by Shey Stahl
“Okay, I can get down with that,” I tell him. “As long as they’re Jelly Belly.”
He winks, his breath hitting my face. “Only the best.”
My voice shakes when his hand moves even higher, his lips closer to the curve between my collarbone and neck that he’s been eyeing for the last hour. A nervous tremble works through my body. “What’s your favorite flavor?”
His tone is husky, a new distinct gravel present as he shifts me closer to his chest. “Buttered popcorn.”
His touch, voice, breathing, it sends a thrill through me, and I fight the urge to twist on his lap and straddle him. With my hand draped over his shoulder, I bunch the fabric of his dark T-shirt in my hand. “We can’t be friends.”
“We don’t have to be friends.” A gasp leaves my throat at his words, body arching into him. “I just want to fuck you.”
“You’re getting ahead of the count there, The Show.”
He leans in, swallowing hard. “Please?” A growl rumbles deep with him.
It’s then I realize this kid might be twenty-two, but our time together will be everything I’d hope for it to be.
He lifts his face, his eyes penetrating mine. “I’ll beg all night long if that’s what it takes.”
At his pleading, I’m reminded of how pretty he is. The pink pouty lips. The scruff across his jaw. The stain of red splashed on his cheeks from the alcohol. But I also realize he’s six years younger than me. Or, five years, seven months, and thirteen days, according to his calculations earlier when he asked how old I was. Don’t worry, you didn’t miss anything. I don’t want to revisit the fact that I’m older than him, so I left you out of that tidbit of information.
I stare at him, a tingle running up between my thighs.
His eyes drop to my lips, and I watch with rapt attention as his tongue darts out and wets his bottom lip. “Am I at least on the roster for this particular game?”
I sink forward and sag into him. “I think you might just be the starting pitcher.” And then I burst out laughing, hunching forward. “Even though your aim is shit.”
He scowls. “I have excellent aim… when sober.”
I reach over, pluck his hand from my thigh and take it in mine. “My house isn’t far.”
This refers to a pitcher throwing strikes that cross the zone just on the edge of the literal black border of home plate. “This pitcher is really painting the black.”
SYDNEY
A random hook up. I can do this, right? I should be able to. Yes, yes, I can do this.
Don’t worry, I don’t drive. I can barely walk in a straight line. Driving isn’t in my future. And I’ve seen Cason’s aim. He’s not driving my minivan.
Somewhere between us trying to leave the bar around one in the morning, I throw a dart at Forest. It landed in his shoulder. While it barely broke the skin, I still feel horrible.
Cason convinces me to leave after that, and we end up in an Uber pressed together without an inch of space. I have a brief second of wondering what the fuck am I doing when we leave the bar and Sadie takes my keys. Should I be doing this? Am I being disrespectful to the death of my husband taking a guy home one week after his death?
If you answered yes, have you lost your husband? Did he cheat on you? Did he lie about every aspect of the life you built with him?
That’s what I thought.
Still, pain slams into me, and I fight through emotions I don’t understand.
Fuck Collin.
Cason turns his face to mine. “Can I kiss you?”
The fear of what this means, or what I’m doing, eases at the sincerity in his words. Can I kiss you? Can he be any more adorable? Easiness works through me. “I’m surprised you’re asking.”
He searches my eyes in the darkness of the car. “I told you, I’m a nice guy.” His thumb sweeps across my lower lip at the release of his statement.
I don’t know why, but I glide the tip of my tongue over the pad of his calloused thumb. “I think I’d like it if you kissed me.”
His jaw flexes, desire flooding his eyes. “Fuck, that’s sexy.” There’s a pause on his part, and it’s as if everything is in slow motion.
“I think you’re sexy.” And then I bite down, lightly, on his thumb.
His hand moves, fingers inching forward and to the base of my skull. The slightest bit of pressure, and he leans in, pulling me toward him.
That’s when his mouth finally finds mine.
I know women want to romanticize that first kiss and go into all kinds of details about tingles, and he’s the most amazing kisser ever. She’s never had better and sees stars the moment his tongue glides into her mouth.
I’m here to set the record straight and tell you that all of those things do exist with the right person.
Does that happen with Cason?
Yes. All of it. He cups my cheeks, treats me with carefulness but still, there’s a spark of bad boy in there I’m dying to see come out and command the situation.
Deepening the kiss, he pushes me back against the seat. I hold onto his shoulders, never wanting him to stop kissing me. If I had to attribute his kissing to anything, I think it might be similar to… oh, fuck, I don’t know. I can’t think with his tongue in my mouth. It’s too much.
“Jesus Christ,” Cason gasps, his mouth inching closer and closer, his tender sound shivering up my spine. “I’ve been dying to taste you.”
I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that. “Me too” sounds weird because that’d mean I’m wanting to taste myself.
And “thank you” sounds conceited.
He doesn’t give me much of a chance before his right hand squeezes my thigh and slides up toward my ass. “Please tell me your house is close.” Peppering my lips with kisses, his hot mouth moves to my neck. “I can’t take much more of this teasing.”
“Not far,” I manage to say between kisses, a cluster of goose bumps tightening my nipples.
I move my hand from his shoulder, finding the hem of his shirt. Without much thinking, I sneak my hand to the bare skin beneath it.
Cason sucks in a quick breath, his kiss faltering. His stomach is rock-fucking-hard. Every inch of him I explore in the ten minutes it takes to get to my house is toned and tight. What I don’t touch is the juncture between his thighs. I’m saving myself. I mean, I’m saving that glorious moment because, girl, I’m well aware of the bulge there.
He whispers things to me I never thought I’d hear in my entire life. Certainly that boring banker of a husband would never say. Hell, Collin fucked with his socks on. That right there should tell you how normal he was in bed.
Cason Jarrett Reins. He’s nothing like that.
It starts with “I bet your clit is swollen. Throbbing like my fucking cock.”
Sexy, right?
I got one more for you. Hold your breath for this one.
Are you?
Actually, I have to explain where his hands are first. On my throat. He stops kissing me, eyes with fiery desire, and pants the words “I wanna see you choke on my cock and my cum on your lips,” he rasps, peering down at me as if he’s waiting for me to reply.
What happened to the nice guy?
Oh, who cares. I want this one fucking me into next Friday.
But do you want to know what I say in response?
“Okay.”
No, seriously, that’s what I say.
I panic. I want to reply with something equally as sexy but can’t think of anything.
During all of this, the Uber driver never shuts up. We’re completely oblivious to him, but he’s talking to us like we’re best friends he hasn’t seen in years. Cason is nice about it and offers a “cool man,” an “uh-huh” and a few other useless versions of answers to the guy but never stops touching me. I love that he can’t keep his hands off me.
Even though I know it’s not going past tonight, his attention is exactly what I need.
When the driver pulls up to my house, Cason tips the Uber�
��sadly. Remember? No money.
“I feel completely mortified that I don’t have any money.”
“It’s okay. I wasn’t gonna charge you for tonight.” He slips his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans, his breathing evening out. “First ride’s always free.”
I laugh, trying to dig my keys out of my bag. “That’s nice of you.”
Cason eyes the house, his footsteps raking against the stone path leading to the house. “How do you have this nice of a house and no money?”
“My husband.” I spit the word out with venom, glaring at the house. “He wasn’t paying the bills like I thought. I’m assuming all our money was going to keep his mistress happy.”
His chest meets my back, his head dipping forward to the spot he’d been eyeing all night. “He sounds like a douchebag, and I think I need to fuck you on his bed.”
“Why’s that?”
He turns me around and backs me up against the door. I swallow, unsure what happens next. He gives me a slow, sexy smile. Damn. Why haven’t I fucked a baseball player sooner? I know I was married, but I’d been around them my entire life. I should have considered them before today.
The air between us is tense as his eyes linger on my face. “Your husband really dead, or were you just saying that to get me to come home with you?”
“Is that why you came back here with me? Because my husband died, and you feel sorry for me?”
“Fuck no.” He blows out a breath, raking his hand through his hair. It’s at that point, his quick comebacks and vulgar words falter, and I sense the innocence he still possesses. Nervousness even. Blinking the emotion away, he smiles. “The only thing I’m sorry for is not taking you home sooner.”
I lick my lips, searching his face bathed in the golden light of my porch. My breathing falters like his did in the car as he traps me against the coolness of the door. “He’s dead. Car accident. Last week.”
His brow pulls together. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I was too, until I found out he wasn’t paying our bills and had a girlfriend on the side. Karma. Don’t fuck with karma.”
His lips quirk into a beautiful smile. “Noted.” Kissing me again, he pants against my lips, “How about you fuck me instead?”
“Show me the way.”
His eyes lift, his mouth parting from mine. “You have to unlock the door first.”
“Right.”
When a base runner is on second or third base, they are in scoring position.
SYDNEY
Don’t worry, I didn’t leave you hanging. We’re just about to the good stuff. So pay the fuck attention.
Inside the house, we waste no time getting to the bedroom upstairs. He trips twice in an attempt to carry me, and eventually, we end up in my bedroom. Where Collin and I slept. The thought isn’t lost on me, but I care about none of that as I try to wiggle my way out of my mom jeans.
I attempt to get them off when I smack my foot into the bedframe. “Son of a baseball!”
He laughs, helping me to the bed. “Need help?”
“If you don’t want me to knock myself out before we get to the good stuff, then yeah, help a girl out.”
With a gentle push, he lays me flat on the mattress and hastily removes his shirt. I’m not disappointed by what’s revealed. I mean, come on. Athletic twenty-two-year-old without a shirt on? It’s breathtaking to see such honed and perfect muscles. Again, I should have considered baseball players sooner.
Leaning forward, he plants both hands on the mattress when he notices my hesitation before I do. He moves between my legs hanging off the edge of the bed and toward him. A tenderness runs between us, and his movements slow. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t want to tell him that he might struggle to get these jeans off, and we should probably just cut them off, because that’s not what’s wrong here. He can read me better than I can. The truth is, the second I’m on that bed, and I look up at the ceiling, I’m reminded that I once shared this bedroom with another man, who wasn’t the one hovering over me.
He swallows and nods, but utters no words for a beat. “We don’t have to.”
I can’t keep my hands off him and start pawing at his chest, desperate to touch him. “It’s not that I don’t want to.”
He’s just as focused, refusing to take his hands off me. “Then what is it?”
“I’m usually not the kind of girl that does things like this.”
His mouth finds mine again, and for the first time, our no-no parts make friends. It’s amazing. I grind into him, wrapping my legs around his waist, desperate for more. His head falls forward, the muscles in his chest tightening as he flexes his hips forward. “You mean the kind that fucks a guy she met at a bar?”
“Yeah.” I wince. It sounds bad when he says it like that, doesn’t it? “But technically, I met you at coffee.”
“True.” A breath expands his chest, his muscles flexing with the movement. “But I don’t think that. I wouldn’t.”
Sitting up on my elbows, I crane my neck forward and take a deep breath. “You’re saying that so we’ll have sex, aren’t you?” I seek out his lips, wanting more of those kisses he gave me in the car.
“Well… yeah.” Raising one leg up on the bed, he circles his other arm around my waist, then he’s giving me his weight, desperately rocking into me. Oh, yes. That’s perfect. Fuck. If there’s one thing these tight-ass jeans are good for, it’s dry humping. I can even feel the ridges in his cock!
Be jealous. Be very jealous!
“At least you’re honest. Most guys wouldn’t be so honest.”
His kiss breaks, and his eyes dip to my chest and then my lips. “I’m joking. I don’t think that.” His brow knits together again. “Your husband died, and he was cheating on you.”
“Yeah. That.”
“It’s okay,” he whispers, his mouth dipping to my collarbone. His kiss paints seductively across my chest. “You can have fun yourself. He’s not holding you back anymore. Now it’s my turn to make you forget he even existed at all.”
His words are exactly what I need to hear and sparks a fiery desire I can’t put out. I push back and remove my shirt. The pants will be a different story.
With the same intensity he had in the bar, his eyes roam over my body, and suddenly, I’m self-conscious. I’m naked—almost—vulnerable, and his eyes are blazing with desire, confirming there’s no need for insecurities here. He wouldn’t have come here if he didn’t want this.
“You are fucking beautiful,” he tells me, lifting up to work on his belt buckle. There’s a clanking of his belt and the sound of his zipper lowering.
Yes! Now we’re getting to the good stuff. I motion to my own jeans, struggling. “I’m gonna need help with these jeans.”
Before he takes his off, he smiles and reaches for my hips. “It’d be my pleasure.” His fingers glide over the band to the edges and then curl around it, dipping inside and gathering my panties with it. Okay, so no wasting any time.
Shit, did I shave down there?
Oh, who cares. I’m never gonna see this guy again. Just let go and fuck him.
“Though you looked amazing in these, I’m not sad to see them go.”
“I’m not either. I couldn’t breathe,” I tease, wiggling out of them as he pulls them down. “Now hurry. Take yours off. I don’t want to be the only one naked.”
“Trying to steal home, are you?” He winks and then lowers his jeans.
Gulp.
His bat… I’m not disappointed. I can’t get a very good look in the darkness, but it’s enough to know that he’s bigger than Collin. Ha. Take that, you lying piece of shit.
I reach forward and stroke him once. He draws in a quick hissing breath, his shoulders hunching forward. “Goddamn.”
I fight back a squeal of delight. “Do you have a condom?”
Swallowing, he nods and reaches down to his jeans. I watch with just as much rapt attention as I did when he took his shirt off as I do when he pu
ts the damn condom on. It’s almost artful in the way he moves. Once he has it on, I scoot back on the bed to the center.
Breathing deeply, he smiles and climbs on with me, falling on top of me in the process. “Sorry.” He laughs, easing up. It’s then, between the fumbling and the lazy eyes, I realize he’s pretty drunk. I wonder if he’ll remember this, or if I will. I’m amazed I haven’t passed out yet. “Little clumsy here.”
With the pounding in my chest, I think it’s my anxiety for what comes next that keeps me from doing so. “Let’s hope your aim’s not off now.” I wave my finger in his face. “No backfield here.”
He bites my finger. “Your baseball innuendos are turning me on.”
I yank him forward, and he lands on my body with an oomph. “Batter up.”
The head of his cock hits my entrance, but he doesn’t enter me yet. He waits until I’m looking at him. His kiss returns, as do those dirty words from earlier when he slides inside me. “I hope he’s watching because you’re never going to remember him inside your pussy again.” He slams forward, with no hesitation. “Only me. Every time you move, you’ll think of me.”
“You’re awfully confident there.” I hold onto his shoulders, sucking on his lip.
He lifts his head, gazing down at me but doesn’t say anything. The dirty smirk is enough.
His vow for me to forget about Collin?
Truth. Every single touch, kiss, thrust, it will forever be engrained with the memory of this guy. I mean, Jesus Christ. I should’ve been hanging out at the college campus a lot sooner.
His movements are smooth and steady, but it’s those damn kisses that are so fucking magical. Had he gone to school to kiss like this? Because I feel it in my freaking toes.
I look up at him at some point, feeling a lot like a spider monkey at the way I’m clinging to him, my breathing becoming heavier seeing the carnal hunger raging in his blue eyes. “Come for me, baby. Come all over my dick,” he rasps, peering down at me, grunting with every stroke. “Soak my balls with your cum.”
