Gunslinger: A Sports Romance

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  “I don’t fucking know.” I admit.

  I continue with my exploration of Elizabeth, and pull her even closer as I rub my thumb leisurely across her jugular vein. I can feel the blood pulsing through it. She’s staring at me now like a deer caught in the headlights, and it’s turning my sick ass on.

  After I made her come for me earlier, I was rendered speechless. I love pussy like the next man, but I could write sonnets about the way hers yielded to me. The addictive scent. The incredible taste. The power of her orgasm clenching onto my fingers for dear life. It was all I could do not to plunge my dick inside her next. So not two seconds after she came, I abruptly told her to get ready for the club, and I left the room to get my head together. She probably thinks I’m a psycho. I told her I don’t come back for seconds to any woman, yet here I am again.

  I fucking want seconds.

  I lower my head down to her lips slowly, because I very much want to taste her right now, but I want to allow her a moment to make the decision. I’m always taking from women, dictating how the exchange of power between us will play out, but with Elizabeth I want something else. I want her total and utter submission, but I need her to want me too. If I’m going to slip down the rabbit hole, I need to know that she’s falling right along with me.

  Her tongue slides between her lips, and I am relieved that her body is finally relaxing. Maybe she does want this. I slide my hand around the side of her neck while I pull her in further and take her mouth. I softly bite her bottom lip, then lick the top, then once I feel and hear an almost indiscernible sound come from the base of her throat, I take that as an invitation to explore further inside of her mouth.

  I am very familiar with the push and pull of a woman’s body, her mind and her desire, and it’s obvious that Elizabeth is torn with whether to give herself over again to whatever this is that’s drawing us towards each other. She is totally in her head when it’s clear as hell that her body should be leading the charge.

  “I can’t decide which is my favorite.” I say in a voice so foggy and deep, that I don’t even recognize it myself.

  She breathes heavily. “What are you talking about?”

  “Which part of your body. Your lips. Your eyes. Your ass. Or maybe these.”

  I start to brush my thumbs gently across her nipples and feel as they quickly pebble.

  “Masterson–” She pleads.

  Shit, I love it when she says my name like that. All breathy and soft, making my dick rigid and straining to burst through the zipper of my jeans. She’s wearing a black strapless top, which I pull down underneath her breasts. I feel a sensation straight to my cock when I reveal her amazing tits. I go back to rubbing her nipples gently back and forth with my thumbs and as I feel her body tensing with desire, I pinch both of her nipples between my thumb and forefingers with just enough firm pressure that she gasps and leans forward towards me.

  I know that I could push things further right now, but since I’m crossing all sorts of lines that could put me in deep shit a second time in one day, I’ve decided that I need to slow this down. I need to make sure that when it does happen between us, if it happens, that she is practically begging for it.

  I need her to be sure that she wants this as much as I do.

  “What do you want right this moment Duchess?”

  “I … don’t–”

  “You don’t what?”

  “I don’t know.” She exhales.

  “Do you want me inside you?”

  “Ummm–”

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  I’m still rubbing and tweaking her nipples. A few moments longer and I think I could manage to have her fall apart for me just by my handling of then. The faces she’s making are a mixture of pain and pure pleasure. But like I said, I want her to steer the ship this time.

  “Yes.”

  If I was a two-year-old kid right now, I’d be stomping my feet in protest. That one word feels like a huge bucket of ice water dumped over the top of my head. I know by her body language that she doesn’t mean it, but immediately I stop everything. I pull her top back up and step back. She was right to stop this anyway. She deserves better than me taking her on top of a hard metal desk in a nightclub office.

  She deserves better than me period.

  Fuck! I’m pissed. I’m not usually the guy who whines, “why me” about life. Hell I realize that I’m one of the lucky ones. I made it out of my neighborhood, I live in a luxury penthouse apartment, I drive a hundred thousand dollar car, I’m good at my job, and I have no problem getting whatever woman I want on any given day of the week. I have no right to be angry or ungrateful about a thing; so the fuck what.

  I’m still pissed.

  Why does Elizabeth have to be my damn cousin? Why is Joseph watching me like a hawk? Why did I sign that damn contract? Why is she flirting with this swimmer? And why for the first time in my life, have I found myself in the middle of a situation that I cannot fix my way out of.

  “So the swimmer. You’ll stop dancing for him right?”

  “I’m not dancing for anyone Masterson. We were dancing together.”

  “Well let me put this another way. I don’t want to see you two dancing together again.”

  “Or what? You’ll bury him in the backyard until he grows?” She asks sarcastically.

  “We were kids. When are you going to let that go?” I smirk.

  “You’re still the same badass kid you were back then.”

  “I’m even worse now. Try me.” Please try me.

  “I like Jagger.”

  I think she wants me to pummel him.

  “What do you mean you like him? I brought you out tonight to meet my friends and see what I’ve done so far with the club. Not hang out with Captain America. He wasn’t invited. Like him on your own time.”

  She looks at me pensively for a moment.

  “What happened earlier tonight and just now can’t happen again Roman. You know that right?”

  I’m beginning to hate when she calls me by my first name. I’m starting to see that when she says it, it isn’t a good sign. Masterson is the man she met a few weeks ago in the club. That name rolls off of her tongue like warm butter and makes my dick stand up and beg. That’s who she calls out for when my mouth is in between her legs. Roman is the name of her fucking cousin. The boy who buried her in the yard when she was six. The guy who doesn’t stand a chance with her.

  “I’m not sure I can promise that,” I say in complete honesty but with regret.

  “You’re insane. We’re cousins Roman. Juliette and Joseph would freak. My parents would freak. Hell, you avoided me for weeks when you found out who I was.”

  “Just ditch the swimmer or I’ll kick his ass Elizabeth.” I bark out in frustration. Of course I know she’s right. Everything she’s saying is right, but my dick seems to be in complete disagreement.

  “You’re a complete ass Roman!”

  Then she picks up her glass, spins on her heels, and slams the door with a great deal of strength behind her.

  Not ten fucking minutes later I find Elizabeth giggling and sitting on Jagger’s lap, and just a moment before I was about to drop kick the swimmer in his windpipe, I feel two sets of meaty hands pulling me back from the brink of a night spent in police custody.

  Camden and Cutter.

  Absolute fun snatchers.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ELIZABETH

  I’M ON THE PHONE TALKING to Sloan, with my feet propped up on a pillow, eating a bowl of microwave popcorn and sipping on a glass of ice-cold sweet tea that Juliette made. My brain is completely fried, so I’ve decided to stop working on my database for the rest of the night and catch up with my bestie instead.

  “He’s cock blocking and I want to know why hooker!” Sloan asks with an accusatory tone.

  It’s been over a week since we all went out to The Lotus, and Roman has been by the house every single day keeping an eye on me (I assume), but acting like a Grade A
asshole in the process. He’s been meeting with Joseph about whatever it is they talk about with the door closed. Eating a scrumptious dinner prepared by Juliette every night. Working out like a maniac in the home gym (I spied on him once or twice). Never once coming by my room to say hello or bothering to ask me if I wanted a little dinner (selfish bastard). Not talking to me at all. All because I’m the one with the level head. The one who stopped things before they went too far. If I had listened to him and left Jagger alone that night, he would have thought that I was cosigning whatever this was going on between us. And I’m not. I can’t.

  While I usually tell Sloan everything, I have conveniently omitted all details in regards to how I’ve been allowing Roman to feel me up every chance he gets. If she told me something like that about her cousin, I’d probably send her to a shrink. There’s just no excuse. There are millions of single men out there. Why on earth do I have to be so attracted to a man whom I’m related to? Why does he have to be so incredibly sexy? Why does his smart mouth turn me on? Why does he know how to work my body into a frenzy like no one else? Why does he make me feel completely safe when I’m with him? In fact it’s just dawned on me that I haven’t once thought about my assault since he’s been around.

  Why do I miss him?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lie through my teeth. And the Oscar goes to…

  “I have eyes Bitsy. It’s obvious that tall, dark, and badass doesn’t want you hooking up with Jagger. He was cock blocking all night. The question is why.”

  “I don’t know. Overprotective cousin. What do you think?” I’m so comical right now. Acting as if I don’t have a clue. “You’re the expert.”

  I’m sure she’s nodding her head in agreement. “Usually I can call these things, but I’m not sure about your cousin. He’s tough to read. Maybe he wants to make sure you stay single, so he can continue to make fun of your life of celibacy and coding. He can’t keep up the jokes if you don’t remain the nerdy little cousin he buried up to her eyeballs in dirt.”

  I cringe at her assessment.

  “First of all, I wasn’t a nerd. I was a six year old. And secondly, it’s actually YOU who makes fun of my life of celibacy. Speaking of which, I don’t know what the big deal is about me not having sex right now. It’s not like I’m a virgin or a nun. I’m just selective.”

  “Well you might as well be a virgin. You’re almost twenty-four-years-old and you’ve had sex with two freakin’ guys. Not to mention that you got your head cracked open the minute after you finished having half-ass sex with the second one. That shit shouldn’t even count.”

  She’s kind of right … the bitch.

  “Plus, I think it changes the narrative if you actually start dating a hot guy. Arguably a guy who is way the hell hotter than Roman. How’s he going to make fun of you then? How’s he going to play big brother and drag you all over the city like he has been if you’re busy with Jagger all the time. It’s so obvious that he wants to be the only one getting laid, and of course he also wants to be the center of attention.”

  Pot meet kettle.

  “That’s a pretty convoluted theory Sloan.” I cut my eyes to the phone as if she can see how annoyed I am with this conversation.

  “Whatever.”

  “You think Jagger is hotter than Roman?” I ask out of curiosity, because throughout her long rant, all I heard was that she thought Jagger was hotter than Roman. And any woman with a pulse would realize just how crazy that sounded. Roman is panty dropping gorgeous.

  “Of course! Jagger could be a model for Abercrombie and Fitch. What’s not to like? Plus he really likes you Bitsy. He always has. This is your chance with him. Jagger fucking Reed.”

  I swallow a mouthful of popcorn and think about what she is saying. It’s true that I’ve always secretly crushed on Jagger. He’s sweet, he’s hot, and he is going to be an

  Olympic athlete for God’s sake. What is my problem? He is my perfect distraction from Roman.

  “Or is Roman cock blocking because he doesn’t want anyone else getting near your hot pocket? I mean you two did have some sort of connection before you found out that you were related. He was practically stalking you.”

  “My hot pocket Sloan? What are you a ninety-year-old grandmother?”

  “Forget about my name for your vagina. The real issue here is, do you think I’m right? Has Roman made a move over into kissing cousin territory with you?”

  “Ewww, of course not. It’s you who wants to have his babies.” I do my best to laugh her off. “Not me.”

  “Eh, I’m over it. He’s your cousin. That would be too messy for our friendship.”

  Messy indeed.

  “You want to see Jagger again right?” She asks quickly. “He asked about you on Wednesday when I saw him at Java.”

  I should want to, but all I can think about is Roman’s face when he saw me sitting on Jagger’s lap at The Lotus, and how I’m getting the silent treatment now. I guess it was kind of slutty of me. Maybe I should apologize to him.

  “I think Jagger’s just being kind Sloan. I mean let’s be honest here. There’s no way he has any real interest in me. I’ve seen him dozens of times over the years and he’s barely said hello. He’s Ethan’s friend. Not mine.”

  “You were seeing Ethan then. What was he supposed to do? Ethan was his teammate. He’s making up for it now. In fact, I think the text he sent today should tell you just how interested he is.”

  “It was a group text.”

  “He didn’t want to assume anything, so he included me in on the text. That’s all.”

  “That’s up for interpretation.”

  “The guy texted us that he’d hopefully see you specifically tomorrow at Java. That is man speak for I want to see you tomorrow at Java and you better be there woman! So I’ll ask again. Do you want to see Jagger again or not?”

  “Well … yes but–”

  “What are you worried about? Not that cousin of yours I hope.”

  “I’m not worried about him. It’s just that he’s got a temper, and he’s taking this older cousin thing way too seriously. I don’t know what the heck my mom told Juliette and Joseph, but I feel like Roman is on babysitting duty.”

  “You think your mom told them about what happened at the apartment?”

  “Well, I kind of tripped up and told him myself.”

  “You told him about Ethan!”

  “I felt like I had to explain why I didn’t think Owen was going to give me the security deposit.”

  “How about my landlord is a dick. The end.”

  “Ha. Ha. I guess that would have been another way to go, but you know I’m not a good liar. He could tell that I was hiding something.”

  “Really? Because you’ve just met the guy and already he can read you?”

  “Like I said and as you well know, I’m not a good liar.”

  “You’re also not a kid Bitsy. You’re a grown ass woman. Take your butt down to Java tomorrow morning and don’t let any of them know where you’re going. Just because you live with them doesn’t mean that they need to know your every move. Worse case scenario is Jagger doesn’t show up and you get some work done while you have a latte. Best case scenario is he throws you in the back seat of his car in the parking lot and has his way with you for an hour.”

  “You’re crazy!”

  We both start cracking up as I gobble down a little more popcorn.

  “I wish this was a Long Island iced tea instead of a sweet tea,” I say breezily. “Okay. You’re right. Of course you’re right. I’ll meet him.”

  “Good!” I can hear her clap her hands together. “In fact, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. That’ll make it easier. Juliette will think you’re out with me.”

  “Okay cool. I’ll be ready by ten. Hold on it’s my other line.”

  A call is coming in on my phone from an area code I don’t recognize.

  “Hello?”

  After a long pause a woman finally
speaks. “Is this Elizabeth?”

  “Yessss?”

  Then nothing.

  She hangs up.

  I click back over to Sloan. “Sorry about that. Just a crank caller.”

  “That was kind of long for a crank call.”

  “She asked for me by name, then she hung up.”

  Sloan was silent for a moment. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure. It was probably one of Ethan’s many hussies unaware that he’s in rehab and that we are completely finished with each other.”

  “I’m sure it was, knowing him. That’s why we’re on to project Jagger starting tomorrow!”

  “So excited.”

  “You know I love it when I make a good match.”

  “I don’t know how. You’ve never been good at it.”

  “Shut it. You talk too much girly.”

  And we laugh and giggle with each other like old times for another hour on the phone, although in the back of my mind I can’t help but wonder what or who Roman might be doing right now.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  ELIZABETH

  AS USUAL SLOAN IS RUNNING late and I didn’t get a good night’s sleep, so I’m cranky. Someone called my cell at 3:30am and hung up on me. The same crank caller who’s been calling me randomly for the last few days, although now I’m starting to wonder if it was the woman who called yesterday. Hell I thought crank calling ended in the 90s. Anyway, since I had the inability to go back to sleep after being so rudely woken up, I jumped on the computer and got some work done. Next thing I knew it was 5am. Now I have dark circles under my eyes that I’m desperately trying to cover with concealer, and I’m totally exhausted.

  Unfortunately Sloan’s tardiness has left Aunt Juliette just enough time to seek me out and knock on my door. Which sucks because I really had hoped to sneak out of the house without seeing her (she usually sleeps in on Saturday mornings). I really like my aunt, but I’m just not in the mood to hear how I’m working myself to an early grave and how I need to eat a hearty breakfast before I start my day. My aunt’s idea of a hearty breakfast is a plate of so much food that it could choke a horse. Now I completely understand why she exercises like a maniac half the time. She has to or she’d weigh five hundred pounds.