Mr Reluctant Billionaire || BWWM

Twenty-six

I shriek and jump as an animated player in Chelsea jersey kicks the ball into my goalpost for the third time since we started playing. My gamepad clatters to the rugged floor, Brandon bursts out laughing and I growl. I let out a silent scream, this is not funny.

The last-minute decision to challenge him to a game now seems like a terrible idea, I suck my lip and refuse to collect the pad he hands to me. Most of the wall in front of us are covered in screens to allow him to switch to a different game without missing any moment. He claims he hasn’t visited his game room in weeks, work has kept him busy and I suggested we took advantage of his free day. I frown, I don’t want to do his bidding for the whole day, I want him to do mine, I have lots of questions that need answers.

Letting out a low hiss, I snatch the pad from him, my ears burning from the sound of his mocking laughter. What happened to ladies first? The loser must attend to the winner’s needs for the rest of today and I can’t be the loser. I have to win, by all means necessary.

As a new idea begins to take form in my head, my eyes wander to the time on the main screen which shows we have less than two minutes until the end of this match. I flash him a smile at my ingenuity and with my gaze set straight, I cancel the ongoing game.

The overhead lights come on immediately, the groans sounding from beside me has my hand covering my mouth to prevent me from laughing out loud. I spare him a glance and giggle, the faint, pink colour staining his cheeks almost has me reaching out to pinch them. Brandon hides his face in his palms and lets out a frustrated groan, my lips pull into a grim line and I look away but I am far from contrite, he is not winning this time.

“Elna Stark.”

“Yes, baby?” I reply with the innocence of a child while batting my eyelashes at him.

“Why did you end the game?” he asks, his hand pointed to the screen. “Why?”

Waiting for him to look my way, my fingers grip the hem of my T-Shirt, I murmur, “I don’t know what you are talking about, I didn’t do anything.” He lets out a sigh, I smile. “You can declare me the winner.” The suggestion is ludicrous in every sense since he is leading by three goals, I pull off my shirt and add, “Just declare me the winner.”

Brandon’s eyes dart to mine, most likely to give me a piece of his mind but his words evaporate when he sees me in only my bra and jean shorts that expose my buttcheeks. “What are you doing?” he asks. He groans when I bite my index finger and wink, a hand runs through his hair, letting some strands fall over his face. “That is against the rule.”

“There are no rules,” I reply, loving the way his eyes linger on my breasts which bounce when I shake them. I hook a finger behind me and unclasp my bra without taking it off. His eyes narrow, I smirk at how affected he is by me. I lean forward to give him a better view of my breasts, my voice lowers to a whisper, “You like what you see, baby?”

Clarissa will be proud of me when I let her know how I tried to seduce my husband. I am not the bedroom shy girl she knew a couple of months ago, I am not a virgin. There is a fluttering in my stomach, I giggle, more excited than I should be at that thought.

The game’s theme song changes, the lights go off and Brandon grunts. “Let’s finish our game.” As he says this, he cast another look at my chest which is illuminated by the rays of the television, I straighten up and pretend not to notice. “God, El. Put on your shirt.”

“No. If you don’t like what you see, stop looking.” Picking my pad, I restart the game, hoping my chest is enough distraction. I need to know what he is hiding in that room.

Our match resumes, we continue with the same team, this time, I am in the lead, I don’t miss any chance I get. A corner of my lips twitches when I score an additional two goals, it is a few minutes to the end of the first half, if I keep up with this, I will win this match.