

She smirks at me. Sydney knows me better than any other person alive, and she knows how much I hate to lose.

“If you don’t want to fuck me, then, yes, all you have to do is lose and I’ll win the pot, keeping my poor virgin pussy just as it is. You know,” she says, starting to deal the cards out, “I may beat you without you throwing the game, which would have my plan backfiring. I wouldn’t have stood a chance with poker, but, not to toot my own horn, I’m pretty damn good at Go Fish. Then I guess I’ll have to go back upstairs with my virgin pussy and fuck myself while I think about you, just like I’ve been doing every fucking night.”

I groan and scrub a hand over my face at her words. I’ve got to get control of myself. I’m seconds away from just bending her over the damn table and popping her cherry while she screams my name and bucks those small hips against me. All I have to do is lose, I remind myself. Cards are what I’m good at. I’ve made it my life, and I’ve done pretty damn good. Now, all I have to do is throw the game, something I’ve never done in my entire life. Just the idea of it pisses me off. But if I don’t win, then the pot, or cherry as it is, stays with Sydney, and there’s no denying how much I hate that idea, too.

When she’s dealt out the cards, she spreads the others in the middle and we both look at our hands. It’s been a long time since I’ve played this, but the rules come back to me quickly. I scan my cards, not seeing a complete set of anything, and when I look up, Sydney’s green eyes are lit up with amusement.

“Do you have any threes?”

“Damn it,” I mutter and hand her over my three clubs.

She lays out four threes and says, “Shirt off, Jace.”

I don’t even bother arguing. Instead, I set my cards down and tear my T-shirt off, setting it on the table next to me. I’m not too proud to admit that I do feel a smug sense of happiness when Sydney runs her eyes over me like a starving woman. She bites her bottom lip and squirms a bit in her chair.

“Your turn,” I remind her, giving her a wink when she finally manages to tear her eyes from my pecs. I may be more than twice her age, but I’ve taken damn good care of myself and it shows.

We continue playing. My mind keeps track of every card I see without me even having to try. I’ve always been able to remember what’s been played, what hasn’t been played yet, and what cards my opponent is most likely holding. It’s a skill I’ve put to good use over the years.

When I lay down a set of eights,” I give her a smug grin and say, “Shirt off, Syd.”

She lets out an honest-to-god giggle and tosses her shirt aside like she’s been dying to do it all night. I grip my cards hard enough to make my hand ache as my eyes run over her perky, full tits. Why the fuck didn’t I ask her to take off a sock? Now I’m being tortured by the sight of her rockhard nipples straining against the black lace of her bra and the hungry look she’s giving me. Well done, Jace, well-fucking-done.

When I lay down another full set, I eye her, wondering how far I’m willing to take this. The rational part of my brain is screaming, Sock! Pick sock, you idiot!, but the primal part of me, the part that she’s so damn good at bringing out is saying, Don’t you fucking dare blow this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Tits! Show me the tits!