Scoring with the Wrong Twin (WAGS)

by Naima Simone

  “Tell me what you like,” she murmured, her breath a soft, heated caress over his taut skin. Another ripple of lust worked its way through his body. Both at the sensual command and the almost touch of her mouth.

  “Harder,” he directed. “Squeeze me harder. You won’t hurt me.”

  She immediately complied, her fist clamping tighter, the slide down his flesh rougher. His balls drew up against him, electrical currents building, building…

  Then she sucked him.

  “Fuck,” he hissed. He launched up from the seat, sitting straight up as a dark snarl reverberated in his chest. Have to see. Need to see.

  The words chanted in his head like a carnal mantra as he took in her lush, full lips parted around his cock, taking him inside, welcoming him into the warm, wet haven that was both heaven and hell.

  “Jesus Christ, that’s pretty,” he rasped, one hand buried in the thick, blue-tipped brown strands, and the other clutching the handlebar above him. He couldn’t remove his gaze from her. Her lashes fluttered down, shielding her eyes from him, but not the expression of hunger that suffused her face. The need she didn’t try to hide. Lust barreled through him, hardening his flesh even more.

  She explored him. Leisurely. Slowly. Painfully. He inhaled deep, wielding control over his body, forcing it to remain still, letting her take him how she wanted. But damn… He closed his eyes, only to open them seconds later at the flutter of her tongue directly beneath his crown. Fire blazed down his spine, and it snapped the tattered, steadily unraveling ropes that had been holding him down.

  “Suck it, baby. Take me deeper,” he growled, his hold on her head tensing, not leaving any room for argument. Fortunately, she didn’t seem inclined to disagree, instead parting her lips wider and allowing him to push more of himself inside. “That’s it,” he praised, careful not to rush her. Letting her become accustomed to his length.

  But she didn’t want his tenderness. Her tongue swirled around him, her mouth wrapping as tight as the fist still closed around the thickest, widest part of him. Raising higher on her knees, she took him down, down, until the head of his cock bumped the back of her throat. As she withdrew, her moan vibrated along his erection, adding another sensory caress. She didn’t hold back; her head bobbed up and down, letting him slide into the narrow opening of her throat. He choked back a shout, tugging her head up, her mouth off him.

  She stared up at him, eyes glazed, features soft with arousal, lips damp from the best blow job of his existence.

  “Get up here,” he snarled.

  “Not yet,” she objected, her hand sliding up and down his dick. “Not until you come.”

  “I will,” he said, cupping her under the shoulders and dragging her back onto his lap. “Just not here.” He crashed his mouth to hers, uncaring that he’d just been there. On the contrary, he fucking thrilled in it. “Here.” He palmed her between the legs, and her thighs closed around his hand. “Now get those pants off.”

  This time she didn’t argue with him. She lifted her hips and stripped off her pants while he removed a condom from his back pocket and pushed his jeans further down. He bracketed her waist, holding her as she shifted and resumed her perch on top of him. Briefly closing his eyes as her bare skin touched his, he sucked in a breath, then hurried to sheath himself.

  “Take off your shirt.” Watching those gorgeous breasts with their pierced nipples bounce as she rode him would most assuredly shove him closer to the edge of orgasm, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

  Again, she obeyed without complaint, ridding herself of the tank top and bra in seconds.

  “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, brushing his fingertips over the ring in her eyebrow, the piercing in the siren’s call of her mouth, the hoops in her nipples. A ravenous need gripped him in its greedy claws, but he still traced a path down to her belly and circled the twinkling jewel in her navel. He raised his arms and anchored himself with the headrest once more. “Ride me.”

  She trembled, and he absorbed the ripple of it. Kneeling above him, she positioned his cock beneath her and slowly, so damn slowly, sank down on him. An almost animalistic wail escaped her, and her hands flattened on his abdomen. A glance down his torso and to the place where they were connected revealed she’d only taken half his length inside her. He waited, giving her time to adjust to a position that would make him seem bigger, thicker. But it cost him. Every quiver of her feminine muscles, every contraction of her slick, smooth walls around him shaved away at his control. Heightened the intensity of the electrical currents sizzling from the base of his neck, down his spine, and to his balls. Even the soles of his feet tingled with awareness of mind-melting pleasure just on the horizon.

  “Touch yourself,” he instructed, and her gaze rose to meet his. Still trembling like a leaf caught in a fierce wind, she reached between them and hesitantly swept a finger over the clit that peeked out from between her folds. Her cry echoed in the car, her body jerking. Her fingertips—two this time—repeated the caress, and she accepted more of him. Another stroke of those elegant fingers, and over half his cock disappeared inside her. “Keep playing with yourself, baby,” he encouraged, and because he couldn’t not touch her any longer, he clasped a taut nipple between his finger and thumb. And tugged.

  With another of those raw screams, she took all of him. As if those last few inches were a catalyst, she exploded. On a curse, he grabbed her hips, holding her and pumping into her, giving her every bit of the orgasm that seized her. Her sex milked him, drawing on him, pulling him deeper. Her nails bit into him, adding a hint of pain to the pleasure tearing through him.

  One stroke. Another. And another. And fuck, there. It ripped him apart, put him back together again, only to do it again. He surged between her thighs like a wild animal, pouring into the condom, and for once, in a brief flash of sanity—or insanity—wished the barrier was gone. That it was just her and him, with nothing separating them.

  But then, he wasn’t thinking at all.

  Just a prisoner of the lust and ecstasy that chained him to her. And he willingly let himself be enslaved.

  Even if for a little while.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sophia glanced at the clock on her laptop. 4:25. Only thirty-five more minutes to go, and her day would be over. Thirty-five more minutes, and she would head over to the high school to meet Zephirin.

  At just the mention of his name, she smiled. A small smile, but one nonetheless. Even though a part of her acknowledged that mooning over a man who believed you were someone else defined the very height of insanity. But…

  After sex in his truck a couple of nights ago, her stupid, stubborn, crystal-castles-in-the-sky heart had tried to appropriate her common sense. Insisting maybe their time together didn’t need to end when Giovanna returned home. That, yes, he might believe she was someone else, but he did seem to actually like and accept her—her quirks, her love of eighties movies, her humor, her piercings and ink. He listened to her, hadn’t brushed off her idea about the app. And from the way he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of her and other body parts from inside her, he found her attractive. Maybe, just maybe, he would understand why she’d pretended to be Giovanna all this time.

  “That’s my one rule, Sophia. Honesty, no lies. Ever.”

  That had been his rule—his only rule when they’d renegotiated the terms of their arrangement. And the truth besides her being a liar? She wasn’t Giovanna. Could never be, that insidious voice in her head whispered. The women he usually dated were so far out of Sophia’s league, she couldn’t even buy tickets to get in the game. Maybe her quirks were acceptable because of what he believed her to be—a model, sophisticated, worldly—and not who.

  Jesus. She was giving herself a headache with the whos, whats, whens, whodidits, and whys.

  One thing she knew for certain. Today was Thursday, and Giovanna returned home on Sunday. She had three more days with him. And no way in hell was she squandering t
hem. This time with him would have to last her for a lifetime.

  The ringing of her desk phone interrupted her dismal thoughts.

  “Thank God,” she muttered, picking up the receiver.

  “Sophia, I need to see you in my office, please.” Brian.

  She’d thanked God a little too soon.

  Sighing, she trekked down the hall as if her last rites and meal awaited her. Once she stood outside her supervisor’s door, she inhaled a deep breath, asked God to increase her patience—and keep the temptation of sharpened pencils away from her—and knocked. After catching his “Come in,” she entered.

  As always, he sat behind his desk, not bothering to rise when she entered. That shouldn’t have irked her, but it did. It probably wouldn’t even have bothered her if she hadn’t become used to Zephirin rising whenever she left a table or returned to it. Maybe it was a Southern thing, but her boss could learn some manners from her football player.

  The football player. The. Her football player? Where the hell had that come from?

  “Have a seat, Sophia.” Brian didn’t remove his attention from his computer, clicking on his mouse and typing as she lowered to the chair in front of his desk. After a couple of minutes, he seemed to remember that he had invited her to his office and switched his regard to her. “I finished reviewing your proposal. Thank you for submitting it so quickly.”

  “You’re welcome.” Nerves erupted in her stomach like a flock of mad, hungry geese. She’d been toying with the idea of a virtual dressing room for a little while, and his announcement of a new app had seemed like fate. Her heart sped up in her chest, ready to hear his verdict.

  “I was waiting on a couple more proposals, but I’ve already run this by my supervisor, and yours is the forerunner. This is unofficial, you understand, but the virtual dressing room is going to be chosen as FamFit’s new app for development.”

  Happiness and triumph soared through her, and she clutched the arms of the chair to avoid doing a fist pump in the air. The idea had been a little off the beaten path since the company mainly focused on fitness apps. But a program where customers could enter their measurements and wait while a personal shopper chose exercise and sportswear for them to “try on” from FamFit’s webstore had seemed fun. And, for customers like her, it eased the pain of shopping for clothes. She couldn’t prevent a grin from widening her lips. “Really?” she asked.

  He nodded. “It was excellent work.”

  “Thank you, Brian,” she said, her joy multiplying at the seemingly genuine praise. Maybe she’d misjudged him. “And I won’t disappoint you as project manager.”

  “About that…” He leaned forward, propping his clasped hands on top of the desk. “Like I said, your concept is excellent. But I just don’t think you’re ready for a position like project manager yet. While you’ve been here a few years, we need someone with more experience heading this.”

  Stunned, she stared at him. Heat tinged with disappointment and anger streamed up her chest and throat, pouring into her face. He’d done it to her again. Snatched the rug out from under her and left her sprawled like a trusting idiot.

  “When we spoke last week, you assured me that if my app was chosen, I would be project manager,” she said past numb lips.

  “I said it could mean project manager for you. Could.” He templed his fingers under his chin, contemplating her over the rims of his black glasses. “I’m doing you a favor, Sophia. The position would be time-consuming, requiring longer hours and much more responsibility. You’re young, you have a social life, and this would most likely be a burden. I’ve decided Trevor would be a better fit to head the project. But you can assist him since it was your idea. I’m depending on you for that.”

  “Trevor is two years older than me and takes off at least two Mondays every month because he’s hungover from the weekend,” she bit out. Anger. Now that the shock had worn off, anger rushed in like a flood, surging into every part of her, filling her like a dry water bed. She soaked up the rage, frustration, and helplessness like that cracked ground.

  This wasn’t about experience; this had everything to do with her being a woman and refusing to be one of his sycophants. Out of the three years she’d been working for him, not one woman—including the other one in their department with ten years on the job—had been appointed project manager.

  And now, after promising her the job in exchange for her proposal, he’d screwed her. Again.

  I quit. The shout quivered on her tongue, begging to be voiced. But reason—and fear—trapped them inside. Yes, she could walk out. And go where? Do what? People who usually walked off a job found it difficult to acquire another position without references. And she didn’t need a magic eight ball to reveal that a positive review wouldn’t be forthcoming from Brian if she left.

  She was as trapped as those words.

  And he knew it.

  Behind his glasses, he didn’t bother hiding the satisfaction or impatience in his gaze. Didn’t bother to convince her that she had it all wrong about Trevor. He held a royal flush, and she held a losing, pathetic hand.

  “My decision has been made. We’ll start Monday. Thank you, Sophia.” With that, he turned back to his computer, dismissing her. As unimportant. Inconsequential.

  And damn herself to hell for allowing him to make her feel that way.

  …

  Zephirin frowned as Sophia’s generic voicemail greeting instructed him to leave a message at the beep…for the fourth time. Unlike the previous three times, he decided to obey.

  “Hey, this is Zephirin. Give me a call when you get this. I’m wrapping up here at the camp. If you’re running late, we can meet at my place instead of here. Just let me know.”

  Still frowning, he ended the message, staring down at the phone. Usually, she answered his calls or returned them within minutes. But not today.

  Something was wrong. Possibly the same “something” that had been bothering her Tuesday night. The something that had caused the almost desperate glimmer in her eyes. Had incited that crazy but hot sex in his car. And she still hadn’t shared the reason.

  And yet, in spite of her reticence, lying in his truck, holding her curved, soft body to his, a peace had stolen over him. A deep satisfaction. Sophia was so damn different from most of the women he’d met since entering the league. Hell, since entering college. Those of his acquaintance, including his ex-girlfriend, saw football players as a ticket or free ride to a wealthy lifestyle. Or a jump off to their own career aspirations.

  But Sophia, with her often blunt honesty, sensitivity, and vulnerability, cast all those women in a dark shadow. She was…refreshing. A word he wouldn’t have believed he could call anyone in his often jaded world.

  Doubt crept into his head, the stealthy intruder issuing warnings. And he couldn’t eject them.

  He knew better than to paint every woman with the same Shalene-tinted brush—he’d been raised by a selfless, sacrificing, good woman. She’d set an example for him. So he understood that he couldn’t blame every female for his ex’s mistakes. But Shalene was the yardstick by which he measured the rest. She’d taught him what to be aware of. Missed phone calls were just that—missed phone calls. But the last time he’d trusted in a woman, she’d cleverly hidden her true colors. And though he and Sophia had agreed that their…arrangement was temporary, she very well could play him for a fool.

  God. He stuffed his cell in the pocket of his shorts and strode back toward the parking lot where the last bus carrying the kids had left twenty minutes earlier. Sophia should’ve been at the high school a half hour ago, at five-thirty as they’d discussed. He’d wait another fifteen minutes before leaving.

  Shit.

  He shoved the bar on the heavy door and stepped out into the evening air and, except for a few remaining vehicles, empty parking lot. Why did it feel like his time with her was ticking away? Starting Monday, he would be attending a mandatory three-day mini-camp that would start early in the morning and last unt
il about seven in the evening, which meant their time together would be limited. And maybe that was for the best. She was everything he didn’t—shouldn’t—want in a long-term partner. His dream was of a woman outside of this business. A woman who wouldn’t see him as either competition or a meal ticket, an opportunity. Plus, he’d promised himself he’d avoid getting wrapped up in a woman while he still held on to his professional career. Because as he’d seen with Shalene, when things went south with a relationship, his ability to focus on the game did, too.

  And yet, he couldn’t deny that the part of him that was obviously a glutton for punishment had started considering that maybe, just maybe, Sophia was different. That it didn’t have to be that way with her…

  “Problem?” Shalene appeared next to him, a bag slung over her shoulder, car keys dangling from her fingers. Though she’d attended every day of the camp including today, she still appeared as fresh as she had that morning. Not a strand escaped her high ponytail; the makeup on her smooth cocoa skin was flawless. The purple romper that revealed the long length of her slender legs remained unwrinkled. His ex-girlfriend was as beautiful as she’d been when she’d reentered his life five years ago. And when he’d seen her on the other side of a conference table in his lawyer’s office a year and a half ago.

  Any man could be forgiven for losing his head over her, for being blind to the things going on.

  Any man but him.

  “No.” He surveyed the lot and the direction of the entrance where Sophia’s car would have to travel. No sign of her. The worry wiggling in his gut didn’t ease. Attempting to push it aside for the moment, he glanced down at Shalene. “Thank you for all of your help this week. It wouldn’t have gone nearly as smoothly without you.”

  “Of course,” she said. “You know this is my passion. It’ll never bring Ryan back but…” She trailed off at the mention of her brother’s name, then shook her head. “But I love working with the foundation, the boys…and you,” she murmured. Shoulders straightening, she tilted her chin up. “I’ve never said it before, but thank you for letting me continue to work here. After everything that happened…” Again she shook her head. “You would’ve had every right to ban me from having anything to do with the foundation and fire me. Thank you for giving me another chance.”