Page 153 of The Games We Play
I lifted her effortlessly, guiding her onto the edge of the bar. Her back hit the cool surface, legs locking me in like she was made to take me.
Lining myself up, I shoved into her in one smooth, desperate stroke.
Her slick heat welcomed me, tight and pulsing around my cock like she’d been aching just as bad as I was.
“Yes,” she panted against my lips as I buried myself deeper. “Fuck, Mac, yes.”
She was clenched so tight I had to grit my teeth. My hand slammed down on the bar for leverage as I drove into her again. Her heels dug into my ass, holding me to her like she never wanted me to leave.
“Choke me,” she panted, grabbing my one hand with hers and bringing it up to her throat again.
The tattooed ink around her pretty neck stared back at me like it belonged in a fucking painting. She was a masterpiece.
“Touch yourself,” I growled. “Show me how bad you want it.”
Her hand flew between us, fingers finding her clit as I slowed my pace. I pulled out until only the tip of me remained inside her, then sank back in slowly, watching myself disappear inch by inch into her dripping heat.
“Faster,” I ordered, my voice ragged.
She obeyed instantly, circling her clit faster, her moans growing louder, more desperate. I picked up speed to match her rhythm, thrusting hard, our bodies slamming together with every movement.
Penny’s head fell back, her hair tumbling down her spine as she rode the edge of bliss. She rocked with me, matching every thrust, her whole body surrendering to the rhythm we’d built.
I was so fucking close.
Tension coiled tight at the base of my spine. Fire shot through my veins as the pressure peaked. I grunted, pulled out at the last second, and spilled across her stomach—hot, thick, and utterly spent.
My chest heaved as I leaned over her, panting, watching her body tremble beneath mine, still quivering with the aftershocks of pleasure.
We locked eyes, something unspoken and powerful passing between us. She reached up and touched my cheek—not with heat or urgency, but with something softer. Something deeper. Her fingertips brushed my skin in a gesture full of tenderness, and the faint smile on her lips held more meaning than a thousand words.
I loved her.
This—this—was what love truly felt like.
Penny Hudson wasn’t simply someone I loved. Shewaslove, made flesh. Bright. Gentle. Fierce in the quietest of ways. She didn’t just take up space in my world—she was the world.
47
MAC
“We have to get down to business!” Aspen called as she burst through the front door of the bar, her tote bag swinging from her shoulder. Ellie and Logan trailed close behind.
I looked up from the bottles I was counting, eyebrows raised. The three of them were headed straight for me, Aspen clearly on a mission. I spotted the corner of a laptop sticking out of her bag—she was serious. Dead serious.
The grand gesture was happening.
I texted Aspen right after the night in the bar with Penny.
The night that lived rent-free in my head.
The night that had ruined me in the best damn way.
Every dream, every stolen moment in the shower… it was all Penny.
Penny, laid out across this exact bar. Her voice, her gasps, the way her skin flushed. It haunted me in the most addictive way.
I’d been right, working here with a clear head afterward? Impossible. Every night I’d catch myself brushing my fingers along the spot where her body had been, chasing a ghost of warmth.
