The Playmaker

by Cathryn Fox

  She steals a quick glance around, and I look at the room from her eyes. Pretty masculine, sparsely decorated with dark wood furnishing, and a light grey paint on the walls. The blinds are pulled, draping us in darkness.

  “I want to see you,” I say, and reach for the dimmer lights, giving a silent prayer of thanks that my decorator suggested them for every room. She did a few things right, that’s for sure.

  “I want to see you too,” she whispers against my throat, her breath hot on my neck.

  The dimmer makes a humming sound as I turn it up a notch, just enough so that I can see her eyes, her expression, her beautiful body. I carry her to the bed, gently set her down, and give her shoulders a little nudge. She falls back onto my mussed sheets, and her hair splays. Jesus, she looks so good, so right, invading my personal space like that.

  “Show me what I was missing, Nina. Make me regret being such a bastard to you.”

  She pushes the blankets away and repositions herself on the bed until she’s sprawled out on my side of the mattress. I’d have taken offense, felt violated, if it were any other girl infringing upon my space. Then again, I’ve never brought a girl to this room before.

  “If you were nicer, you might have had some of this.” She bends her knees and lets them fall open.

  My heart crashes, and blood pulses behind my eyes as need surges inside me. I glimpse her pretty pussy, her wet desire glistening in the dim light. Her hand goes to her mouth. She wets her finger then rubs it over her hard nipple.

  “Yeah, but then we’d never get to hate fuck, and this is kind of fun, don’t you think?”

  She crooks her finger. “What I think is that you should come here and show me some of your plays.”

  Her teasing words hit like a hard body check—a reminder that she’s just another girl who wants something from me. But that’s a good reminder, and I’m actually grateful for it. I strengthen the shield around my heart and climb between her legs, and spread them wider.

  “I think you’ll like this play,” I say, and flatten myself over her. I lower my mouth to her throat and run my tongue along her flesh, until I find a sensitive spot that has her squirming. Her hands race over my back, touching every inch of flesh, like she can’t get enough. Her hard nipples press against my chest, abrade me as I begin a slow path downward,

  I find those hard buds with my mouth and suck them in, one by one, giving them a tongue bath, followed by a gentle nibble. Her soft bedroom moans and hard breaths urge me on, and I kiss a path to the hot spot between her legs. Her sex is wide open, completely on display for me, and I take a moment to look at her. She has the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever set eyes on.

  “Please,” she begs, the need in her voice—need for me—fucking me up just a little.

  “You ready for my next play?” I ask, working overtime to keep my shit together when all I want to do is go at her, to keep the need—far too many years in the making—at bay so I can make this good for her.

  “Yes,” she cries out and lifts her hips, until her sex bumps against my face.

  “Such a needy girl,” I say, and flick my tongue out to taste her. The world spins around me, as her flavor dances on my tongue. Desperate for a deeper taste, I lick her from bottom to top, and circle her inflamed clit until she’s writing beneath me.

  “Cole,” she murmurs, and bucks against my mouth. I center in on her hot core of nerves as I push one finger insider her. She’s so fucking snug, I’m not sure my cock will fit without hurting her.

  Her muscles tremble around my finger, and I move it in and out, taking note of her every movement, her every moan and shudder.

  “Yes,” she rasps as I work her with my tongue and finger, wanting to stay between her legs for the rest of the night, wanting to make her come over and over and over again for me so I can still taste her on my tongue a week from now. “Fuck me, please.”

  Well, look at that. The shy romance writer has a dirty mouth after all. It thrills me that she’s shedding her inhibitions.

  “I will,” I say, “but first I want you to come in my mouth. Think you could do that for me, Nina?”

  I insert another finger, for a snug fit, and she moves against me. “That’s it. Fuck my fingers,” I say as my cock aches to get inside. I slide my tongue over her clit, changing the pressure as I penetrate her deeper. Her hands grip the sheet beneath her and a little whimpering sound catches in her throat.

  I grin to myself. Pretty BallerNina is coming undone for me, and I don’t even want to examine how that’s making me lose my damn mind.

  Her muscles clench, and I continue to push into her, but she’s coming so hard I think I might break a finger. I keep fingering her, despite the tightness, wanting to draw out her release until she’s wrung out and strung out. We’re both breathing like mad when her tremors subside, and the glassy look in her eyes does the craziest things to me.

  “Cole,” she says, and blinks rapidly. “I can’t believe…that was…I…wow.”

  What, has no man ever taken care of her like that before? Brought her to orgasm? I feel equal measures of disgust and rage. I hate that no man has ever done right by her, but then again, I hate the thoughts of another man’s hands touching her.

  I rub her pussy, pet it gently, and then climb up her body, peppering her with soft kisses as I go. I settle over her, pin her with my weight, locking her beneath me. Tonight, I want to take her like this so I can see her face when she comes for me again, but tomorrow…well, tomorrow, I might just flip her over and tie her to my bedposts.

  Wait, there isn’t going to be a tomorrow.

  Her legs go around my back, her feet pushing against my ass, her body telling me what she needs without words. I reach into my nightstand and grab a condom.

  Nina goes quiet—too quiet—as I pull it on.

  I slide back over her, hold the sides of her head and examine the unease in her eyes. “You okay?” I ask. Jesus, is she having second thoughts? If so, now is the time to say it.

  She blinks, and when her eyes open again, lust replaces the discomfort. “I’m good,” she whispers, and inches up to kiss me. My lips meet hers and all thoughts, except getting inside her, fade away.

  I move my hips, position my cock at her entrance. Her body opens for me, and in one quick thrust, I seat myself high inside.

  Motherfucker, she’s as tight as a goddamn glove, but I somehow knew we’d be the perfect fit.

  “Fuck,” I whisper into her mouth as her moans of joy wraps around me. “You feel so good.”

  She moves her hips, and I move with her, a little thrown off at just how right this feels.

  “I never thought we’d fit,” she whispers. “I was a bit worried.”

  Ah, was that the apprehension I felt in her when I reached for the condom?

  “I would never hurt you,” I whisper against her damp forehead.

  We move together, and she arches up, like she needs me deeper. For some reason, I need that too. I power into her, and her moans ignite everything inside me. We create a rhythm of longtime lovers, lost in this all-consuming need between us. I inch back to see her face, take in the flush on her cheeks as her body sucks me in harder. Her fingers curl in my hair as I ride her with long, deep strokes. Her hot, wet sheath rubs my cock as I slide in and out, and I slip a hand between our bodies to stroke her clit.

  “So good,” she whimpers.

  I angle my body for deeper thrusts, and press my thumb to her clit, applying more pressure.

  “Cole,” she says, and then continues to call out my name, over and over again. Fuck, I love hearing it on her lips.

  “You like that?” I ask, as every ounce of blood in my body rushes to the swollen shaft buried deep inside my sweet Nina.

  “Yes, please…” she says, and I pump faster, maddening little thrusts that send us both to the edge and leave us hovering. Knowing it’s time to fall over, I pour everything into fucking her, and I’m rewarded when her muscles squeeze around my cock,

  Her mo
uth opens but no words form, and when I see her desire, it’s all I can do to hang on. Her hot cum sears my cock, but it’s the gentle kiss she presses to my lips that sends me freefalling without a net.

  “Nina,” I murmur, and bury my face in her neck. She rocks with me, her sexy moans stroking my dick harder as I let go. She gasps slightly as my cock pulses with each hard release.

  “I feel you.” She runs her hands over me, the connection unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. “You feel so good.”

  I still high inside her and breathe hard against her throat. Her hands move over me, her touch and exploration a little slower, a little softer. “Mmm,” she moans as she palms my muscles.

  In no hurry to move, I remain inside her. The frightening thing is, I normally pull out and get out. Tonight though, I’m far too content to stay right where I am.

  Needing to lighten things, I say, “Like what you feel?”

  “Cole,” she says breathlessly, as I reluctantly slide out of her. Settling beside her, I look at her face, see no humor. No, what I see is warmth, a woman sated, my best friend’s sister, who has gotten under my skin for a long-ass time now.

  “Nina.” I pull her to me, and our lips meet. We kiss deeply, the exchange sweet and intense—mind-blowing.

  When we finally break apart, I push her hair from her forehead and look her over. As a million thoughts attack me at once, something inside me comes unhinged, the latch released from a gate, and I draw in a quick breath. Truthfully, I don’t remember kissing, or hate fucking, ever feeling so intimate before.

  Jesus Christ, I was living a perfectly content life, one where I could keep my shit shut down, on lockdown behind a barricade where it belonged. But being with Nina is different, goddamn perfect, and that’s a big fucking problem for me.

  7

  Nina

  Call it hate fucking, or call it desire mixed with rage. Heck, call it whatever you want. But never, not once in my life, have I felt so desired or wanted by anyone. The way Cole fought for his restraint so he could see to my needs first, well, that seriously told me how much he wanted me, hungered for me. Most guys barely spare me a glance, are always overlooking me, but last night, I had all of Cole’s attention, and I liked it, a lot. Too much, probably.

  As a ridiculous thrill goes through me, I reach across the bed—and when I find it empty, I knife up, a chill going up my spine as every insecurity I’ve ever had comes crashing over me.

  Why would he just up and leave in the middle of the night? Had he gotten what he wanted and walked away? Cripes just seconds ago I was living in bliss, now I’m second-guessing everything. And that’s crazy, because this is Cole, and even though he’d just given me the best sex of my life, I can’t forget that this is still just sex. Heck, he had a stack of condoms in his drawer. He’s good at this sex stuff, has a harem of women falling all over him, probably because he’s a master at pleasure and is working with some top-notch equipment.

  So even though he’d put my needs first, it doesn’t really mean anything. And truthfully, I don’t want more. This is just about scratching an itch, and if he wants to sneak out under the cover of darkness, leaving me in his bed alone, then I shouldn’t have a problem with that.

  Then why do I?

  Goddammit, Nina, get it together. It’ll be a cold day in hell before you fall for this guy.

  I think about calling Jess to come pick me up before I get myself into trouble here, but a noise in the adjoining bathroom gains my attention. I slip from the bed, grab the shirt Cole had been wearing earlier and tug it on. I breathe in his scent as I tiptoe across the floor. The sound comes again, and this time I recognize it. Cole is sick.

  My heart races, panic welling up inside me.

  “Cole,” I say as I try the door and find it open, guilt niggling at me for thinking the worst of him. But he’d teased and tormented me for so many years, it was a logical jump.

  “Don’t come in. I’m sick,” he says on a groan.

  I don’t normally like anyone around me when I’m sick either, but he has a concussion and needs my help. I slowly open the door, and when I see him on the floor, completely bereft and alone, my throat tightens. He’s dressed only in his boxers, and has a thin sheen of sweat on his body as he rests his head on the toilet bowl, looking spent and completely worn out. How long had he been in here?

  “You should have woken me,” I say, and scramble to his side.

  “Why? I’m not your responsibility,” he says, shooting my earlier words back at me. I wince slightly, realizing how cold they must have sounded to Cole after he’d just finished telling me he was sorry he wasn’t there for me after my fall.

  Well dammit, he has no one else and I plan to be here for him whether he likes it or not.

  I grab a cloth from the closet, run it under the cold water, and sit cross-legged beside him. I put my hand on his forehead to check for fever. His skin is clammy, his eyes sunken into the sockets, and it physically hurts me to see him like this.

  “I don’t want you to see me like this,” he says, like he’d just read my mind.

  “Too bad.”

  “I want you to leave, Nina,” he says, putting more force in his voice, but he’s so weak it comes out strained. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can, but now I’m taking care of you. So shut up and get over yourself already.”

  “That mouth of yours,” he murmurs, and despite the situation, we both grin at the reminder of what we’d done only hours earlier. I pat his forehead with the cool cloth and he moans. “Fuck, that feels good. But you need to get some rest.”

  “I’m fine, now just relax and let me take care of you.” I dab his head some more, then run the cloth over his neck and shoulders. “This is my fault, anyway. So I deserve to be awake with you.”

  Eyes glassy and dazed seek out mine. “How is it your fault?”

  Really? Like he doesn’t know. “I seduced you and I probably shouldn’t have. You need rest and relaxation, not me ‘throwing myself’ at you.” I do air quotes around the words we’d used in our sexy banter.

  One corner of his mouth turns up, and he squints at me in the dim light. “And here I thought I was the one who’d seduced you.”

  “Nope, I was the one who said we should hate fuck.”

  He groans. “Yeah, but I’d been thinking about fucking you since…well, since you showed up at my door and asked me for help.”

  A giggle I have absolutely no control over rips from my lungs. I have no idea why I’m laughing. It’s an odd reaction in the face of his admission, but I can’t seem to help myself. Maybe it’s knowing how much he wanted me, maybe it’s relief that he hadn’t run out under the cover of darkness. Either way, it’s inappropriate; so is the closeness I feel with him as we sit here in the dark on the bathroom floor.

  Careful, Nina, you’re here for hockey lessons and a little sex. Nothing more.

  He grins. “That’s funny?”

  “No, I just get giddy when I’m tired.”

  “I remember. I used to hear you and Jess laughing late at night when I stayed over. I always wondered what you guys were laughing at.”

  “Probably you.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  “And how much of an ass you were,” I add for good measure.

  “You can leave anytime now,” he says, but he’s smirking at me, and he’s resting one hand on mine, his thumb caressing my wrist. Does he even know he’s doing that?

  It’s hard to believe the chemistry between us, the way we instantly wanted each other after not seeing each other for the last few years. Then again, I’d be telling a big-ass lie if I said I’d never noticed him before. God, how many times did he walk around our house half naked? I hated it.

  Oh, how I hated it.

  “Stop talking and just relax,” I say.

  He puts his hand to his stomach, and his fingers curl as his entire body tenses.

  “Shit, Nina, I’m going to be sick again. You need to leave.” />
  Like hell I’m leaving him like this. I hold the cloth to his head as he leans over the toilet and heaves.

  When he stops, I flush the toilet, rinse the cloth again and press it to his forehead.

  “Thanks,” he whispers weakly.

  “Don’t talk, just rest.”

  “I’m just—”

  “Shh…” I whisper, and brush his hair back with the cloth. I check his pulse, finding it beating double time. “You need to go to the doctor tomorrow,” I say.

  “I actually have a checkup at noon.”

  “Good, I’ll take you.”

  He opens his mouth like he’s about to protest, then heaves again. When he finishes, I urge his head away from the toilet and reposition myself beside him against the wall, so he can rest on my shoulder. We stay like that for a bit, then he heaves once more. I wait a long while, and once I’m sure he’s cleared his stomach, I slowly stand.

  Tired green eye full of something I’d never seen before, something that very much resembles vulnerability, blink up at me.

  “Where are you going?” he asks, a strange edge of panic in his voice as it breaks.

  “To get you a glass of water, I’ll be right back.” Guilt eats at me as I dash downstairs to the kitchen. Cole should have been resting, not having crazy monkey sex with me. I grab a glass, and take the water jug off the counter and fill it. I put it back into the fridge and hurry back to him.

  His smile is weak as I enter, but the way he’s so happy to see me gives me a weird title thrill.

  “Rinse your mouth with this.”

  He takes the glass and does as I say, then lets his head roll back and moans.

  “Headache?”

  “It’s subsiding.”

  “Stomach?”

  “Much better,” he whispers into the darkness.

  I run the cloth under cold water again and dab his body with it.

  “That feels so good, Nina.”

  I slide back in beside him and we rest against the wall. I take his hand and hold it, wanting him to know he’s not alone. I brush my finger over his hard calluses, note the strength in his hand. He’s a big tough guy, probably the toughest guy I know, yet the way he touched me last night… So sexy and gentle.