by Claire Adams
"I get a ride today? Is it my birthday?" he teased. I lined him up with my wet slit and sunk him into me. He gripped my hips, controlling my speed.
"Slow," he said harshly. He pressed me down onto him inch by agonizing inch till his full length filled me. I started slow like he wanted, grinding my hips into his. Not a spot inside me felt untouched, he filled me so completely. His girth stretched me, filling the space that for years had been only his.
He sat up suddenly, hitting me at a different angle. I rode him, feeling his lips close around my nipple and his fingers reach back between my cheeks to toy with my rosebud. He was stimulating every part of me. He was so thorough, I whimpered as he gave me everything I didn't need to ask for because he already knew.
His arm closed around me, and in a flash, I was on my back, his weight bearing me into the mattress. He rocked in and out of me, slow and steady. The long, hard strokes completed me, torturous and sweet at the same time. My opening wept around him, wet beyond belief. I tried to hold off my orgasm, wanting this to last, but I didn't stand a chance against the man who knew my body almost as well as I did. I let the wave knock its way through me, convulsing and crying out.
He went faster, grunting and thrashing till I felt his orgasm, his cum shooting powerfully from his dick, coating my walls. He sagged into me, panting, and kissed me sweetly before pulling out and rolling onto his back, taking me with him so I rested on his chest. Sated, we both came down from the sexual high, intimately together even though he was no longer inside me.
I couldn't keep my hands off of him. His skin was slightly damp where one rested on his chest. I always loved that he never waxed his chest or anything like that, being with a guy who had less body hair than I did was a pretty strong turn-off. I felt comfortable pressed up against him, naked after having sex with him for the first time in so long.
My fingers brushed the trail of coarse hair that led from below his navel to his dick. His hand closed around mine, bringing it to his lips and kissing my knuckles.
"Gotta give me a minute, babe," he said lightly. I was getting dangerously close to his dick and he wasn't ready to go again. I was just happy to be here. He was right there. His lips, his touch, his body... It had been even better than I could have imagined.
"I just can't believe it," I said.
"What?"
"When you left, I was hell-bent on hating you. I tried to hate everything you were and everything we did," I admitted. His chest rose and fell under my head.
"I'd do the same thing if I were in your position. I'm sorry I did what I did to you," he said.
"I thought that if I could find a way to hate you, I'd get over you faster. I never forgot this, though. I couldn't hate it."
"Sex?"
"Well, yes," I said, blushing, “but this part too. Just being in your arms again." The arm he had around my waist tightened, and I felt him kiss my forehead.
"I missed holding you," he said into my hair. His arms made me feel safe – his arms, his specifically. I had been intimate with guys since Roman, but he was... It meant more with him. There was history and friendship there. When we came together, it wasn't just our bodies that connected.
"You don't know how much I missed this," he said. If it was anywhere close to how much I had missed it, then I had an idea. "Stay with me tonight." It hadn't been a question. It hadn't even been a suggestion. He was telling me to stay the night. I could have said something, that I didn't want to stay with him, or that I didn't like it that he didn't even bother to ask me first. Both would be lies.
His hand came up and brushed against my cheek. I craned my neck to look up at him.
"I thought you had fallen asleep on me," he said.
"Not yet." I was tired, but I wasn't dozing off. "Be right back," I said, gently removing myself from his hold. He had an en-suite bathroom, so I didn't have to go far. I rifled through my purse for some makeup wipes and disappeared behind the door. I wiped my face off then cleaned up before he dried in between my thighs. We had been committed, and I had trusted him completely, so I didn’t mind that we hadn’t used protection.
Yep, and how had that turned out?
I didn't want to think about it, but the thoughts flooded through me as soon as I had allowed that little trickle of doubt in. Laying there with him it had felt right again. His force in my life was undeniable. I had been a fool thinking one measly year was all it would take to get over him. I had carved space for him in my life, and he had never stopped filling it, even when he broke my heart and left me.
He had done it once. Who was to say I was safe if I let him back in again? According to him, it was his deployment that did it. He was still in the army, even though he was home now. He could get deployed again – he probably would. What would that mean? Would he do it again? Decide for the both of us that we couldn't be together anymore?
I had just shared my body with him. The satisfaction sapped out of me, replaced with fear and something else. Regret. Roman had always made me feel proud and full and in love after sex. What if this was a mistake?
A year was nothing, but it was everything, too. What had happened that I had missed and what did it mean for us? I wanted to say the trust I had had for him was restored, but it wasn't. It couldn't be. We weren't on solid ground and look at how little it had taken for him to dump me before.
It had been too much. I had never cried over another person like that in my life. People who knew me and didn't know me alike would ask me what was wrong with me, whether I was okay because I had been such a mess. I couldn't go through it again. I couldn't. I wasn't sure a second chance with Roman was worth that much fucking heartache.
A sharp knock at the door made me jump.
"Yeah?"
"You okay?" I heard him ask. How long had I been in here? I splashed water on my face and patted it dry before coming out.
"All yours," I said as lightly as I could. He cupped my cheek, kissing me before he went into the bathroom. I waited for him on the bed, finding it hard to be comfortable there again. The toilet flushed, and he was out a few moments later, still naked. Even with all the doubt in my heart, I couldn't help the way my body responded to him.
He climbed into the bed and tucked me into his chest, facing away from him so we were spooning. I felt a kiss on my shoulder as he told me goodnight. I pushed back into him, holding one of his hands in mine. I wanted that physical comfort to make me feel like I was wrong about doubting him. I wanted so badly to feel as free and safe as I used to, but I couldn't ignore how we'd gotten here.
I knew now to watch my back. I would until he let me know I didn't need to anymore.
Chapter 19
Roman
I was up even earlier than usual Monday morning. It was still dark out and I didn't have to be awake, but I couldn't sleep. It had been this way the last three years... Well, the two years before this last one. The start of summer semester.
As a player, it had never been an option for me to skip it. Summer was pool parties and trips overseas for a lot of students, but for us, it was summer training. Obviously, with that, we had had to take classes, too.
If you had been slacking off, summer was the best time to try raise your GPA since it wasn't as busy as the normal semesters. I wasn't a student anymore, but summer training sounded pretty good to me right then. It didn't matter how good I knew I was. If you didn't practice a skill, you lost it, it was simple as that.
The training in the army had kept me pretty conditioned, but I knew I needed to get actual play time, get my head in the game again. I was excited. I was ready to get started – I needed a life again. Ron was back in my arms, almost a sure thing; all I needed now was a way into the league.
Coach Fitz had set the meeting for noon. I was knocking at his door with a couple minutes to spare. He barked at me to come in.
What was the deal with coaches? Why were they always overweight? Why didn't any of them actually look like the athletes they were supposed to train? I wasn't goin
g to say I could do the job, but it just made sense in my head. You didn't go to a doctor who smoked, why would you let a guy who looked like he'd never ran a suicide in his life coach sports?
I didn't know. It added up somehow, and I guess that was the only thing that mattered. Coach Fitz had reportedly played back in the day and injury took him out. He wasn't built like an athlete anymore, but it was clear that the guy knew his stuff. The team had always done great under him.
He looked at me as I took a seat in the chair across from him on the other side of the desk. He took his glasses off and leaned back in his big office chair.
"Roman Blake," he said, a grin spreading across his face.
"Coach," I said back in greeting.
"I had to start Greg Hackman when you left, do you know that? We lost four games back to back."
"Sounds rough; did he get better?"
"He had no choice. He had to fill your big fucking shoes," he said.
I laughed, relaxing a little. Coach had always been hard, pushing us when he knew we were half-stepping it, but he was a pretty cool dude, too. Maybe other guys on the team didn't tell it like that, but that was how he had always been with me.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry I left you in the lurch."
"We lose good guys every year, that wasn't the bad part. It just came out of the blue with you," he said. "Where'd you end up? Korea? Europe?"
"Afghanistan." He whistled.
"Right in the shit, huh? Still got all your factory assembled parts?" he asked, joking. Lucky I did because that wouldn't have went down as smooth if I hadn't.
"Still like new."
"What about this part?" he asked, tapping his finger against his temple. I was glad he wasn't sugar coating it. I didn't like being treated like there might be something wrong with me.
"Sound of body and of mind, Coach. I'm ready to play."
"I bet you are. How much field time did you get in Afghanistan?"
"Not enough," I said. More like none. "That's why I'm here now."
"I was looking forward to sending you to the draft," he said almost wistfully.
"I was looking forward to going. I know I lost a year, but I'm ready to start over. Whatever it takes."
"You did lose a year, huh," he said. "The guys getting picked up by the league for next season? None of those guys did." I nodded gravely.
"I know. I'm confident about building my base back up. I'm still in good shape, strength, cardio… I'm ready to give it everything."
"Are you coming back this semester?"
"Is that what it's going to take?"
"Why are you here, Roman?" he asked me, straight.
"I've wanted to play ball since I was six years old. That didn't change when I was injured, not when I was deployed, not now that I'm on the other side of it. I'm ready, Coach. I'll do the work. I just need an in."
"You come back from a year off, and you really think you, out of all people deserve to land a spot in the league?"
"I know nothing's going to stop me. I'll work as hard as I need to, then harder than that. I know what I'm capable of, Coach."
"I think I do, too. Losing you was unfortunate, son," he said. "You would have had teams fighting to get their contracts in your lap first."
"Still will," I said, determined.
"You would have been as good as signed if you hadn't left. Would be an awful waste to let you go."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I might have a way to help you," he said thoughtfully. "I have a connection, works with a lot of scouts, league owners, and managers; he might have a way to get you into the combine." My heart jumped into my throat.
"When?"
"Your best shot would be the one coming up. That's next month." That was about a week away. I hadn't played in a long time, so it would be risky.
"I'd appreciate that, Coach," I said instead, knowing it was the right thing. When would this come around again?
"I'll make the call and get back to you," he said. I thanked him, grateful for the opportunity. The combine was mostly a fitness test, and I knew I was up to scratch there. In my life, I had probably done more hours of workouts and drills than actual football games. I left Coach Fitz's office with an anxious, excited ache in my stomach.
I climbed into my car and slammed the door shut. What now? I didn't want to go home. I could, it made the most sense, but I felt like that wasn't what I was supposed to do just then. The news was taking a little while to settle. I was happy, but I couldn't believe my luck. I knew for a fact that it didn't usually happen like this.
The pressure was on. If I had this chance, I had to show that it was because I deserved it. I never got nervous about football, but suddenly, I was. I knew I could perform, but I also knew I had to get this right in order get me where I wanted to be by next year, hell, maybe even regular season this year.
I had to tell Ron.
The thought flashed through me like second nature. I had to tell her. I was excited and wanted to tell someone but I didn't just want to tell anyone. We had always shared what was happening in our lives together, but hadn't in a long time. I had stopped telling her things when I got my warning order for my deployment a year ago. That had been the thing that fucked us up – me, keeping my mouth shut when I should have fucking said something. Then when I had chosen to say something, it had been the wrong thing.
I wasn’t making that mistake again. I pulled my phone out and called her. I remembered she was taking summer classes, so there was a chance she was actually on campus.
"Hello?"
"Babe? Hey, where are you right now?"
"Home. Why? Where are you?"
"Can I come over?" I could see her in her apartment, stretched out on her couch reading or at that dining table studying. What was she like as a roommate? I wondered idly. We had never lived together, but I was curious.
She said that I could, she wasn't busy. The drive to her place took no time. Her footsteps on the other side of the door at my knock were audible as she came up and unlocked it. A smile broke across her face when she saw me.
"Hey," she said. Her arms went around my neck and she kissed me. This was normal. This was us, close and familiar; it just hadn't been in a long time so having it again felt sort of like a novelty.
"Hi," I said, as she let me in. "What are you up to?"
"Cooking. I just got a slow cooker, and I wanted to try it out for dinner tonight. Where are you coming from?"
"School," I told her. "I had a meeting today."
"Meeting? Who with?" she asked, sitting on her couch. I followed and sat next to her.
"Coach Fitz." Her brows went up.
"What about?"
"Football. He wanted to know what my next move was, what I wanted."
"That's to go pro, right?"
"Right. I thought if anyone could help, he could. He would know better than anyone what my skill level was, I figured he'd be the best place to start so I could get back into playing."
"Are you going to be playing for the school? How would that work?" I shook my head.
"I'd have to re-enroll for that and get my degree. No, we talked about how I'd probably be drafted by now if I hadn't gone overseas."
"Can it still happen?"
"He actually said he had a contact that could get me into the combine next month."
"Next month? That's so soon. Can you do that?"
"He can," I said shrugging. "Depending on who sees me play, I might end up lucky enough to get scouted."
"That means you're going," she said, as a statement, not a question.
"I want to, yeah. I can't miss out on something like this. The longer I wait, the harder it'll be to get in the league early enough to have a long career."
"How long would you be gone?"
"About a week. What do you think?"
"You don't need my permission to do these things, Rome," she said lightly. Her voice was light, but she looked troubled.
"I still want to know
what you think. It's a big decision. I wanted to talk to you first."
"Why? You need to go, of course; you have to."
"The last time I had to leave I didn't tell you," I said. She sighed and looked down, and I immediately felt bad for bringing it up. I just needed her to know that I wasn't keeping things from her anymore.
"This is your future, the one you've always wanted. You'll do great," she said, giving me a small smile. Again, she was encouraging me, but it felt strained.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing," she said. She sounded distant and distracted – it wasn't nothing.
"Ronnie, tell me what's wrong," I urged.
"It's nothing, okay? I didn't expect you to get feedback this fast. I'm a little surprised, that's all. This is good news for you," she said.
Just for me? When we had been together a win for one of us was one for both of us. We were just getting back on track after not being with each other for a while, but I didn't want to feel good about it if Ron wasn't. She was my main focus besides football, and I cared that I was making her feel secure with what was happening.
"It is. I've wanted this for a long time."
"I know you have. This is good. I'm happy for you."
"We should talk about it," I said.
"What do we need to talk about?"
"Something's bothering you, babe."
"It's nothing," she said. She stood up suddenly, walking around the room. I stood and followed her.
"I know you, Ron, something's wrong. I want you to talk to me."
"Really, it's just... It's nothing to do with you. I'll get over it."
"If there's something wrong, I want us to talk about it together. I made this mistake last time, Ron. I won't do it again," I said, coming up to her.
"This is your big thing. I don't want to make it about me," she said, looking down. I cupped her face and tilted it gently up so she looked at me.
"It is about you, babe. If we're together, I'm thinking about both of us. Okay?" She sighed.
