The cool water slapped at her sex, which felt divine. Everything was freer, more sensual in the water, cleaner.
Troy wouldn’t let her budge more than six inches. “Where’re you trying to go?” He growled. “I see something I want to eat.”
A flash of heat streaked through her, causing the little bud at her center to throb almost painfully. The thought of his mouth on her, tongue flicking skillfully, suction applied just right…
He grinned at her wolfishly. “You want me to kiss you there, don’t you?”
She swallowed and didn’t reply, just closed her eyes halfway and willed him to do it.
“You want me to treat you like an ice-cream cone. Lick all around the edges, catch any drips, maybe take a little bite off the top now and then.”
She was going to come from him just talking to her.
He dipped her down into the water and it lapped against her, coolness sliding and swirling along her hot flesh. She gasped and opened her thighs even wider, helpless under the promise of more pleasure.
Troy sank into the water so that the backs of her knees rested on his shoulders. She almost dug her heels into his back to urge him forward, but she was too inhibited. He wasn’t her sex slave, after all! But heaven help her, she wanted him to be.
His hands moved all over her ass in the water, stroking and squeezing, fingers dipping into the cleft of her bottom and then moving along her inner thighs. She jerked to the side once or twice so that he’d touch her where she wanted to be touched, but he just laughed and moved quickly out of the way.
“You’re torturing me,” she said, her voice sounding plaintive to her own ears.
“You catch on fast.”
“Please, Troy…”
“Please what?”
“Touch me.”
“I am touching you.”
She lost all shame and did dig her heels into his back. His only response was to chuckle softly. He lifted her bottom to the surface of the water and moved a little closer to her. Close enough to blow warm air there, while she arched her back mindlessly and tried to reach him.
He let her twist in the wind.
“Please,” she moaned again.
“Please what? Say it. Say, ‘Troy, I want you—’”
“Troy, I want you,” she repeated hoarsely.
“To eat me.”
She balked at that. “I can’t say that, it’s too dirty!”
“You can’t say it, but you want me to do it.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Like this?” He licked her from the bottom of her sex to the top.
She gave a strangled cry.
He stabbed his tongue inside her, making circular motions, and she whimpered with mindless gratitude. Then he fastened his lips over her clitoris and sucked.
She came absolutely unglued, thrashing and crying out as wave after wave of sharp, tingling pleasure hit and crested over her.
He entered her on the last crescendo, in one stroke, and impossibly she came again, this time from somewhere deep inside, spasm after spasm while he drove into her, until she felt like a rag doll…and then felt nothing at all except for the blunt tip of him sliding in and out of her, the fullness, and finally his own frenzy as he built to climax. His strong fingers dug into her hips as he came, and she took pleasure in his pleasure as he jerked within her, guttural sounds coming from his throat.
He wrapped his arms around her and opened his eyes to look down into hers. “You are something else, woman.”
“You’re, uh—” she fingered his collarbone and touched a mole that grew next to it “—you’re passable yourself.” She grinned at his outraged glare, his dropped jaw.
“Passable?” He looked up and addressed the trees. “The little vixen says I’m passable. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t heard it with my own ears!” Troy got down to the serious business of tickling her while she shrieked.
“Stop! Stop! I didn’t mean it,” Peggy panted, trying to get away from him.
“Repeat after me—‘Troy, you are a sex god.’ No, ‘Troy, you are the sex god!’”
“Aaaaiiieeeee!” she squealed, “stop it, stop it, stop it! Troy, you are the sex god!”
He gave her a momentary breather. “Now say, “‘Troy, you are the best I’ve ever had!’”
She blew out a breath and thumped him in the forehead. “Yo, stupid. You don’t have to tickle me to get me to say that.”
“Oh, yeah?” His chest swelled.
She nodded. “But don’t puff up like that and get arrogant, or I’ll take it back.”
“I’m the best she’s ever had,” he said to a lizard that darted out from behind a terra-cotta pot on the pool deck. The lizard blinked at him and swelled his little neck. “But that goes without saying. Because of course I am the best there is.” He took a bow.
“Puh-lease,” said Peggy, rolling her eyes and getting out of the pool. Water dripped off her body and she attempted to wring out her hair. The sun felt wonderful on her naked skin, though she knew she couldn’t stay out here long, or she’d become a lobster.
“It’s true,” said Troy, winking at her. He pushed off from the side of the pool and floated on his back, arms under his head.
“Your big head is getting swollen,” she told him, “but your other one doesn’t look anywhere near so impressive now…oh, yikes!”
He jumped out of the pool and came after her. Peggy ran, but her legs were no match for his longer ones and he caught her within seconds. She tried to twist away, but he caught her around the waist and threw her over his shoulder, caveman style.
“Hey! Put me down!”
He ignored her and walked over to his jeans, which lay in the grass. He toed them up, fished out his keys and smacked her sharply on the bottom when she pounded a fist into his kidneys.
“Ow!”
“You hit me first. Behave.” He unlocked the back door and made his way inside with her, locking it behind him. He deposited her on the kitchen table after sweeping off a couple of stray Cheerios with his arm. “Don’t think we’re done yet, darlin’.”
“We’re not? I don’t think I can take any more!”
“Then you’d better not make comments about things not being impressive.”
She looked between his legs. Oh, my. “What, do you have a helium pump or something? Where the hell did that come from?” His cock jutted at her, ready for business. “I guess you, uh, never used steroids.”
“I wouldn’t touch that stuff.”
She shrugged.
“Not with a ten-foot pole.”
She looked at his pole and smirked. “You men are such exaggerators. That’s not ten feet and you know it.”
“You’ve got a real mouth on you, Peggy-Sue,” he said, shaking his head. But he laughed. “Now, why’d you ask me about steroids? Was that another charming habit of your fiancé’s?”
She nodded.
“So he gave you a CZ and you didn’t get much action? What did you do, go to www.Losers.com and order one up special?”
Peggy choked. “Something like that.”
“Well, I hope they didn’t charge you too much. Now, you just lie back and let Uncle Troy and his assistant give you a little massage. It’s your turn today.”
Uncle Troy’s assistant turned out to be a plastic squeeze bottle of honey, shaped like a bear. He liked to sit in the microwave for short periods of time, during which he got all warm and gooey.
Then he liked to be squeezed so that honey ran all over her breasts, at which point Troy had to step in and clean up the mess. With his tongue and a lot of suction. Peggy went ahead and let Uncle Troy and his assistant have their way.
But she also insisted on returning the favor, taking his erection into her mouthful of warm honey and doing a little torturing of her own. It wasn’t her favorite thing in the world, but she loved the power she had over him as her lips slid up and down, and his eyes closed and his fists clenched on his knees. He groaned and murmured her name and op
ened his fists to bury his hands in her hair and stroke the back of her neck.
Finally he pulled her up so that she straddled him and sank down onto him. Her breasts rubbed against the rough hair of his chest, and he took them into his hands, squeezing gently, playing her nipples with his thumbs. The rhythm he set this time was slow, languorous and sweet. He kissed and caressed her, stroking gently with hands, tongue and cock until orgasm rolled over her unexpectedly and she relaxed into bliss.
He gave one last thrust, pulling her bottom down hard, trying to wrest every last iota of pleasure from their lovemaking, while she collapsed onto his shoulder and breathed in his scent. She could get far too used to this.
Peggy sat up at the alarming thought, twisting her hair into a wet knot on the top of her head. Troy’s eyes were closed and he was still embedded in her, his hands still warm on her skin.
What exactly did she think she was doing? What had happened to her year alone? And impulse control? And finding a mind-body-spirit balance? Just when she’d decided to devote herself to things like inner peace and aromatherapy and even a little meditation, along came a hot man and she forgot about herself and her personal goals to focus on him. Were women genetically programmed to do this? Screw up their lives in the hopes of a little…pollination?
I am not screwing up my life. Just because I’ve had a few sexual encounters with this man doesn’t mean I’ve signed over my life to him! And he’s an ex-football player, for God’s sake. Unmarried for a reason—he likes to play the field.
“What’s the matter, Peggy-Sue?” Troy asked the question lazily.
“It’s just Peggy.” Her tone was sharper than she’d intended for it to be.
“O-kay. What’s wrong then, Just Peggy? You starting to obsess again about the powder-puff team being eliminated?”
Actually, she was horrified that it had flitted out of her mind so completely. “Yes. We can’t let them do this!”
Troy sighed.
“Don’t just sit there, Barrington, like it’s a done deal. If enough of us go and raise a ruckus, we can change their minds.” She slid off his lap and paced across the kitchen.
“Peggy, stop for a minute. Please understand that I am not trying—not for a second—to minimize the importance of girls playing sports. Softball, soccer, volleyball, basketball—those are great for girls. But football? You and I both know that it’s different, even if you don’t want to admit that.”
Her heart stopped. “What do you mean, Troy?” she asked carefully.
He passed a hand over his face. “Look, I know you’re going to get pissed at me for saying this, but football is a contact sport. And maybe girls are bigger and more agile than boys at this age, ten to twelve, but within two or three years that’s no longer true. What’s the future for a female player then? Getting mowed down by a guy twice her body weight? I’m sorry, but no amount of skill or determination is going to change that.”
Peggy tried to control her instant rage, but it didn’t do much good. “I just slept with Cro-Magnon man! I don’t believe this!”
“Why does speaking the truth make me primitive? Why?”
“Because your truth is slanted and ridiculous and shortsighted! First of all, a quarterback or a kicker or a cornerback doesn’t have to have the same body weight as an offensive lineman, and you know it.”
Troy snorted. “Kicker is one thing. But the day you have a female quarterback on a mixed team is the day they ice-skate in hell.”
“Oh, really? Would that be why there are female fighter pilots, female boxers, a female secretary of state?”
“When was the last time you saw a secretary of state running for her life from someone that outweighs her by 150 pounds, bench-presses three times her weight and runs a 4.7 forty? And now, your pro quarterbacks—and hell, even division one quarterbacks—are at least six-two and weigh minimum 215 pounds. They have to—in order to withstand the beatings they take at the hands of these gigantic linemen and linebackers!
“For Christ’s sake, Peggy, I’m not arguing that women aren’t competent or lack commitment. I’m arguing that physically most women just don’t have the stature to take the step to the next level. And even if that wasn’t true, the male culture of football, as a sport, would never accept a female quarterback.”
“And that male culture is exactly what needs to change, damn it!” Peggy whirled and kicked one of his kitchen cabinets.
“Hey!”
“Rat-bastard male culture! No, it won’t ever change, will it? I should know.” She kicked the cabinet door again, succeeding in splintering it down the middle panel.
“Hey!” Troy was up and gripping her arm now. “Get ahold of yourself. I don’t care about the cabinets—I’ll be replacing them, anyway—but you’re out of control.”
“Let go of me.”
He took a step back and raised his hands, palm out.
She dropped her hands to her thighs and leaned on them, trying not to hyperventilate.
“Where is all this rage coming from, Peg? What did you mean, when you said that you should know?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t want to bare her soul to him, and she didn’t want to be physically naked in front of him any longer, either. She stalked to the kitchen door and wrenched it open, emerging into the hot sun to get her clothes.
“Peggy? Answer me.” He’d followed.
“I don’t have to answer to you.”
“No, you don’t. But you’re upset and I’m concerned about you and I wish you would talk to me.”
She pulled her skirt on, then her panties, bra and top—all with her back to him. She hunted for her shoes.
“Peggy, why did you leave your college team? It had nothing to do with your official statement, did it?” For some reason, dread grew inside him. This girl wasn’t a quitter. Whatever her reasons had been for leaving the team, they had to have been big.
Chapter 13
SHE SPUN AROUND to face Troy again. “How the hell do you know what my official statement was?”
“I own a computer. I know how to log on to the Internet. It’s pretty rare for a woman to be a starter on a college football team.”
“You went snooping.”
“I was interested in you. If you call pulling up a newspaper article snooping, then so be it. I pulled up your biography and stats on the Bryce University Web site and then clicked on a link to an article. So sue me.”
She jammed one foot into a shoe, then the other.
“The article said you left the team to focus on your studies. That’s not true, is it? Peggy…your anger today…” He hesitated. “Were you raped?”
All her blood seemed to rush to her head and pound at her temples. She wrapped her arms around her body as tightly as she could. She shook her head. Then she said slowly, “They tried.”
“Jesus,” he said. He took a step forward.
“Want to know the gory details?” Peg asked, her voice brittle. “Sure, why not? Three of them got me after practice one day, in a special locker room the university had had to construct just for me. You know, just another pain-in-the-ass aspect of having a girl on the team.”
Troy didn’t say anything, his gaze boring into hers.
“Anyway, I came out of the shower in a towel just as the door opened and there they were, all three of them. I almost choked on my own spit, I was so scared. I backed into the shower again and grabbed my razor—my Daisy shaver—like I was going to be able to do anything with that.” She laughed humorlessly, and Troy winced.
“They crowded into the shower with me and one of them pinned my wrist, razor and all, against the wall. The look on his face…I tried to kick another one in the nuts, but he just grabbed my ankle and wrenched it to the side while he tore off my towel.”
“Look, I don’t know if I want to hear this—”
“You asked to hear it.” Her voice to her own ears was low and deadly.
He shut up, his face half anguished and half furious.
“The one holding my wrist grabbed my breast in his other hand, and the one with my ankle grabbed my crotch. The one in the middle unzipped and pulled out his dick….” Her voice broke.
When she could speak again she continued. “Lucky for me, Coach banged on the door—there was a request for an interview. The three of them froze, and before they could do or say anything I screamed.” Peggy swallowed before continuing.
“One of the worst things about it was the delay before Coach opened the door. Like he’d rather have walked away. Didn’t want to see what was behind it….”
Troy cursed and tried to take her in his arms but she backed away from him.
“Coach came in and there I was on the shower floor sobbing, and the one guy was stuffing his dick back into his pants. And all he said to them was, ‘Get out.’ He turned his back and told me to get dressed and that he would wait for me outside and then we needed to talk.
“We walked to his office and he shut the door and asked me if I was okay. I nodded, and he started to explain how a girl on a football team, no matter how good, was like a woman on a ship—just plain bad luck.
“He said he felt about me like he felt about his own daughters, but he was advising me to leave the team and not to say anything. That I would create a huge scandal, jeopardize not only the team but my own reputation—since they’d say I was a whore who invited them to pull a train on me—and that I’d also endanger his job.
“And he pointed out that I wouldn’t be doing anything to advance women in athletics, either. He emphasized the fact that I hadn’t actually been raped, no matter what their intent. He patted my knee and told me I was a good kid.” Peggy took a breath.
“I was so grateful for his kindness to me that I didn’t think about being furious at his selfishness. I didn’t think about the fact that those creeps had probably done this before or might do it again.
“The only thing in my mind at the time—besides relief and fury—was so dumb. Embarrassment that they had seen me naked. Coach had seen me naked, and how could I ever look him in the face again? There was no way I could play again after that.”
Midnight Oil Page 12
