Line of Scrimmage: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (Pass To Win Book 2)

by Roxy Sinclaire

  He places his hand just below my mound, his fingers tracing the edge of my panties, and then he slides the tips of two fingers under the elastic.

  I gasp at his touch, so close to my most private part.

  “Are you alright?” he asks. Ryan has not removed his hand from just inside my panties but he stops his progress and holds it steady. He is so close to my center that I know he can feel the heat coming from inside me. His breath is hot on my thighs as he waits for me to answer.

  “I’m good, I’m great,” I moan. I hope he gets the message that I’m desperate for him to keep going. His fingers inch ever closer to my opening. I spread my legs a fraction to make it easier for him, I am aching for his touch. I need him to free this longing in me before I explode with pent-up desire.

  He moves the lace crotch of my panties aside and I hear his breath hitch in his throat. He traces one long tapered finger up the seam of my wet lips. I want to cover my face when a low moan escapes my throat and my legs spread wider. Ryan catches my hands in his free one.

  “Don’t be embarrassed by your body doing what comes naturally. Let me pleasure you, Aria.” His voice is husky with lust and I can’t resist.

  He caresses my outer lips with his hand and strokes the length of my heat. He pulls his hand away. “Don’t stop,” I plead.

  “I haven’t even started yet, baby.” He hooks his fingers around the lace band of my panties and rolls them down my hips and then all the way off. He has hunger and pure desire in his eyes when he looks down at me.

  “Spread your legs wider for me. I want to see all of you.” I hesitate for a heartbeat but then I do as he requests. I want him to see all of me. I don’t want to hide myself from Ryan anymore.

  “You are so beautiful,” he says in a low growl. He undoes the buttons of his shirt and pulls it off. I have seen his perfectly sculpted abs and chest at the club but it’s different when it’s here in his bedroom and we are about to be intimate for the first time. He undoes his pants and peels them and his underwear off together. My eyes widen in disbelief and awe. His well-defined torso tapers down to the length of his manhood that is engorged and ready for me.

  He grips his hardness and kneels between my legs. He lets go of himself and skates his fingertips across my wet mound. I arch myself up and open myself even wider for him. He groans and slips two fingers into me and then slowly pulls them out. I am panting with the need for him to put them back inside of me.

  Then he enters me with three fingers and pushes them deeper this time. He pulls them out slowly and then enters again.

  My breath catches in my throat. Holding my gaze with his emerald eyes, he pulls out his fingers and traces a path up my torso across my ribs, leaving a trail of my own wetness on my burning flesh.

  “Let’s take this off.”

  With one quick motion my bra is off and I can’t help but wonder how many times he’s done this. He is so sure of himself and so ready to pleasure me. How do I compete with all of the more experienced women who have come before me?

  He must feel my body tense up. He holds himself over me and then drops his head to kiss my lips. The kiss is soft and intimate and takes my breath away. I wrap my arms around him and twine my fingers into his hair. My skin looks like alabaster against his dark hair. I return his kiss with passion and draw him tighter to me. His erection presses hard against my thigh. My mound is throbbing and I arch up, powerless to resist my own eagerness.

  He rolls his thumbs over my hardened nipples and new waves of pleasure rouse my body. He palms my breasts in his strong hands and whispers in my ear that they are the perfect size. Then he takes each peaked nipple into his mouth in turn. He swirls his tongue around my points and just grazes the sensitive skin with his teeth. This sends shivers of excitement straight to my core.

  “You like that?” he mumbles against my tender globes.

  “I do, yes,” I pant, wanting more.

  This time his mouth closes around my nipple, and he suckles me. His teeth just barely bite down on my peaks. The pleasure and pain rips through me and I pull on his hair to keep him where he is. He teases my nipple with his tongue and his teeth.

  His hardened shaft is throbbing against me and I don’t think I can take much more of this. I moan his name and spread my legs to straddle him. His fullness is lying against the junction between my thighs.

  “Aria,” he sighs and he maneuvers himself to my entrance. The tip of his member pulses against my womanhood and I know without a doubt that this is what I want.

  I want Ryan to be my first and only. I reach my hand down between and encircle his sex, letting him know I want this as much as he does. Ryan nudges his swollen head into me and I cry out. It is painful, but I expected it.

  “Be a little more gentle, baby,” I tell him.

  He slowly goes in and out, trying to limit the pain. It starts to go away and I can feel the pleasure now. The full length of him drives into me and my tight dampness closes around him. If I had known it would feel like this, I would have insisted he take me home the night we met.

  He fills me to the point of bursting and when I think I can’t possibly take an inch more, the base of his shafts connects with me and my depths are reached. I dig my nails into his shoulder and he grunts with exertion, thrusting in and out, filling me completely with each plunge of his phallus.

  My every fiber is electrified and in the throes of pleasure, I say his name over and over. The muscles of my inner wall tighten around his rigid girth and swells of pleasure wash over me. My chest is heaving for breath and all I want is more, even when I think I can’t stand anymore.

  “Aria,” Ryan says. His voice is strained and I can tell he’s barely holding on. “I’m there,” I tremble. I can’t say where there is but I know my body and mind are somewhere they’ve never been.

  His thrusts come faster and harder, and each one brings me closer to a climax. Every muscle in my body is shaking and I no longer have a voice to call out his name.

  “Baby I can’t, I’m coming,” he gasps. All I can do is meet his passion. My hips buck up against his and at the same time we both come. The walls of my womanhood spasm and clench tightly around his pulsing cock. Even the tiny muscles in my eyelids are twitching with pleasure and release. I am spent and raw and can’t keep a huge smile from spreading across my face.

  Ryan lifts himself off of me and his smile is just as big. “That is the most, I don’t have the words, that was incredible. You are amazing.” He leans in and kisses my forehead and then my lips.

  My eyelids flutter and I think I can now drop into the best sleep I have ever had. “We are not even close to being done,” Ryan growls. “Now open those pretty blue eyes because I am going to give you the most amazing night of your life.”

  I didn’t think it was possible but my entire body ignites at his words, and I am even more aroused than I was.

  “You’re mine,” he says, his voice fractured and shaky. And I release myself to him because I am his and he is mine.

  16

  Ryan

  I have fallen asleep, or more accurately, passed out, in bed with countless hook-ups. My go to concern when I wake-up, is how do I most easily get out of this room, apartment, or house without causing a scene. I hate to see a woman cry and I really don’t like to be the cause of any tears. But some women, no matter how up front you are with them about it only being one night lose it in the morning when I make my exit. When this happens, I find myself faced with the choice of whether to stay and soothe her or make my excuses and head for the hills.

  My Grandma Trent used to say, “It’s time for us to head for the hills,” whenever things got tough at home. She also used the saying when she would tell me the story about how she ended up a single mother, and stayed single her entire life.

  “Ryan boy,” she said. “I knew things were becoming serious and I don’t do serious, so I headed for the hills.”

  Maybe my distaste for commitment was passed down by Grandma and living solo
is so deeply ingrained into my DNA, that it is useless to fight it. This is what I have always believed, anyway. While it may be an easy justification for my behavior and one I like being able to fall back on, that doesn’t make it true. And just because my Grandma Trent was happy being alone her whole life, doesn’t mean I have to be.

  The unavoidable truth is that I never felt bad about being a player. But this morning is crushing my belief that I’m pre-wired to be a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy.

  Because what I can’t deny is that this morning, when I woke up with Aria wrapped in my arms, it felt like this is the way things are supposed to be. I hug her tighter and I want nothing more than for this moment to last forever. She looks so peaceful and she is so warm and soft and it feels like she was molded to fit perfectly in my arms.

  And she doesn’t just fit perfectly in my arms. Every part of her fits me like a glove and responds to my touch. And my body reacts to her like it never has to another woman. I always like to satisfy a woman first before reaching my own climax but last night I couldn’t hold back when I could feel her reaching her first orgasm. It was perfection when we climaxed together. And then I had to make up for my lack of discipline and bring her to release three more times. After her last moans of pleasure, we collapsed into each other’s arms and here we are, in the exact same position and I don’t want to move a muscle.

  I don’t have a name for what I’m feeling and I don’t care. I just want to enjoy whatever it is and worry about what it means later. Right now, with Aria in my arms and watching the sun rise over the city from the bedroom window, I know that I’m happy.

  As happy as I am right now, I do have some fear as to how she will react when she wakes up. This was the first time she has been with a man and it may be a lot for her to handle. But I was worrying for no reason. She is as comfortable with me as if we’ve been waking up in each other’s arms for years.

  And then she blew my mind with a good morning kiss and a hand on my manhood. Her hand slides down my shaft, which is quickly growing in girth and cups my balls. I groan and push against her hand. Her kisses leave my mouth and make a trail across my jaw and down my neck. She is now kissing my chest and swirls her tongue around my nipple.

  “Oh, that feels good,” I groan.

  I am about to pull her up on top of me but then she disappears under the sheets and licks a trail to my aching cock. When her lips circle around the tip, I just about lose it. Where has this girl been my whole life, is the last coherent thought I have before she brings me to climax with her mouth.

  “Where did you learn to do that?” I ask her.

  “Well, I haven’t been completely honest,” she replies. “I have done stuff with my mouth and my hands in the past, though I’m not proud of it. But I don’t have any regrets now.” She looks at me, slightly worried.

  “I will let it slide, just this once,” I tell her with a reassuring smile.

  It’s not quite an hour later and we are both panting for a breath and ravenous for a big breakfast.

  “Do you have any food here? I am so hungry I could eat a hotdog from a street vendor.”

  I laugh uproariously at this and keep it to myself that I do on occasion enjoy a New York cart dog.

  “I always keep a fully stocked kitchen and I love to cook. So what would my gorgeous lady like to have this morning?”

  “If you have the ingredients, and I totally understand if you don’t …” she hesitates.

  “Aria, you just gave me the best night of my life. Don’t be shy about asking me for what you want for breakfast.”

  She blushes but willingly accepts my offer.

  “It would be the perfect start to my first day as a new woman,” she looks away shyly when she says this. “If we can have blueberry pancakes with maple syrup, real sausage, some fruit, and coffee.”

  “Do you have a specific fruit in mind or can it be chef’s choice?” I tease.

  “Chef’s choice of fruit is fine,” she says. “My nana used to make the most awesome blueberry pancakes in the world but she would only make them on special occasions.”

  “I will do my best to live up to your nana’s pancakes, and if this isn’t a special occasion I don’t know what is.”

  I worry for a second that I don’t have any pancake mix after I promised her a stocked kitchen. But I do have the ingredients to make the pancakes from scratch, so that’s what I do.

  “You’re my hero,” Aria says.

  “Don’t say that until you’ve tasted them,” I reply.

  We sit in front of heaping plates of food, and Aria cleans her plate like a hungry teenager after a big game. I feel so good sitting here with her eating breakfast like we are a couple, that I am starting to get nervous.

  Aria may not be feeling lonely and vulnerable right now, but that will all change once she gets tired of being poor and serving drinks for a living. She would be a fool not to go home. What makes this all so difficult is that I don’t want her to leave.

  We finish our coffee and I suggest a walk. I need some fresh air to clear my head. We’ve spent one night together and I’m already freaking out.

  As we walk down the street, we hold hands and enjoy the sunshine. Everyone who walks by us smiles and I even hear one older lady say “young love,” when she nods and passes us.

  I wish I could tell Aria everything I’m feeling but the words won’t come out. Instead, I listen to her talk about how she is going to look for a better job and how she wants to cook for me because now I’ve taken her out to eat and made her breakfast. She chatters away and has no idea that every word she says is making me more and more nervous.

  Sure, I got my GED but I don’t have anything to turn to yet besides dancing. So while I feel better about myself and what I can do I don’t know how to actually change my situation. Aria, on the other hand, is full of ideas on what she can do in the future and how she can get out of the club.

  I do my best not to let these insecurities ruin our time together and I think I do a good job of showing her a great day in the city. I even surprise myself when I ask her to stay the night. The fact is, I want her here when I get back from work tonight. I don’t want to go to an after-hours club or to hang out at the bar with Theresa serving me free drinks. I don’t even want to see what hot women are out on the prowl for a man to spend the night with. I want to come home tonight and have dinner with Aria and I don’t care what she cooks; I will eat it and like it because she made it for us.

  Aria happily agrees to come back tonight.

  “I need to go to Theresa’s and get some clean clothes and pick up a bottle of wine for dinner.”

  “I’ll see you tonight.” I give her a quick kiss and head out into the night.

  I dance better than I have in some time tonight. All the pressures of getting my diploma and sorting things out with Aria are gone. It’s like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. It’s not until after I’ve collected my tips for the night and the guys ask me if I’m going out to find some ready pussy that a new set of worries comes crashing down on me.

  “I’m going home tonight,” I tell them.

  “Temptation’s going home early? Guess there is a first time for everything. Next thing you know pigs will be flying in the sky,” Cole says.

  I’m too preoccupied with the creeping fear that Aria isn’t going to be waiting for me in my apartment to be bothered by their ribbing.

  “I’m just giving you guys a fighting chance with the girls for once,” I say. I head out of the club before they can ask me any more questions about why I’m not going out.

  I get home and take a deep breath before opening the door. Not only am I not used to having a woman in my apartment cooking for me, I am not used to thinking I’m not good enough and that I’m going to be left before things even get started.

  Screw it, I tell myself. I am better than the life I have and it’s time to be more. I open the door and no smells of dinner in the oven or noises from the kitchen greet me. I
am instead stopped dead in my tracks. Aria is sitting on the couch with a woman who has to be her mother. She looks just like Aria, only older and worn down by years of bitterness.

  Aria looks like she has been crying and I am torn by my desire to comfort her and to hold back any show of emotion until I can figure out just what the hell is going on. Aria looks up when I walk in and shrinks back into the couch away from me.

  “Ryan,” she says. “This is my mother, Jacqueline. She came because my father is sick.”

  I don’t say anything in response so she continues on. “She wants me to go home and see him.”

  She looks at me with those big blue eyes and I want to scream, “Don’t go!”

  Instead I rush over to her and embrace her tightly. I tell her, “I’m sorry about your father. Is there anything I can do? Can I come with you?”

  Aria looks up at me and starts to talk, but her mother interjects. “We have only two tickets for the flight, and we need to leave immediately,” she tells us in a stern voice.

  I stand there, unsure of what to do. “I’ll call and get a flight too!” I tell her.

  Her mother gives me the once over and walks to the door. “Come, Aria,” she says. “There is nothing for you here.”

  Aria follows blindly but then stops and looks at me beseechingly when she gets to the door. I turn away from her, not able to watch her leave or ask her to stay.

  “Have a safe flight,” I say, while I turn around, upset at the situation. I let the door close behind her without another word.

  17

  Aria

  I recline the seat back and try to watch a movie. But even first class and a romantic comedy can’t ease the tension between us. My mother and I have barely spoken since we left for the airport. And now that we are on the flight, she is sitting next to me and pretending to be as engrossed in a fashion magazine as I am in the movie.