Bigger Than Beckham

by V. K. Sykes

  “Come right here and let Nurse Martha take a good look at that,” she teased. “I’m sure I can figure out something to do about it.”

  He grinned. “I’m counting on it.”

  Then he was leaning over her, taking her mouth with a sweet passion. He lingered, kissing her with a hunger that grew quick and urgent. When she broke away, gasping, trying to draw him down to her, Tony gently pushed her back on the sofa.

  He moved on top of her, spreading her legs wide and coming between her thighs. She started to wrap her legs around him, but stopped. “My shoes. I’d better take them off before I stab you with my heels.”

  “No way. I’ve been having fantasies about them all night,” he said.

  “But I don’t want to poke you with the stilettos.”

  He reached back one arm and guided her legs into position, tight against his thighs. “Don’t worry. I’m the only one who’s going to be doing any poking around here.”

  She groaned and fell back onto the cushions. “Tony, that was really bad, even for you.”

  Tony propped himself up on his elbows, grinning down at her. He looked so handsome and powerful—so much the fantasy she’d often dreamed about these last two years—that her heart fluttered madly.

  “I can’t believe we’re actually going to do this,” she whispered.

  He leaned down and kissed her on the tip of her nose. “It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it, mate?”

  She laughed, glad he’d broken the tension. “Is this the kind of thing you usually do with your mates?”

  “No,” he said, and his eyes went all lusciously dark and smoky again. “But it’s what I’m going to do with you.” He pushed slowly inside her, parting her slick folds with his outrageously thick erection. It drove the air from her lungs and she skated on the edge of pain. But the feel of him inside her, rubbing against every clenching muscle, soon had her drowning in pleasure. And when he began to move, she wrapped her arms around his neck and arched into him.

  “That’s it,” he growled. “Rub those sweet tits against me, babe.”

  She didn’t do it to tease him. She did it because she had to, because it felt so wonderful to rub her tight nipples across the cut muscles of his chest, dragging the exquisite points of sensation through his coarse hair. She was awash in sensation, her entire body winding tight as he thrust into her. He felt hot and huge, and when he reached under her, tilting her bottom up to bring her clit into hard contact with his groin, she cried out, almost pitching over the edge.

  But she didn’t want it—not yet. She wanted more of this hard ride. She wanted him to stay inside her, connected with her in all the ways she’d dreamed about and given up on a long time ago.

  Biting her lip, Martha held on tight, refusing to let herself go. She clutched his iron biceps, forcing her eyelids open against the daze of pleasure that threatened to shut him out. She didn’t want to miss one moment of connection with him, even if it meant denying the wild satisfaction her body craved.

  Tony surged into her with a steady, drugging rhythm, his eyes narrowed to black, glittering slits that tracked her every move. His skin was bronzed under the soft lights of the suite, his warm scent an intoxicating mix of clean sweat and healthy male.

  “Come on, love,” he whispered. “Let yourself go. I want to see you come apart in my arms.”

  Martha clamped down hard, holding back her impeding orgasm. “Not yet,” she said through clenched teeth. “Feels too good.”

  But there was another reason she held back. She needed him to let go too, preferably before she did. He had overwhelmed her. This had overwhelmed her in a passionate display of emotional fireworks. She was hanging on by a thread, biting back words she didn’t want to say and that he surely wouldn’t want to hear.

  If he lost control first, she might—just by a whisper—be able to hold all that wild emotion at bay.

  His eyes flared hot, as if she’d issued him a challenge. He slid one arm low around her back and grasped her hip with the other. With an easy, but stunning display of strength, he brought her up and then arched her back over his arm, thrusting her breasts up in a tempting pout. As he bent over her, she heard him utter two words.

  “Let. Go.”

  Then his mouth fastened over her nipple, sucking hard.

  Electricity zinged through Martha’s body and she rocked into him with a shriek. As her climax bolted through her, she clung to him, every nerve jolted by the sensation. Shudders wracked her body and her tight inner muscles contracted around his thick length. When the contractions took her, rippling through their joined flesh, Tony jerked, pulling back from her breast and letting out a harsh groan. As she clung to him, he gave one last, hard thrust and hung suspended over her for a few moments, his cock pulsating within her.

  Then they both collapsed in a sweaty tangle of limbs and beating hearts and—in Martha’s case, at least—a stunned sense of hell, yes. That was the best sex, ever.

  And then…I am so in trouble here.

  She struggled to get both her breathing and her scattered thoughts under control. As the seconds passed, her breathing slowed but her thoughts—and her emotions—ping-ponged through her brain.

  With a groan, Tony lifted his head from her shoulder and rolled to his side, snuggling her between his chest and the back of the couch.

  “You okay?” he asked after a few moments. “You’re a bit quiet.”

  She opened her eyes to meet his concerned gaze.

  Get a grip, girl, and just go with it.

  “I was just thinking about something,” she said.

  “And what would that be?”

  His wary tone brought a smile to her lips.

  “Well, I was congratulating myself on passing on leather furniture when I decorated this suite. Given the level of our, ah, exertions, we’d be in a whole mess of trouble right now if I’d gone with leather instead of cotton.” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “You think rug burn is bad. You haven’t known pain until—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips and stared down at her, torn between laughter and exasperation. “We just blew the roof of this place, and that’s what’s on your mind?”

  She rounded her eyes in mock innocence. “Why, Mr. Branch. What else would I be thinking about?”

  For good measure, she wriggled against him, nudging her pelvis into his groin. He sucked in a breath and she had to admit that her heartbeat picked up too. She also had a feeling it would not be an easy thing to forget what had just happened between them.

  A wry smile curled Tony’s lips. “You are a wicked, wicked woman, Martha Winston.”

  She sighed and patted his chest. “It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it.”

  He bent his head to brush an achingly tender kiss across her lips.

  Lord. Who knew such a big, tough guy could be so sweet, too?

  Martha curled her hands around his shoulders, giving herself up to the pleasure of being held securely in his arms. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so good. Why, she actually felt…happy.

  “I’m glad you took on the job,” Tony said when he finally drew back. His gaze flicked down to her chest, and his hand followed a moment later. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to spend more time on these, though,” he said as he ran the tip of his finger around her nipple.

  Martha shivered with pleasure. “You must be a boob man.”

  His gaze came back up, suddenly unnerving in its intensity. “When it comes to you, I’m an everything man.”

  The flutter of yearning in her chest caught her off guard. “Oh, I like that,” she whispered.

  He glanced at the big, old-fashioned clock on the wall. “We still have a ways to go till the end of the game.” He shifted again, rolling on his back and lifting her up to straddle him.

  Martha let out a squeak and grabbed his shoulders. “Mr. Branch! Whatever are you doing?”

  His big hands curled around her breasts, giving them a provocative squeeze. “We
ll, I don’t want you to think I’m neglecting any part of you in any way whatsoever, so I thought we could have another go at it.”

  She sat up straight—well, as straight as she could while straddling a hot, naked man who played with her breasts. Propping her hands on her hips, she leveled him with her best southern belle glare.

  “Have a go at it?” she said, trying not to laugh. Honestly, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun.

  He gave her a lazy, seductive smile, one that sent another hot flush coursing through her veins. “Well, whatever you want call it,” he purred, teasing her nipples, “I suggest we do it again.”

  She reached up to cover his big hands, pressing them tightly against her. “Mr. Branch, I do believe you have read my mind.”

  * * *

  Martha gazed sleepily up at the ceiling of her bedroom, her body cozy warm and utterly satisfied. Though it was dark, enough moonlight infiltrated the half-closed drapes for her to make out the long, meandering crack in the ceiling plaster that had been bugging her every time she got into bed and looked up at it. She made a mental note to finally call her father’s handyman. After all, struggling against the probable loss of her team was no excuse for letting everything else in her life fall to rack and ruin.

  Tony’s warm breath and stubbled cheek felt blissful against her naked breasts. He’d dozed off peacefully a few minutes ago, pretty much sprawled on top of her. She’d cradled him, softly stroking his thick hair as his breathing gradually returned to normal after another bout of very impressive sex. As for her, she remained as wired as a lab rat on speed. Here she was, four orgasms later, all warm and snuggly, and she couldn’t even begin to shut down her racing brain.

  As they slinked out of the stadium, Martha had recalled vaguely that Tony mentioned the Thunder trailed three-zip with a minute or so to go in the match. At that point, he might as well have given her the weather forecast for some town in northern Peru—that was how little the news had affected her at the time. But now, hours later, her reaction struck her as mighty odd. Had sex with Tony Branch really dulled her brain to that extent? Or had it simply been temporarily transported to a whole other set of very welcome coordinates?

  She opted for the latter. The second Tony captured her mouth in that first insane chocolate and strawberry kiss she’d abandoned any concerns about where she was or even about the match. Only one thing had obviously mattered to both of them—getting their clothes off as soon as humanly possible. And they’d certainly accomplished that. Tony had proven himself exceptionally adept at the art of helping a lady out of a tight skirt in a most pleasing way. She, on the other hand, had been a whole lot less careful, practically ripping the tee shirt right off his brawny chest.

  They hadn’t talked all that much after that—not about anything serious, anyway. Avoiding the problematic stuff had been just fine with her. In fact, she didn’t even want to think about the intensity of their encounter too much, because that creaked open the door to a whole host of potentially troublesome emotions. Martha had desperately needed a temporary escape from the harsh realities she was facing and Tony had given her a riotously good one. One of the best ever, without a word of a lie.

  “But was that all it was?” she mumbled, only dimly aware that she’d actually spoken the words out loud.

  “Unhhh…” Tony’s head rose an inch off her chest, but then immediately settled back down. “What did you say, love?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she hastily said. “I was talking to myself. Just dopey mumbling, really.” Martha stroked his head again, wanting to keep it exactly where it was. She’d happily lie like that for the rest of the night. It was already nearly three in the morning—she’d glanced at the bedside clock repeatedly as she lay awake—wondering when and if he’d get up and go back to his hotel. She didn’t much like the idea of ending the night alone in her big, empty bed.

  “What time is it?” he slurred in a sleepy voice.

  His bristle rasped deliciously against her breast. She slid the tips of her fingers down the long, smooth muscles of his back, then traced his spine back up to his neck. “Going on three,” she whispered.

  Tony lifted his head and then raised himself up on his elbow. He yawned and rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Did you doctor that beer? I’m not sure whether I was dreaming about something great right now, or thinking it.”

  She let out a dramatic sigh. “You got me. I doctored your drink with an aphrodisiac I picked up the last time I paid a visit to the witch doctor. It worked too, didn’t it, since I got my evil way with you. And multiple times, too, as I recall.”

  He leaned down and licked at her earlobe, then kissed her neck in a lazy, sensual way that sent tendrils of fire shooting all the way south of the equator. “You think I need drugs to want to shag you, Martha Winston? Are you entirely daft?”

  Martha stroked his bristly cheek. “Oh, my. You are such a sweet talker, Tony Branch.”

  He gently squeezed one of her stiffening nipples between his thumb and finger, drawing a gasp of pleasure. “Look who’s talking?” he said with a lustful grin. “Hell, some of the things you said back in that suite…All I can say is I’m just glad I’d switched on that digital recorder I always carry in my jacket pocket. The gossip rags will love it.”

  Martha instantly reached her hand below the bedcovers, found her target and squeezed just a wee bit harder than he’d probably enjoy.

  “Easy there, love,” he gasped.

  “You’re a blackmailing beast, Branch. And are you telling me you didn’t enjoy my…er, enthusiasm?”

  “Absolutely not,” he said with a mock grimace, “and certainly not when you’ve taken possession of my—aaahh.”

  Martha released the family jewels, sliding the flat of her hand up his cock, now as hard and long as ever. “Would it be all right if I retained possession for the whole night?” she said sweetly. “I can throw together a pretty mean breakfast. I may even have some bangers in the freezer.”

  “No self-respecting Englishman could say no to that offer,” Tony said.

  His tongue was practically hanging out as Martha stroked his cock, already aching to have it deep inside her again. She craved him, and she was beginning to worry that the craving might turn into a permanent hunger.

  Time for a distraction.

  “Before we get too carried away,” she said, “are you going to tell me what it was you were dreaming or thinking about? Something great, if I recall correctly.”

  Tony leaned down and gave her a searing kiss that curled her toes and tightened her grip on his shaft.

  “We were in England,” he said a bit breathlessly. “I’d just taken you to a Lions match, and then we had dinner at Harry’s Bar. And after that we—”

  “Went back to your place and screwed our brains out?” Martha said.

  Tony rolled his eyes. “I was aiming for something a tad more delicate than that. You certainly don’t mince words, Ms. Winston.”

  “It’s true. I’ve never been much of a mincer,” she said, then arched up and kissed him languidly.

  “Well?” he asked when she let him up for air.

  “Well what?” Martha replied in a dreamy voice.

  “Well, doesn’t that sound like a bloody good idea to you? London, I mean. And right now. Come back with me, Martha.” His voice was light, but his gaze trapped her with its intensity.

  Although her mouth had instinctively dropped open in surprise, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought about something along those lines—at least in her fantasies. But the fact that he voiced it, that he wanted to see more of her, and fast—that part was unexpected.

  Suddenly, she knew she wanted that too, despite whatever complications might result. And if she wanted to see him again, somebody was going to have to cross a big old ocean. He’d come to her first—albeit for a sort of different agenda—so the ball seemed to be in her court.

  “I suppose there’s a chance I could be talked into something like that,” she
said slowly, trying to process the implications through her struggling brain. “A chance.”

  “There’ll be plenty of empty seats on the plane.” He shifted, bracketing her head between his forearms. “Really, I know you’re in crisis mode here, but I’ll wager a few days in London would do you a world of good,” he said with an encouraging smile.

  It was not only an insanely tempting prospect, his logic actually made some sense, too. Still, the thought of jumping on a plane to England in the middle of her current mess seemed irresponsible. At the very least, she and Kieran had to sit down with their accountant again to figure out if they could meet the horrific cost-cutting targets the bank had demanded.

  “Tempting, very tempting,” she mused as she trailed her fingers along his shoulder blades. “At any other time…”

  He stroked her hair gently as he cradled her head. “I understand. The timing isn’t the best. But it could take a while for you to get things get sorted out here, and in the meantime I figured you could use a break. Have a bit of fun,” he coaxed.

  “Sorted out,” she said with a little snort. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  Presiding over her team’s demise was another way, and Martha was under no illusions that the bank was going to give her the room she needed. Every instinct, every fiber of her being told her there was something going on between the bank and Steam Train, and that feeling had only grown since her meeting with them yesterday morning. Those bastards had something up their collective sleeves, something that foreshadowed a world of hurt for her.

  No, she couldn’t count on the bank to bail her out. She needed an infusion of cash from somewhere else, enough to give her and Kieran a fighting chance to keep the team alive for another season.

  She stared up at Tony, wondering if the answer had truly been in front of her all along. Could it really be that simple? He wanted to own her team outright, not invest in it—he’d made that as plain as his desire to get her into bed. But could he be persuaded to invest if she really worked at it? Maybe if they spent some more time together as he’d suggested, and if she had the chance to show him how much this meant to her, he might begin to see reason.