Changing His Game (Entangled Brazen) (Gamers) by Megan Erickson Page A

want that chance?”
    A small gasp, just a quick intake of air. “Austin.”
    He closed his eyes, soaking in the way she said his name, the way she drew out the first syllable, pausing on the “s” and rolling it around on her tongue before it slipped off.
    No one said his name like that. And he didn’t want anyone else to.
    Only Marley.
    He heard a couple of thumps in the background, a rustling of keys. “Where are you?”
    “I’m home now.”
    A voice in the background, masculine. Austin tensed. “You’re not alone?”
    “It’s just my brother, he’s leaving now.” There was a smile in her voice, and then Austin heard a slam of the door.
    “You didn’t answer my question,” he said softly.
    Another noise, this one sounded like a moan. “Yes.”
    “Yes what?”
    A pause. Austin could hear every second tick on the swinging pendulum of the grandfather clock in his office.
    “Yes, I’d like that chance.”
    “Now?”
    “Now.”
    Austin was already on the way to his bedroom. “Then let’s do it, sweetheart.”
    She made that sound again in the back of her throat.
    “Where are you?” he asked. He sank into the soft chair in the corner of his bedroom and spread his legs, palming his erection through his dress pants. He wanted to draw this out, make them both crazy.
    “I’m…in my living room. On my couch.”
    “Are you near a window?” He wanted that feeling, that anyone could be watching while she touched herself to the sound of his voice. But no one else could touch. No way. Not ever, if he had it his way.
    “Yes,” she gasped. “I-I have a big bay window.”
    “Are the curtains open?”
    A pause, then a breathy, “Yes.”
    She liked that, his Marley. “Good, now what are you wearing?” He flicked open the top button of his pants.
    “A dress.”
    “What does it look like?”
    “It’s…um…a short dress, blue, and I’m wearing heels.”
    “What’s under the dress, sweetheart?”
    “A…lace thong. Pale blue.”
    He closed his eyes. Pale blue, like the tie he’d used to cover her eyes. “Hike up your skirt and spread your legs.”
    “O-Okay.”
    He imagined her on her couch, legs spread, the muscles in her calves and thighs flexing, heels on the floor. Skirt at her waist, head thrown back. Her fingers slipping beneath the edge of that lacy fabric. “Touch yourself. Tell me what you feel.”
    He could hear the swallow in her voice. “Austin…”
    “Tell me, Evelyn.”
    Her breath caught, then she exhaled into her phone. “I feel…wet. God, Austin.”
    He lowered the zipper of his pants. “Tell me why you’re wet.”
    “Because…of your voice. And the memory of you touching me.”
    “You want that again?” He peeled away the flaps of his pants and pulled his hard, aching cock out of his boxers.
    “Yes.”
    “What do you want? My fingers or my mouth?”
    She made a strangled sound.
    “Don’t come yet. Stop touching yourself if you’re close.”
    “Please,” she whimpered.
    “If I was there right now, I’d smack that swollen clit of yours, to remind you that you don’t come without me saying so.”
    “Yes.”
    “Smack it for me. Hold yourself open. Let me hear it.”
    He listened for it, that wet slap. And when the sound came, he wrapped his fist around his cock and squeezed. “Fuck, Marley.”
    “Austin. I want your mouth,” she whispered.
    He still didn’t trust himself, so he kept a grip on his cock to the point of pain. “I’m there, on my knees between your thighs. You’re not allowed to touch me. I kiss the inside of each thigh, lick the skin there. You taste like heaven, Marley, did you know that?”
    “N-No.”
    “Well, you do. And now I’m pushing your knees farther apart. I need a lot of room to work, Marley. I’m gripping your hips, and with my thumbs, I’m opening you up. I want to see you, all swollen and wet for me. You are, aren’t you?”
    “God, yes.”
    “And now, I’m pulling you toward me. Your skirt is at your waist, your