So hallelujah for the Saturday night hookup!
She pushed open the door to the massage room and found Rick, leaning against the table, his arms folded across his sexy chest. For a moment, her heart did a little flip flop. He looked so amazing, the open, friendly grin, the wisdom and kindness in those moss-green eyes, the easy-going, yet powerful stance. He took her breath away. “You found it.”
“So did you.”
He made a show of looking around the room. “So is this where we... test our flexibility?”
“And impact.” She waggled her eyebrows.
He chuckled. “I’ll show you the kinds of things I may need help with.” He reached for her waist and pulled her toward the massage table, spinning her around until she faced it. “See, I’ve fantasizing about doing something like this.” He pushed her torso down onto the massage table and hooked his thumbs under the waistband of her yoga pants.
She bit her lip as he dragged them slowly down. She wore them sans panties, so the air hit her bare flesh. The quiver in her thighs had nothing to do with cold, though. Her breath quickened. The pants came all the way off.
Slap.
She gasped at the shock of sensation and sound. Rick had smacked her ass and the crack echoed in the small room.
He immediately rubbed the place he’d slapped, turning the sting into something warm and wonderful. Abruptly, he lifted his hand and brought it down again in exactly the same spot.
“Ow.” This time she complained, but his large hand was already rubbing, already soothing. Her clit throbbed, pussy ached for him to touch it, but he just circled the globes of her ass, teasing her, turning her into a trembling mass of desire.
One of his hands reached up to grip her swollen breast.
She moaned.
He pressed his clothed cock against her ass and used both hands to give the twins some attention, cupping and kneading them as he nibbled her neck. With a quick tug, he pulled her yoga top down, causing her breasts to spring free, the stretchy fabric underneath boosting them up into his hands. He pinched both nipples between his fingers and squeezed.
She jerked—the sensation just crossing the line into pain, but he immediately released them and kissed her neck. She dropped her head back against his muscular chest. Her nipples zinged and throbbed, turning her entire body molten. Heat pooled between her legs and a drip of arousal leaked out.
She grasped one of his large hands and dragged it down between her legs.
He clapped the other hand down on her ass. “Ah ah. I’m leading tonight.”
A wanton sound escaped her lips. She loved this—the way they’d taken turns at control. Loved that he not only demanded her surrender but deserved it, as he’d given her the same trust and satisfaction.
She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remain passive and let him go at his own pace, even though her entire body screamed for release.
He delivered another spank and rubbed away the sting. He’d had practice at this, she could tell. He walked the line perfectly between pleasure and pain, teasing her with the sensations until they blended into one overwhelming, overriding need.
At last, at last, he slid two fingers between her legs.
Her knees nearly buckled from the shock of sensation against her sensitive clit. One leg trembled. A purring noise came from her throat. Or was it a growl? She wanted him inside her so badly, but he continued to tease, lightly brushing his fingers through her wetness, circling her clit, then spanking her ass again.
“Rick…” she moaned, not even sure what she was trying to say or ask.
“Yes, baby?” His fingers penetrated her, delving deep into her slick channel.
She squeezed them with her muscles, desperate for completion.
“What are you doing?” Her voice sounded thick.
He chuckled, a deep rumbling in his chest that seemed to reverberate straight into her pussy. “I am torturing you. Is it working?” He pushed her long hair over to one side and bit her shoulder.
“Oh God,” she mumbled. “You need to get on with it. I’m dying here.”
“If I didn’t have you melting for it, I wouldn’t be doing my job, would I?” he rumbled.
“I thought—” she gasped as he pumped his fingers inside her
“Yes?”
“I thought I was teaching this class... oh God. Please? More?”
“Were you? I guess I got bossy. You want my cock, beautiful?”
“Hell, yeah,” she grunted, gripping the opposite edge of the table so tight her knuckles went white.
A foil wrapper crackled, then Rick rubbed the head of his cock against her entrance.
She pushed eagerly back at it.
It was his turn to groan as he slid inside. “So good.”
She tightened her muscles around his cock.
“Mmm. Do that again. Is this part of your personal training?”
She rolled her forehead around on the massage table. “For special clients,” she gasped.
He shoved in hard and immediately pulled almost all the way out.
“Ahhhh-ah.” She whimpered at the near loss of him. She needed more. Faster. Harder. “Show me what you’ve got, big man.”
He laughed and gripped her hips. “You think you’re ready for what I’ve got?”
“I’m so ready…oh!”
He slammed in hard again, repeating the trick of nearly pulling out.
“I can’t believe you’re such a tease.”
He began to thrust at a more steady rhythm.
“I’m—going—to—make you—pay—for this,” she threatened between each delicious instroke.
He pulled all the way out. “Oh yeah?”
“No, no, no, no, no. Just kidding. Please don’t stop,” she panted.
He laughed again, slapped her ass and slid into her.
“Mmm.”
“Is that what you wanted, beautiful?”
“Yes, please.” She might have been purring again.
He clapped one large hand over her shoulder to hold her in place as he drilled into her.
Her back bowed, she arched up to meet his thrusts, which forced her breath out of her.
Her clit tingled. “Please, now.”
“You want to come?”
“Yeah. Yes, please. Come on.”
He slammed into her, taking her roughly, harder than she’d ever had it. Her thighs bumped against the table so hard she feared she’d have bruises, but she didn’t care. She needed him, craved the punishing force behind each stroke.
At last, when she was just on the verge of cresting without him, he buried himself deep inside her with a shout.
Her muscles spasmed around his thick cock, squeezing him for everything she was worth, the contractions going on and on until they left her rung out like a towel. She let out a long, deliberate exhale and collapsed on the table, boneless. Unable to move.
Rick still shuddered behind her, his muscled thighs flexing and jerking with his cock. When he finished, he bent over her, wrapping one arm around her waist and kissing her neck. “Are you okay?” he murmured.
“Yes,” she breathed. “I’m wonderful.”
“You certainly are.”
He eased out and moved away from her, disposing of the condom. “Who takes out this trash?”
“Hmm?” It took her brain a moment to process the question. She heard the rustle of a plastic bag. “I’m just going to tie this bag up. We don’t need anyone finding the evidence of our private lesson.”
She eased off the massage table, smiling.
Rick took care of her. He took care of things.
“Where are you going?” He scooped her into his arms.
She whooped in surprise, throwing her arms around his neck. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, smiling down at her. He was the only man who had ever made her feel petite in comparison to him. She loved it.
He carried her out of the room and her head knocked the Christmas lights strung around the door. She shrieked a
nd giggled. “Where are you taking me?”
“Back to the place we started these games.” He grinned. “The men’s showers.”
* * *
Rick eased Brandy to her feet under a spray of warm water.
She kept her arms looped around his neck, beaming up at him with that breathtaking smile. He pushed the soap dispenser and rubbed his hands together before smoothing them over her body. He wanted to take it slow this time. To explore every perfect inch of her body. He stroked down her nape and across the backs of her lean, muscular shoulders.
Running his hands down her arms, he squeezed her biceps. “I’ll bet some men are intimidated by these guns.”
She gave a husky laugh. “Not you.”
“No, not me,” he murmured, gliding his palms up her sides, from her hips to her breasts, then down the front of her six-pack abs. “You’re perfect.”
She tried to reach for a handful of her own soap, but he pinned her wrist to the tile wall and traced a finger down the inside of her arm. “My turn, remember?”
“Still?” She gave him pouty lips that stiffened his cock.
With a fresh lather of soap on his palms, he filled his hands with her breasts, stroking light circles around them.
She tipped her face up for a kiss.
He obliged, claiming her mouth with the authority of a man who knows what he wants.
Yes, it was true. He wanted Brandy Love. All of her—not just naked time in the shower. He wanted Sam and Claire. He wanted to meet her friends and her parents. He wanted to be her man. He felt almost light-headed.
He was in too deep. Way too deep.
He didn’t know how he would back out now.
Chapter Ten
Brandy’s phone rang on the way to her parents’ house. A cold, steady drizzle of rain hit the windshield, and the sky was a dull winter grey. Hitting the “answer” button for hands free talking, she said, “Hey you,” to Angelina.
“Hi, have you picked up today’s Houston Magazine?” Angelina asked.
“Not yet, why? Did you write the story about Rick?”
“I sure did. I found some great photos of him in the archives. Solo photos—not the charity event ones with the latest tramp hanging on his arm.”
She tried to ignore the rush of jealousy that statement caused. Of course Rick always had a pretty girl on his arm. She’d considered him a bit of a man-whore. But reconciling that with the guy she knew—the coach with a heart of gold—and more, the thoughtful man who had arranged to get her car fixed and entertained her kid in a hospital waiting room… Well, she wanted to think she meant more to him than those pretty girls. But that was foolish. That wasn’t what they were doing.
“That sounds great. I can’t wait to see it.”
“Yeah, my editor liked it so much, they put him on the cover!”
“Way to go! That’s exciting.” She wasn’t mustering enough enthusiasm, still stuck on the tramps from the old archive photos. Or stuck on Rick. And where they were going with this relationship. She was on the verge of getting hurt because she was falling for this guy—ass over tea kettle. And even if she didn’t have her own hang-ups about being in a relationship—which she still did, he didn’t date single moms.
The pain in her chest made her catch her breath.
“Well, tell me what you think when you see it. And tell me what he says. I’m sure he’ll be modest, but I hope he likes it.”
“I will definitely fill you in. I’ll call you as soon as I read it.”
“Okay, have a good night.”
She thanked her and disconnected the phone.
Crap. Heartache was not supposed to be on her docket right now. That was the whole point of not dating. Well, that and not having time, although it seemed she’d already dismissed that. She and Rick had somehow found time already, hadn’t they?
She pulled into her parents’ driveway and climbed out, grabbing the bag of food from Boston Market she’d picked up for them. She tried to drop food off for them at least twice a week, because her mom didn’t have time to cook with all the care she gave her dad.
Her mom met her at the door. “He had a bad day,” she said in an undertone, holding the screen door open. “Headache. And his arthritis is acting up with this rain. He’s been groaning a lot and he didn’t want to move from the chair.”
She kissed her mom and stepped in, shaking off her soft brown leather jacket. Not the best thing to wear on a rainy day.
She brought the food to the kitchen and greeted her dad in the living room. “Hi Daddy.”
He looked like he’d been nodding off in his chair. His eyebrows raised with surprise. “Hello.” He took time enunciating the word. Weariness showed in the bags under his eyes and the deepened lines on his face.
Her heart twisted. She hated watching him decline like this. Her mom came in and perched on the arm of his chair, holding his hand.
He smiled and looked up at his wife. For a man who couldn’t say much, he expressed himself perfectly. Brandy saw so much love there, pouring out of him. Yes, her parents loved each other dearly. She’d been looking at it as a sort of weakness, but how could she miss how incredibly sweet their partnership was?
Once more, the pang tightened her chest.
She wanted what they had. She did want a life partner, a spouse. Someone who would gaze at her with all the love in his eyes. As if she was the sun itself.
Her eyes smarted with tears. Would she ever have this? With someone?
But no, not “someone.” Rick.
And she already knew the answer.
It was no.
* * *
Phil called at 7:00 a.m. Rick was just back from his run and heading for the shower. He shouldn’t have picked it up. Nothing good comes of answering the phone at 7:00 a.m. He should have known that.
“Hey Phil.”
“Did you see the Chronicle?”
He groaned. “What is it this time?”
“The King of Douchebaggery. Stan Brown turned you into some... some... I can’t even say.” Phil was stuttering. This wasn’t good.
“Ugh. You shouldn’t read that crap. Don’t even tell me.”
“No, really. You have to go and read it. It’s bad. It’s like he’s somehow made the rehab you’re doing with Donnie into something illegal. It’s like he’s almost insinuating sexual abuse or something. I’m serious—it’s bad. Something needs to be done about this guy.”
“I’m not reading it.” The last thing he needed was to get sucked into drama with the press. He wouldn’t be able to change whatever it was Stan Brown had written in his column. If the a columnist hated him and wanted to make him look bad, there wasn’t much he could do about it, and getting himself all wound up wouldn’t help.
“No really. This one you need to read. It requires a rebuttal or something.”
“I’ll see you at the school.” It was time to end this conversation.
“I mean it, Rick. Go get the paper.”
He hung up on Phil and shook his head, dropping the phone and heading into the shower. Great. A maelstrom of press. Just what he needed right now. First the spread in Houston Magazine, making him out to be a hero and now this. Of course the douchebag Stan would have to react to the positive press he’d received in Houston Magazine and turn it into something sordid. Right before their playoff game with his kid’s team. What an ass.
Rick hadn’t liked the Houston Magazine article. It wasn’t bad—it was meant to be good. It was all about how great a guy he was and his special training work with Donnie. But he didn’t need his ego stroked that way and what bothered him was that the source had obviously been Brandy. Had it just been to get a mention about her gym?
Had she been using him this whole time? She was an ambitious business woman.
But she should have asked him first before she did a reveal all. This felt like a betrayal and it left a sour taste in his mouth.
Maybe this was a sign that it was time to pull back.
He�
�d already bent his rule about not getting too involved. Hell, before this went down, he’d been fantasizing about what it’d be like to be her man. Forever.
But now it looked like she’d been using him. Or at best, had been opportunistic with his fame and reputation. He didn’t like it.
When she’d texted the night before he’d let it go unanswered.
Tonight, perhaps, when he went over there with Donnie.
He finished his daily workout, lifting hand weights and doing his squats and burpees.
His phone rang again. It wasn’t even 8:00 yet. He glanced at the number and his throat closed.
His dad. What in the hell did he want?
He stared at the ringing phone. His brain had stuttered to a halt, the old childhood resentment battling with his no-drama policy. Five rings and the thing went to voicemail. Fine. Good. He had nothing to say to the man, anyway.
Shaking his head, he headed for his shower.
Damn, this day wasn’t shaping up to be a good one.
* * *
Brandy called an emergency lunch playdate. If ever she’d needed her friends, it was now. Her brain was so muddled, she didn’t know what to think about anything. Rick hadn’t texted or called her back—it had been over 24 hours. That was weird. She figured he was mad about Angelina’s article yesterday, and with today’s horrible column in the Chronicle, she feared he’d hate her forever. He certainly had to blame her. The press never would have had the scoop on the work he was doing with Donnie if she hadn’t blabbed it to Angelina. And she’d known Angelina intended to write an article and hadn’t even tried to stop her. Her only concern had been that their relationship not be mentioned. She really should have asked Rick for permission first.
She got a booth for four at Americas and sat down, swirling a plantain chip in the olive oil and lemon mixture while she waited.
She rested her cheek on one hand and drummed her fingernails on the table. Where should she go with all this?
Angelina found her and scooted in first. Her eyes were wide and her forehead was crinkled in concern. She dropped the open sports section of the Houston Chronicle on the table. “Honey, I’m so sorry about that stupid column. That was so far off-base. I mean, seriously, someone needs to dump that man in a swamp with alligators.”
Scoring With Santa: Book One in the Second Chance Series Page 11
