Try and Play Me, Boy (The Playgirls #2) (5 page)

BOOK: Try and Play Me, Boy (The Playgirls #2)
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Chapter 9:

 

 

Alice played it again.

She hadn't watched it at first; while she’d grown wet at the idea that an anonymous video of Colt and her having sex was online somewhere, there for the world to see, she’d felt weird at the idea of actually watching it, but some day, a couple of weeks back, when she'd felt particularly hot under the collar, she'd given up and played the damn thing.

It had her reaching for Bob and thrusting a finger in her rear end in thirty seconds flat.

Shit. His cock was
huge.
And her ass was pretty damn sexy, too, thank you very much. The thousands of views and hundreds of likes attested to both.

Earphones in, Alice stuffed the butt plug Colt had given her for Christmas in her ass before assaulting her vagina and clit. In vain.

Why the
ever loving fuck
couldn't she come without Colt Bloody Colburn!

 


 

If there was one thing worse than platonically cohabiting with the woman you loved, it was cohabiting with the horny, pregnant woman you loved without fucking her brains out every time she needed a hard cock.

Alice’s room was next door to his and he heard her as she masturbated with her vibrators.

Every. Single. Night.

Oh, and some days, too.

Meanwhile, Colt was close to turning certifiably insane.

Three months had passed since she’d moved in. They shared every meal, the TV remote, and the master bathroom. They’d seen their babies moving inside her for the first time, and he should have been able to kiss her and make love to her right then and there, but the damn doctor had said, pointedly looking at him, that she was to avoid any cause of potential stress.

And while he would have loved to think otherwise, he knew he stressed her out, for better or for worse.

That meant the ring he’d picked up on their way back from San Francisco stayed safely stashed in his drawer. That meant he listened to her going at it while her plastic cocks vibrated and the best he could to remain relatively sane was to wank along with her.

But Colt was only human and Alice didn't stop tempting him.

Monday, he’d found her making her bed, bent over the frame, that perky ass in the air.

Tuesday, she’d grabbed a fruit from the bottom of the fridge while he was making coffee.

Wednesday, he cracked.

 

Alice came out of her room after
yet another
masturbating session, and she had the gall of seeming pissed off.

“Colt, do you really
have
to leave that freaking toilet sit up?” she wined, her eyes narrowed at him.

“Alice, do you have to moan so loud the neighbor bought earplugs?” he countered conversationally, without dragging his eyes up from his emails.

Her jaw hit the floor.

“You… You
asshole!
You did this to me! You got me
pregnant
, and pregnant women are fucking
horny!

“Well, there you go. I have to live with your moaning, you have to deal with the fact that I am going to leave the toilet sit up in my fucking bathroom.”

He knew he’d crossed the line when he heard how that sounded.

He’d only meant that the master bathroom, attached to his bedroom, was technically part of his room, while hers had an adjoining shower on the left, but it might have seemed like he questioned her welcome in his home.

By the time he’d made it off the sofa and to her room, she already had a case on the bed, and she was packing.

Fuck.

“Alice, don’t be dramatic. I just meant that’s my bathroom, is all. This is your home.”

“This is
yours,
and I’ll be out of your hair in a minute
.

Shit. How was he going to fix that?

He went to the case and unpacked her shit as she threw it in.

“Don’t be silly, princess. We’ve already talked about setting the nursery up in the third room.”

“You can have a nursery in your third room; I’ll have one in mine, too.”

She slapped his hand when he tried to take the bras she’d just thrown in the case.

Alright. Enough was enough.

He grabbed her by the waist and threw her over his shoulder, before taking her through his bathroom, and dropping her on his bed.

“You’re not leaving,” he growled. “When you take your things out of that room, you’ll put them in mine.”

He was so fucking tired of the pretenses and the games they played. They wanted each other. She liked him. He loved her. Fuck the rest of the universe.

He shut her up the only way he knew how.

Stubborn as she was, she wiggled a bit, and there were a few insults, but when his mouth came in contact with her pussy, all that came out of her lips was a wordless plea.

Alice had changed since he’d last seen her from that angle. There was a bump on the stomach which had been flat, before. A soft wave of curly blond hair on the pussy which had been smooth – she’d obviously not believed she’d see any action.

Silly girl.

He was greedy, lapping at her like she was made of candy, relishing every moan she gave him. Her fingers curled around his hair and he smiled against her clit, encouraged.

Colt wasn’t in a hurry; he licked and teased until she came. Then, he licked a bit more, before rising and looking down at his handiwork.

Alice stayed on the bed, panting, her legs limp, still spread apart in an open invitation.

It took a lot of willpower, but he ignored it.

After a while, she looked up towards him, questioningly.

“I’m not a bastard. You’re horny – I can help take the edge off. But I’m not going to fuck you unless you actually want me to.” 

And she didn’t; not really.

Well, he could imagine her body and mind were probably in disagreement about it, but he knew Alice Vaughan was still ready to bolt.

Or ready to break.

 


 

Alice had learnt from her mistake; she pointblank refused to assume anything. Now, every thought process was backed up by hard evidences.

Her evidences proved that Colt Colburn was up to something; there was a plan, an agenda, where she was concerned.

She’d come to that conclusion weeks ago, when she’d seen that he’d stopped answering any of her question spontaneously. He thought everything out.

Today, she was given insight in the end game.

When you take your things out of that room, you’ll put them in mine.

That was the first thing he’d said without thinking it out beforehand, and it shocked the hell out of her.

Honestly? She’d believed he’d been plotting a way to get to her agree to leave the kids to him – it was obvious that he already loved their two peanuts. He’d mentioned the nursery, and schools, and Christmases and other stuff that made her want to scream or hide.

But now here it was: his insane plan included – or was limited to – keeping her in his home.

It was probably the first time she breathed out so freely in months. He wanted her here; really. Maybe even for more than eighteen years. Alice was glowing.

Well, that might be due to the humongous orgasm he’d just given her.

Alice hadn’t come in four months, since the last time they had sex. She’s been instants away from madness.

Well, she probably still was, because she wanted it again. And again.

Pregnancy sucked.

When it was clear that Colt wasn’t going to change his mind, come back here and fuck her silly, she dragged herself out of the bed, ready to get up and leave his room, but something on her left caught her eyes.

She wasn’t snooping. Snooping would have been checking his pocket, opening his draws and hacking his phone.

She just happened to turn around, look left and see that box in the half-open bedside table draw.

It could have been anything, really, his mother’s birthday present, a cufflink box,
anything.
And to her credit, she didn’t even open it.

Instead, she yelled.

“Colton Colburn!”

He was there in a flash, concern written on every single one of his features.

“Why is there a square jewelry box in your top draw? Do you know what’s in my top draw? Mr. Yellow. And Doctor Purple. That’s what normal people have in their draws. Not jewelry boxes.”

Did she sound insane? Because she was. She really, really was.

“There’s nothing normal about owning half a dozen dildos, princess.”

She sent him a look which hopefully conveyed
Please, I have at least ten
as well as
answer my fucking question.

He got at least one of the messages, because he sighed, muttering “I wasn’t going to do that now,” before reaching for the box.

Then, he handed it to her.

Alice looked up to his face, first, and back to the box.

It really was small; not necklace, or even bracelet-size. It was either earrings or…

“I’d planned to try and sweeten you up, first. You know, get you to let me in. But let’s face it, it’s never happening; not until you’ve decided that you could trust me. And recently, I’ve come to realize that this actually might be the only way to show you that you can.”

As she hadn’t made a move to take the box, he opened it for her.

The ring was small, and old fashioned. Also, gorgeous, let's not forget gorgeous. There were sapphires nested around a modest princess cut diamond.

She didn't even like diamonds but damn. That one was pretty.

“Xander got Mum to give him her engagement set to propose to Tamsin. I roped Dad into giving me his mother’s. But obviously, you’ll question this. I bet the allegation number one will be
does he just want the kids.”

Right on the money; dammit, was she that predictable?

“So I have one condition. If you accept this, you’ll marry me without a prenup.”

Shut. Up.

People like the Colburns couldn’t marry without a prenup; she was pretty sure there was a law against it somewhere. If there wasn’t, there should be.

The issue wasn’t how much he was worth – it was the fact that thousands of people relied on him; losing some of his assets would cost the entire society a lot.

“That’s me trusting you. That’s me telling you that there’s no way any private investigator would ever find me cheating. That’s me telling you I love you the only way I can make you believe it.”

When she was done peeling her jaw off the floor, Alice said the only thing that came through her mind.

“I need you to fuck me now. Hard. In every cavity. Until tomorrow.”

 

 

Epilogue:

 

She dragged his ass all the way to the lounge and made him phone people. First, Lincon, because
she
was not marrying him without a prenup, and his lawyer had to get going to have it drafted in time. Then, his mother, and hers. Alice assumed they’d wanted to be there, and the least they could do was to give them twenty-four hours of notice.

“What do you mean, tomorrow, dear?”

If things went south, Colt wasn’t above blaming Shane for giving him the idea.

“Alice said yes. I don’t want her to change her mind.”

Funny enough, Mara sagely agreed this was probably the best course of action, and promised to meet them in Vegas.

Gia, unsurprisingly, wasn’t as easy to convince.

She yelled so hard Colt held the phone at arm’s length without putting it on speaker, and he still heard every word.

He winced until Alice took the cell from him.

“Gia?”

The yelling stopped immediately.

“Alice, dear,” the dragon cooed.

“Good morning Gia. I desperately need your help… You see, I don’t have a dress.”

And that was that. The Dragon was on her course to terrorize every designer in LA. 

“How the
hell
do you do that?”

She smiled secretively, and refused to divulge her strange power over his mother.

To the rest of their respective clans, they sent an email; over the course of the next twenty-something hours, they received various insults, but then, all of them were there – Alice’s grumpy sister, her roommates and colleagues, her brother and his scary little geek, the parents, the entire Colburn crew, Brett Webber, Jack Cross and even Lincon Noble; every single person they’d included in that email.

Just like Alice and Colt Colburn would always drop everything, and be there at each and every one of their weddings.

BOOK: Try and Play Me, Boy (The Playgirls #2)
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