by Tessa Layne
“Stop teasing,” she pants. “Please.”
I oblige. I press my tongue into her slick folds, searching, lapping, slowly making my way toward her engorged clit. Her sighs fall on my ears like water, and her hand comes to my head. I take my time, learning each dip and rise, feasting on her arousal. Her hips begin to rock as she offers up her most secret parts, seeking more friction. I seal my mouth around her clit, licking with the flat of my tongue. She pulls on my hair, grinding against my mouth. She’s close, too close. I’m amazed at how fast she got there. I pull away only to have my hair yanked. “Don’t stop,” she grits. “Don’t you dare stop.”
I chuckle, and place an open kiss on the inside of her thigh. “I promise the wait will be worth it.”
“Tease,” she growls.
“Maybe just a little.” I kiss the inside of her other thigh, and draw the back of my finger across her swollen folds. I kiss her hipbone, the soft swell of her belly, I stroke her legs in long fluid motions. Only when her breathing slows, do I dive back in again, kissing the center of her, devouring every inch until she’s at fever pitch again. She curses when I pull away again. A beautiful string of profanity that’s music to my ears. This time, when I make my way back to her pussy, I pause. “Look at me Mariah.” Her head rises and our gazes collide. She’s like a woman possessed, wildfire in her eyes, hair tousled from writhing, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. “I’ve never seen you look so beautiful,” I say, barely able to speak. The feeling inside my chest is too big, too much. If it were anyone else but Sparky, I’d run for the exit. But I have to see this through. Hell, I want to.
Keeping my eyes on her, I settle myself between her legs. The sweet bright taste of her is like a homecoming of sorts. Something deep inside settles into place. I lick and lap, suck and swirl, while I watch her, rapt. Her orgasm is a thing of beauty, the way it transforms her face. She lets out a loud keening cry as shudder after shudder wracks her body. I keep my mouth on her until she’s spent.
“Holy shit, Steele,” she says with a giggle. “What the fuck was that?”
“Only the first round.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“How many rounds are we going?” she asks, eyes sparkling.
“As many as you want, sweetheart.” A cloud crosses Sparky’s face. “Did I say something wrong?”
She props herself on her elbows. “I’m not your sweetheart.”
“I know,” I say, keeping my voice light, hating that she’s pointing out the obvious. “Slip of the tongue.”
“I can’t be your sweetheart,” she presses.
“I know. And don’t worry, our little tryst will remain a secret forever, if that’s what you want.”
“I want.”
I hate the wave of disappointment that makes my stomach sink like a stone. But she’s right, we have to put the health of the boat above all else. I crawl up the bed, and settle next to her, propping my head on my hand. “What else do you want?” I waggle my eyebrows, setting off a cascade of giggles.
“How many condoms do you have?”
“Enough for us to go all night long if you like.”
“I shouldn’t spend the night. We’ve got training first thing.”
“And Stockton and I want to pay a visit to Danny before that.”
Her face turns concerned. “Do you think he’ll join?”
“We’re not going to take no for an answer.”
“Danny can be pretty stubborn.”
“We’re making him an offer he won’t refuse.”
“Oh?”
“We’re going to set up a distillery at the ballpark, and offer him a spot in the owners box.”
Sparky lets out a low whistle. “That’s very generous of you.”
“It’s the right thing to do.”
She cocks her head, eyes soft. “You’re a good man, Harrison.”
I warm at the way my name rolls off her tongue. “And you, Mariah, are damned near irresistible.”
She blushes the sweetest shade of rose. Sweeter still is the way she tilts her chin to receive my kiss. A tremor pulses through me. I don’t deserve this kind of trust. Not from her. I haven’t earned it. Not in this way, at least. She trusts me because of the boat. The way we all trust each other. But this is different territory, scarier territory. At her request, this is supposed to be platonic. Nothing more than a wild night between two consenting adults. But it’s not. It’s so so much more than that. Feelings I don’t want to acknowledge balloon in my chest. I push them aside and deepen the kiss, letting my mind run wild with the myriad of dirty activities before us.
“So tell me,” I say with gravel in my throat, when we part. “What are your limits?”
Her eyes widen. “For real?”
I nod.
“Wow. No one’s ever asked me that before.”
I growl in disgust. “They should have.”
She tilts her head, studying me. “Noted.”
“Well?”
Her eyes light, and she taps a finger against her lower lip. “Hmmm… Okay… anal play okay, anal sex, not.”
“Spanking?”
“Light, but I’ll tell you if I want more.”
My cock strains against my slacks, desperately wanting to be set free. “What else?”
“I’d let you tie me up… with your tie. But only my hands.”
“Positions?”
She shoots me a naughty grin. “We can get as bendy as you like.” I grin back. But then she surprises the heck out of me. “What are your limits?”
I blink. No woman has ever asked what my limits are. Not once. I like it. And my mind goes to a very dirty place. “I have none.”
“You must have some.”
“Nope.”
“Toys up the ass?”
“Bring it.”
She giggles uncontrollably. “Tying up?”
“Yep.”
“Spanking?” Her eyes are wide as saucers, and sparkling with laughter.
“Come to daddy.”
She snorts. “Are you kidding me?”
I shake my head.
“You’ve done all that stuff before?”
“Nope. But I would with you.” The weight of my confession only hits me after the words leave my mouth. The balloon in my chest returns. And expands when she cups my cheek.
“Why?” she asks quietly.
“Because I trust you. And I really like you, Sparks. And I feel like we have this connection.”
“I feel it too.”
“And even though this can’t go anywhere. We can just be in the moment, and enjoy it. And each other.”
She nods. “I know what you mean.”
I swallow, words stuck in the back of my throat. “Do you ever—”
She stops my mouth with a finger. “Shhh. More kissing, less talking.”
I agree, but at the same time, I want her to know that if it was any other time or place… I’d want it to be different. Something… more.
Sparky pulls on my neck, bringing my mouth to hers, and while we kiss, her hands are everywhere— pushing off my shirt, tugging at my belt, and oh, jeezus, cupping my balls. “I meant it when I said your junk is perfect,” she murmurs between kisses, as she draws her hand along my rigid shaft, squeezing right beneath the crown. My eyes roll back. It’s been so fucking long since I’ve been touched, I’ve forgotten how good it is. And her fingernails. Motherfucker it’s going to take all my self-control to hold out.
“God, you’re amazing,” I mutter from somewhere deep in my throat. She responds with a giggle and a bite to my collarbone.
Somehow, our clothes end up on the floor, and we’re stretched out on the bed, skin to skin. The sweet spicy scent of her fills the air, and for an awful moment my heart squeezes so hard it hurts to breathe. I don’t want tonight to end. I don’t want it to be what I’ve always said I wanted— one night only. God help me, I want more. I reach for a condom, and her hand covers mine. “Let me.”
She tears it open, but bef
ore she puts it on, she drops her head, and runs her tongue along the flared edge, before taking the head into her mouth. My body goes hot and cold, every cell firing to life. “Jeezus, Sparky,” I grunt, unable to say anything more. Words have left my brain. I’m functioning on a purely primal level.
“Next time,” she murmurs as she rolls the condom down my shaft, ending her ministrations with a gentle tug on my balls.
With a caveman-like growl, I flip her onto her back, and press her knees apart, settling my hips between her legs, cock notched at the entrance of her very slick pussy. I take her hands and pull them above her head, capturing them both in one of mine. I tease at her opening, sliding through her folds, until she expresses her impatience with another string of curses. I slide into her, slowly. Inch by inch until I’m fully seated, surrounded by her tight heat. And jesus, she’s tight. Her pussy grips me like a vice. I pause, memorizing the feeling. I don’t ever want to forget this moment, the sensation of being completely enveloped.
She starts to move first, slow little rocks as she searches for the angle she likes. I hold still, thrusting only when she starts to take on a rhythm. She lets out a guttural moan that spurs me on. “Yes, deep like that. And slow.”
I hold my pace, even as electricity races up my legs, and draws my balls tight. I’m a fucking rower, I could take this pace all night and let her come all over me as many times as she wants. I’m barely winded, but my own orgasm winds up, and hovers at the edge of my awareness, ready to launch when I let go. I give her exactly what she wants, driving deep and hard, keeping up the slow pace that set her body on fire. And when her back arches off the bed and in an earth shattering orgasm, I’m right there too, tumbling over the edge with her into the great abyss.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
From the perspective of Steele’s dick
Oh sweet baby jeezus. I think I need a cigarette. Or a joint. Maybe four.
That is all.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
By four a.m. we’ve gone through an entire strip of condoms. I’m spent, and want nothing more than to spoon for a few hours before Sparky makes me haul my ass to New Year’s Day training. “You should be grateful I’m giving you an extra hour,” she chides, gently socking my shoulder.
“Just a few more minutes?”
She lets out a husky laugh. “I never took you for a cuddler, Steele.”
I’m not. But this is different. And I’m not ready for it to end. But she’s made it clear our time’s up. I push to sitting and reach for my pants. I hand over her dress. “I’m keeping your panties.”
“Perv.”
“Maybe.”
“Totally.”
“I’ll wash them and keep them in a drawer. You know… in case you come over again.”
A look of pure regret washes over her face. “You know there won’t be a next time,” she says gently. “There can’t be.”
I give her a lopsided smile. “A guy can hope, can’t he?”
The ride back to her place is quiet. She lives in one of those vintage buildings on Armour. “Can I walk you to the door?” I shouldn’t be worried about her safety, Sparky can fend for herself. But I can’t help it.
She turns in her seat. “That’s very sweet of you, but I’ll be okay.” She sucks in a breath. “Harrison?”
My stomach yo-yos. “Yeah?”
“Thank you for this. I’ll never forget it.” She leans across the console and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth.
The most exquisite pain blooms across my chest, and for a second, I can’t speak. “Me either,” I finally manage to croak.
“Are we good? Back to business as usual?”
I nod. “We’re good. Hands off from here on out.”
She flashes me a brilliant smile. “Good. See you at seven-thirty. Don’t be late.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
From the texts of Mariah Sanchez and her sister
Mariah: HAPPY NEW YEAR confetti emoji, confetti emoji, confetti emoji, sent with fireworks.
Cecilia: … Why are you up?
Mariah: I never went to bed :D
Cecilia: OH? Did you ring in the new year with some hottie?
Mariah: you could say that… giddy emoji
Cecilia: WHO?!?!?!? SPILL
Mariah: I’ll give you three guesses… crazy emoji
Cecilia: You didn’t.
Mariah: Maybe… laughing emoji
Cecilia: OMG YOU DID!!!!! DID YOU?!?!?!
Mariah: I did.
Cecilia: fireworks emoji, confetti emoji, confetti emoji, crazy face emoji
Cecilia: And?????????
Mariah: I don’t kiss and tell.
Cecilia: I’m your sister. I don’t count.
Mariah: Let’s just call it the best night I’ve ever had in my life. Ever. And I’m super sad it’s over.
Cecilia: Why is it over?
Mariah: Too risky.
Cecilia: For you? or the boat?
Mariah: … both
Cecilia: oh hun.
Mariah: It’s okay. I knew what I was getting into. Itch Scratched.
Cecilia: Still…
Mariah: I think I’ll be okay. I have to be okay.
Cecilia: You know where the B&J pints are. Come on over. We can have ice cream for New Year’s breakfast.
Mariah: Can’t. Practice at 7:30. They’re bringing in fresh meat. crazy face emoji, laughing emoji
Cecilia: You’re evil.
Mariah: It’s part of my charm.
Chapter Thirty
Sparky’s waiting for us at 7:30, looking far too fresh-faced given our night. She practically glows. “You guys look a little worse for wear,” she says with a decidedly evil grin. “Time to sweat those toxins out of your bodies.” She swings her gaze to Danny, who we’ve convinced to join the team. “Welcome to hell week, Danny. If you work hard, you’ll catch these softies in no time.”
“Who’s calling who softy?” Challenges Mac, flexing his pecs.
Sparky laughs maniacally. “Lace up your shoes, we’re going for a three-mile sprint, followed by a thousand on the erg.”
The erg - a rowing machine to those not in the know. Otherwise considered an instrument of torture to rowers. We barely keep up with her. Danny straggles, and Stockton is right there with him. Twenty minutes in, and they’re both heaving into buckets. I’d be heaving too, if I had any food in my stomach.
“Sip your water, don’t gulp,” she cautions. “Hop on the erg as soon as you can.”
“Happy fucking New Year,” Owen mutters under his breath.
“Happy fucking New Year to you too,” answers Sparky as she practically dances by, a broad grin on her face. “This is the year we PR every race. This is the year we go undefeated. This is the year we put Kansas City on the map. Am I right?”
We all mutter some form of agreement. But it’s not good enough for Sparky.
“AM I RIGHT?!?!”
We all answer at the same time, with a little more conviction.
“Yes.”
“Hell, yes.”
“Fuck, yeah.”
“That’s more like it,” she says, snapping her towel. “Onto squats.”
She brutalizes us for the next hour, but we can’t complain, because she’s running, and lifting, and pushing right along with us. It’s why we’ll do anything for her. She’s not some queen bee perching on the cox box. She’s one of us. She’s our motivation and in many ways, the heart of this boat.
By the time we wrap, we’re sweaty and exhausted. Danny cracks a smile for the first time since the Whiskey Den got raided. “I needed this. Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Sparky says with a low chuckle. “You’ll be cursing me out before the end of the week.”
She’s not wrong. But she takes it in stride. And we all know without a doubt, we’ll be the leanest, meanest boat on the water come March.
It’s nine-thirty, and I’m pacing my loft like a caged lion. I’ve talked to Sparky nearly every day an
d not calling her feels weird. Wrong. And If we’re going about business as usual then I absofuckinglutely should call her. Or at least text her. I’ve spent most of the day with the guys drinking beer and watching bowl games. We all agreed our training diet starts tomorrow. And after the workout Sparky threw at us this morning, we deserved all the beer carbs our bodies would allow.
I pull out my phone, thumb hovering over the digital keyboard. “Fuck it,” I mutter. I hit the call button.
She picks up on the second ring. “Are you drunk dialing?”
“No,” I scoff.
“But you have been drinking?”
“I had beers with the guys earlier.”
She tsks. “A moment on the lips…”
“Training diet starts tomorrow.”
“Fair enough. I cheated today, too.”
“What’d you do?”
“Had New Year’s lunch with the fam in Prairie.”
“You need a new car if you’re going to drive out there.” Prairie, Kansas is a good three hours from Kansas City. It’s where our baseball team hosts an exhibition fundraiser with a bunch of veterans. It’s a typical small western town, with one light and a diner with the best pie I’ve ever had. But Sparky’s car is a piece of shit. And the thought of her breaking down in the middle of the Flint Hills with no cell service, turns my insides cold.
