Penalty Play

by Lynda Aicher

  The rhythm built, a crescendo that lifted before mellowing back out. The song lyrics flowed through his mind in a jumble of out of order verses.

  He lifted his head, his breath easing through his lungs to fill his chest with something close to hope. He opened his eyes, the song humming in his throat to blend with Jacqui’s notes. She moved with the music, swaying to the beat she created in an intimate dance tied to the notes. Hair tucked back, absent smile, concentration tied to the keys. Her beauty glowed from the inside. From her courtesy and generosity in letting him deal with his pain in private.

  She could play that song without looking, he had no doubt. The classic was one of the first pianists mastered simply to say they could.

  “Sing us a song,” he wove in on the next refrain, the words flowing out on a raspy baritone hindered by years of disuse.

  Her head jerked up, a smile following as he continued to sing. Not loud or obnoxious, dramatic or hammed up. He just sang, the past flowing away on the simple rise and fall of each verse. The memories merged to bleed out with the pain and loss described in the tune. One that celebrated the simplicity of the moment.

  His pulse beat hard and strong as she wound up the song on the repeated scale that ended on four harmonized beats.

  He hadn’t realized he’d moved, yet he was at her side. Her hand was warm in his when she grasped it, tugged him down until he sat on the small bench.

  “It’s not big enough for both of us,” he said, moving to stand.

  A touch to his shoulder stayed him as she shifted around to straddle his lap. He sighed into her, arms circling her waist, head resting on the arch of her shoulder in a shuddered wave of perfection. She was soft and strong and the comfortable more he’d never dared to hope for.

  She held him without question. Stroked his back, kissed his temple, rubbed his shoulders until he lifted his head to study her, amazed and a little worried at once. Would she shun his display of vulnerability? Poke at the open wound or ignore it completely?

  Compassion filled her eyes, lifted her expression and flowed over her lips. Cheeks flushed that natural pink that fascinated him. She grazed her fingers up the side of his face, the tips coming away wet with tears he’d been unaware of.

  “Are you okay?” Her soft question held the concern that stared back at him.

  Again, so many interpretations. But right now, here, he could say, “Yes.”

  She kissed his forehead, the touch holding to sink into his heart. “Something hurt you.”

  His sarcastic snort was shallow with mirth. “Yes.” What else was there to say?

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It wasn’t you.”

  “Still…” She brushed his hair from his brow. “It sucks.”

  His chuckle was lighter, relieving. “True.”

  He studied her, drowning in the intensity of her eyes, the swirling emotions that pulled him in to claim her lips. She opened to him immediately, her tongue catching his to drag him in further. Completely. Heat flashed down his spine to ball in his gut, soothe through his groin and flood his shaft. Smooth and mellow like the kiss, like her.

  This was so much more.

  Her sweater was gone in a swipe and tug of hands, his right after. She drew him back into the kiss, her touch never stilling. His either. Her back was smooth, hair silk. The clasp of her bra was undone with a quick unhitch that gave him a clear path from nape to lower back, a long stretch of flesh he searched and held.

  There was no more pain or hurt. Nothing but Jacqui and the crazy rush that expanded his chest and blew his thoughts.

  Her skin tasted of honey and light when he trailed kisses down her jaw to her ear. Blindly, he slipped her bra from her arms to find her exquisite breasts, lift and cradle them in his palms. Her moan urged him on, nailed his desire and rode hard in his dick.

  She arched, offering her breasts and grinding over his erection. He dipped her further until her hair trailed on the ground and her nails dug into his shoulders, clinging to him. The stretch of her neck, thrust of her breasts, a graceful combination of sexuality and elegance.

  Her nipples were hard pebbles in his mouth, each bud a temptation he sucked and nipped just to hear her soft cries. Her hips rolled and rocked, sliding over his hard length with increasing pressure in a familiar dance that was completely new.

  “Touch me,” she rasped, voice thready.

  He fumbled until the snap gave on her jeans, his lips never leaving her skin. His shoulders stung where she gripped, the bite of pain an added sensation that sizzled over his muscles and fed his growing need.

  A hard shove had him straightening, lifting her with him. Her face was flushed, eyes wild like her hair that spilled around them. She devoured his mouth in a scorching plundering of tongue and breath. He was panting for air when she jerked back, forehead resting on his.

  “I want you,” she whispered, gusting breaths grazing his cheek.

  He swallowed, clutched her tighter. “I’m yours.” Already. He knew this with a clarity that sent an icy shot of fear down his spine. But fuck, he wasn’t running. “Whatever you want.” He’d repeat that until she understood. He’d give her everything if she asked.

  She slid off his lap, tongue gliding over her lower lip in a sultry temptation. Her eyes never left his as she slid her jeans and panties to the floor before slipping off her socks. His blood raged in his ears when she straightened, shoulders back, chin lifted like the warrior she was.

  No shying away or poses. Just her standing exposed and naked before him.

  His hand shook just a bit when he reached to brush her hair over her shoulder. In some ways, he was almost afraid to touch her. To break the fragile connection that wove around them. He skimmed his fingers over the curve of her throat, up the ridge of her collarbone then to the pink, puckered scar halfway down her chest.

  She flinched away. His eyes jerked up, hand freezing. Her breath came in short bursts that lifted her breasts. His throat ached to ask her about it. To kiss and heal whatever it was that caused her to pull back. But she’d left his demons alone. He owed her the same courtesy.

  He lowered his hand to his lap, met her gaze. Did she see his surrender? Understand his actions?

  Her eyes softened, shoulders dropping from their tense hold before she slid her fingers through his hair. Tiny shivers rushed down his scalp before sinking deeper. At her urging, he changed places with her, breath hitching as she undid his pants.

  The piano keys clunked a sour tune when she leaned back, legs spreading. “Taste me.”

  His brain shorted out for half a second then he dropped to his knees the instant her meaning registered. Screw the jab of pain that shot through his knee for landing too hard. He didn’t care. He barely logged the annoyance as he rushed to fill her demand.

  He spread her legs wider before he lifted them to rest her feet on his shoulders. She shifted, notes pinging into the room when her elbow hit the keys.

  Her eyes were dark, heavy with desire as he leaned in. He held her gaze until her scent drew his attention. Heady with a musky richness that screamed her desire and fired his. He inhaled, dipped and caught his first taste of her tangy sex. Hot and salty, it slid down his throat to yank a moan from his chest. He dipped for another lick, captured her clit and teased it with his tongue.

  Another loud clang of the piano keys jerked him out of his daze. He lurched up, scooping her into his arms as he went. “This isn’t comfortable.”

  Her eyes were wide, mouth gaping as she clenched her limbs around him. He’d almost reached the couch when her laughter bubbled near his ear. “It was kind of kinky.”

  “And dangerous.”

  The hot trail of her tongue teased up his neck to circle his ear. “What if I like danger?”

  Fuck. His groan was a tortured rushed of sprung need and barely contained passion. Her flavor was fading from his tongue, and he wanted more of it. Of her before he lost himself to his desire. “I’ll show you dangerous.”

  He set he
r on the couch, falling to his knees as he did. He jerked her feet back to his shoulder and her hips to the edge of the cushion then dove back into his feast.

  She was wet heat, clenching folds and tempting dips. He sought out every crevice of her, sucked, played and went back for more. Her gasps and whimpers fed him, each muscle spasm a sign of her own pleasure.

  His cheeks were wet with her juices, the musky scent flooding his senses with lust. He thrust his tongue into her to get more of her essence. Her cries went higher, her hands holding his head to her in a greedy demand he adhered to.

  He worked her clit with his thumb and moved lower, spreading her cheeks to tongue the puckered hole hidden there. She lunged forward, but he held her in place, pressing more.

  “Henrik?”

  The questioning edge to her voice only pushed him on. He glanced up, caught her passion-filled expression and worked the tip of his tongue through the tight ring. Just to do it. To drive her wild. Be dangerous.

  Her high keen said he’d succeeded.

  The thrill of giving her what she wanted filled his chest and pulsed in his aching dick. The heavier hint of her forbidden place danced on his tongue to drive him mad.

  She squirmed beneath him, yet her fingers still dug into his scalp, held him so tightly to her he gasped for each breath he took.

  Her panting breaths sang a song of fulfillment that raced with the adrenaline, pushing him higher. He edged back up to suck on her clit, flick it beneath his tired tongue and work two fingers into her. The warm heat suctioned around them, clamping and begging for more that matched her soft pleas.

  His heart drummed a hard beat that pulsed in his aching jaw with punishing need. He wanted to please her until she screamed with her release.

  His wet fingers plunged in and out of her, circled down to press on her other hole. One slipped in as his thumb filled her channel, dual penetration that yanked a groan and jerk from her.

  Slurping wetness, salty goodness, hard urgency crashed together to reach his goal. She tensed, curled forward on a silent scream before flopping back to arch off the cushions with a high-pitched cry.

  Victory sang through him, her muscles clamping hard on his digits as she rode her orgasm. He was right there with her, pushing her through each crest until she whimpered and gave a weak push on his head.

  He sat back on his heels, panting for air that raced into his lungs and fed the fire in his blood. She was a picture of sated bliss. Eyes closed, hair messed, lips parted to accommodate her heaving breaths. Her legs were still spread, offering him a view of her wet folds and swollen clit.

  Her scent surrounded him, filled him and pushed at the wild urgency he’d been restraining. He had to have her. Be in her. Feel her surrounding him.

  He was on his feet in the next instant, pants tumbling to his ankles to be shed with the rest of his clothes. Her eyes flickered open to watch him, a sultry smile curling her lips when he stood naked, his erection jutting hard and insistent before him.

  Damn. He could almost come just from her look.

  He jerked a hand over his mouth and cheeks to wipe away the remaining wetness then gripped his dick in a hard stroke that tore a hungry moan from his dry throat. Her hum of approval reached him through the thundering beat of his heart. She shifted up, the leather rubbing beneath her limbs as she rose to her knees, then turned around. His heart lurched then almost pounded out of his chest when she rested her forearms on the back of the couch, pert ass presented to him.

  His legs trembled and he locked his knees to keep his footing. She looked over her shoulder, hair tumbling down her back in tempting waves of silk, to smile at him beneath heavy lids.

  “Fuck me, Henrik.” The words, like her voice, were dirty and sultry. Erotic and crude.

  His dick jumped and begged to oblige. His muscles tensed, more than ready to fulfill her demand. Yes screamed through his mind, yet his mouth said, “No.”

  Her frown was instantaneous. Shoulders hunching as her back lowered.

  He grabbed her hips, stopping her. “No.” The denial was firm. Strong with his belief and need for her to understand.

  He kept one hand on her hip and reached for the end table drawer with the other. An almost fanatic necessity to ensure that no woman ever claimed an unplanned child as his had driven him to stash condoms in every room of his house. Sometimes in multiple places. Spontaneity wouldn’t be his downfall. It may be the sole piece of advice from his father that’d been worth anything.

  Her spine relaxed when he rolled the protection on, his other hand working up her back in a soothing stroke. “I won’t fuck you,” he said, maintaining eye contact as he lined himself up. Her heat seared the tip of his dick, penetrating the thin latex with a brutal ease. He hissed, shuddered but resisted the overwhelming need to sink into the sweet heaven that waited.

  Her eyelids lowered, lips parting in a low sigh. Yeah, he wasn’t going to fuck her.

  “I’ll pleasure you,” he said, then gave in to his desire and plunged into her on a long roll of his hips. Fucking… The heat engulfed him, her walls stroking and sucking him in until he bottomed out.

  Her moan was a breathy release that reached him through his haze of pounding need.

  He eased out, eyes still trained on hers. “I’ll make you come.” He sank home, pulled out, swiveled his hips so his sensitive head rubbed over her entrance. Her eyes fluttered, shoulders sinking as she dropped her chest to the back of the couch. “I’ll fill you until you’re too weak to stand.” The bald truth tore a grunt from his chest when he thrust into her, hard with his want.

  The silky heat blazed down his dick to tighten his balls and spread through his groin. He wasn’t going to last, was already perched on the edge of his orgasm.

  She gasped, her forehead resting on her folded arms, back dipping to raise her ass higher. God, she was grace and beauty and wild abandon wrapped into an irresistible package.

  He bent forward, wrapped his arms around her waist, working his erection in and out in slow strokes. Anything to prolong the moment. To keep her with him.

  Her hair tickled his nose, and he nudged it out of his way to press kisses over her shoulder and up her neck. He found her breasts, cupped one in his hand as he held her hips firmly to his with the other.

  “I’ll cherish you,” he said into her ear, swallowing a moan. Another thrust, a hard snap of his hips. Her sob was throaty and open, a vulnerable choke that wrapped him in tighter.

  He squeezed his eyes closed, fought for breath. For control.

  She was shuddering beneath him, rocking to meet him with every increasing glide that filled her and buried him. He reared back, eyes locked on where they joined. Each slide of his dick into her a promise he made to her. Them. Whatever it was that told him this was more. The more he’d searched for.

  Need fired up to snap his will and drive him hard. He surrendered to the crazy passion that clenched his balls and hardened his dick even more. His grunt and powerful thrust was met with a matching sound and shove back.

  She wasn’t giving in, not completely, but she wasn’t fighting him either. They were totally in sync as they raced for the blinding end that rushed closer, blew over his skin to electrify his nerve endings.

  Sweat clung to his back, slicked his palms. His thighs and calves burned with a strain he welcomed. He was close, teetering on the edge where he wanted to fall yet dreaded it ending.

  Her soft whimpers filled the room around his deeper groans. She jerked, writhed, cried out. He sped up, firing into her clenching heat at a pace that was now fed by nature.

  He slid his palm down, found her hard, swollen clit and rubbed, matched his driving pace and gritted his teeth to hold himself back.

  Her muscles tensed and clamped around him before her cry reached his ears. The firm, pulsing grip of her channel on his impossibly hard dick was his signal to let go. Follow. Dive into the waiting abyss and pray she was there for him.

  His roar broke from his chest, muscles contracting int
o tight knots as the crest broke, poured from him to enflame his blood and funnel into a single outlet. He clenched her hips, pounded into her before grinding to a gasping end.

  The world spun, his skin buzzed with energy and he dropped forward, searching for air to feed his lungs. His legs started to shake, and sweat weaved a path from his temple to drop on Jacqui’s back.

  Her soft shudder vibrated through his hands, down his legs. Only then did he realized he still gripped her hips, his fingers starting to ache.

  Shit. He lifted, chest heaving, and loosened his hold. Deep red marks outlined where each finger had been, and guilt punched him fast. They’d probably turn into bruises on her pale skin. Still, another part of him filled with pride and a protective rush at the thought.

  He laid his hand over the red marks, fitting his fingers into the outline. One breath, two, then he eased out of her. She dropped to the couch, and he quickly swiped a tissue from the box on the end table and cleaned up.

  She’d curled into herself, spine pressed against the back of the couch, eyes closed. He scooped her up with ease and carried her to his bed.

  The sun had faded behind a cloud, and his room was bathed in the soft gray light that remained. He jerked the covers down with one arm and crawled into bed with her still wrapped in his arms. She stretched out, legs twining with his as she nestled into his side, head on his chest.

  The silence eased around him, them, and for once he welcomed the peace it brought. He clutched her to him, kissed the top of her head, sex and arousal deepening her flowery scent.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. Inadequate and lacking the depth he wanted. He could only hope she understood.

  She mumbled something too faint for him to catch, inhaled and sagged into him, muscles going slack.

  He kissed her head again, nuzzled her soft hair and smiled. Peace was a beautiful thing, and he treasured it as he let himself drift into a light sleep.