Off Season (Off #6)

by Sawyer Bennett

  Pulling back, I looked down at her seriously. “No regrets, right?”

  She blinked at me, and I could see the moonlight reflected in her blue orbs. “Regrets?”

  “About doing this… having a one-night stand,” I confirmed.

  She blinked again. “Why would I have regrets?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “We’ve both been drinking. You’re leaving for Ireland tomorrow. And Cady… you just don’t seem like the type of girl that does this.”

  She didn’t seem the type of girl to jump into bed with a near stranger because, despite her punk, emo look, I found her to be just a damn nice woman with a good head on her shoulders.

  Her hand slid down from my chest, across my stomach, and over the fly of my jeans. Her fingers curled around my erection and she squeezed, causing a moan to slip out of my mouth. “I don’t do stuff like this,” she said quietly. “But I very much want to now. So, there won’t be any regrets.”

  My brain was fuzzy, not from the beers I drank but from those slender fingers gripping my cock. A gentlemanly part of me thought, Maybe I should stop this, but the horny guy inside of me said, Bring it on.

  Reaching down, I swatted Cady’s hand away and laid another deep kiss on her. I let the night cloak us in darkness, while my hands wandered down to the waistband of her jeans. “We’re agreed then,” I murmur against her lips. “No regrets?”

  “No regrets,” she breathed out in a rush.

  “Good,” I told her as I popped the button open on her jeans. “I most certainly am not going to regret this then.”

  Cady sucked in her breath as I quickly dragged her zipper down and snaked my hand down the front of her pants. My fingers knew what they were doing… having made this journey before on countless women, and in a sensually suave move, I had my fingers in her underwear and stroking through her slick folds.

  Cady jerked in my arms and brought her hands up to grip at my biceps. “Zane… what are you doing? We’re standing out in the front yard.”

  Leaning down, I nipped at her neck and growled. “No one can see us. It’s dark out here, and I can’t wait to get inside. I need to get just a little taste of you right now.”

  Slipping a finger inside of her, I brought my mouth back down on her roughly, gobbling up the deep groan she forced into my mouth. Her hips undulated, and I pushed another finger inside. She was so fucking wet and slick, and as I kissed the hell out of her in Linc’s front yard, she rode my fingers to a blistering orgasm that came on so fast, I was amazed over her response.

  “Fuck, that was hot,” I whispered as I pulled my hand out of her pants. She sort of sagged against me and nodded in agreement, taking in a shaky breath.

  “I can’t believe I came that fast,” she said with a giggle, and I grinned back at her.

  “Well, that was enough to take the edge off,” I told her salaciously, “but I have a whole arsenal of tricks I want to do to you. Let’s get inside.”

  She grabbed my hand. We ran across the front yard, up the porch, and then we were quietly slipping inside Linc and Ever’s house. We tiptoed back to Cady’s bedroom and shut the door behind us.

  Then it was on.

  We went at each other all night… like animals… just as I envisioned it.

  It was the hottest night of my life, and I can only thank God that Linc and Ever’s bedroom was on the opposite side of the sprawling ranch home, because we weren’t all that quiet.

  Linc didn’t say a word to me the next morning. He and Ever were in the kitchen when Cady and I walked out. Both of their eyebrows raised in unison when they saw me, and while Ever had a smirk on her face, Linc gave me a glare.

  Before I could even defend that look, Cady hissed at Linc, “Not a damn word.”

  Blinking at her in surprise, he merely nodded and went back to drinking his coffee. Cady walked me outside, where we sat on the front porch step while we waited for the cab I called to come pick me up.

  I held her hand lightly in mine, and she laid her head on my shoulder.

  “Thanks for last night,” she said quietly. “I had a great time.”

  Smiling, I squeezed her hand. “Yeah, I did too. A really great time.”

  And I did. Probably the best fucking sex of my life, and I know exactly why. It’s like I was absolutely in tune with Cady, and she was completely in sync with me. Every want or desire that was coursing through me, she fulfilled without me even having to ask for it. It’s like she knew what I wanted, how I wanted it, and when to give it to me. I felt like her body belonged solely to me, and I was hell-bent on making her come as many times as I could before the sun peeked up.

  But it was with regret that the cab pulled up, and I realized I would never see her again. I wasn’t really in the market for a committed relationship, but damn it all to hell if Cady didn’t make me have an actual regret that we swore we wouldn’t have.

  I regretted that she was leaving to fly back to Ireland.

  Throwing the remote control on the table, I reach over and pick up my phone. After I turn it on, I send a quick text to Linc. Give me Cady’s email address.

  I don’t wait long before I get his reply. What the fuck for?

  Because I want to email her, douche.

  He didn’t respond for a full ten minutes, and I was just getting ready to call him when my phone chimed. I read the text, grinning.

  IrishLass1990@dubire.com

  Chapter 3

  Cady

  Rubbing my eyes, I walk sluggishly into the tiny kitchen of my flat. Jet lag sucks big time. Even though I flopped onto my bed as soon as I walked in the door, and then proceeded to sleep for another seven hours, I was still feeling the pull of the different time zones on my body.

  I make quick work of heating water in the kettle and pour myself a cup of tea. While it steeps, I sit down at the small, scarred table in my kitchen—a hand-me-down from my parents—and fire up my laptop. Classes start tomorrow, and I’m kicking myself in the ass for not coming back a day earlier so I could get some more rest. As it stands now, I know I’m only going to be half awake at my first day back at uni.

  Pulling up my email, I quickly find my class schedule that had been sent from the registrar’s office over a month ago, making note of where I’d need to be tomorrow. Luckily, I had purchased all of my books before I left on vacation, so I was ready to go. And tremendously excited too. I was almost halfway through my master’s program, and then I was hoping to land my dream job in educational management.

  When I first started at Trinity, I wanted to be a teacher. And who knows… maybe I still do to some extent, but I also have a keen interest in being a deeper part of the system. To work behind the scenes… to be responsible for the success of the institution. I decided to pursue my master’s, which would let me pursue either avenue, and while I very much enjoy my studies, I am so ready to start working in the real world.

  After printing my schedule, I delete that message and skim through my other email. Reaching for my cup of tea, it only gets halfway to my lips when I freeze at the email staring at me from my inbox.

  The sender’s name says IceCoyote46 and the subject line says: Regrets Are Subjective Anyway.

  My heart starts a mad pitter-pattering within my chest cavity, and my skin tingles. I don’t have to open the email to know it’s from Zane.

  I stare at it a moment, taking stock of my feelings. When I accepted a sweet kiss from Zane just before he got in the cab yesterday, a feeling of bitter disappointment had risen within me. Not that I had a one-night stand, but that we were parting ways and I wouldn’t see him again. While I knew it was silly to pine after someone I hardly knew, the truth of the matter was, he had been filling my thoughts a lot.

  As in… I thought about him the entire flight back to Dublin. One of the reasons I’m so tired is because I could barely sleep. Instead, I replayed everything about our night together, relishing in the memories and the feelings they reproduced.

  Not just physical feelings, which cau
sed me to squirm in my seat as I thought about Zane. But emotional feelings, because we did a lot more than just have sex. While we waited for our metaphorical batteries to recharge in between bouts of lusty sex, we talked about everything. His hockey career, my studies… my crazy family, his relatively mild and sedate family. We did this as we lay in bed together, his arms wrapped around me and my head lying on his chest. He made me giggle because his humor is dry and condescending in just the right way. We debated with spirit over the best James Bond, and agreed to disagree that Sean Connery would not be my top pick just as Pierce Brosnan would not be his. He pushed and prodded at me about my dreams after school, causing me to think twice about whether I really wanted to be in educational management, or down in the trenches with the children. It wasn’t something I had thought about lately because I had been so focused on my studies, but he made me remember that it was my love of children that led me on a career path toward teaching in the first place.

  Yes, we talked about it all… taking breaks in between our colloquy to start kissing and caressing again, punctuated with deep groans and satisfied smiles when it was all said and done.

  Damn, but I’m feeling all out of sorts when it comes to Zane Kavanaugh. My well-laid plan to get in, get laid, and get out doesn’t seem to be working.

  I click on his email and open it up.

  To: IrishLass1990@dubire.com (Cady Dunne)

  From: IceCoyote46@bizfire.com (Zane Kavanaugh)

  Subject: Regrets Are Subjective Anyway

  Date: August 29, 2014

  Cady,

  I realized shortly after you left that maybe there was, in fact, one regret that I might have. And that was in not asking for a way to contact you. I know that sounds weird, seeing as how I live in the States and you live in Ireland, but I figured… we might not be able to see each other, but why can’t we remain friends and keep in contact?

  While I fucking loved having my face between your legs and being buried balls deep inside of you multiple times, I also realize that I really liked talking to you. You’re a cool girl, Cady Dunne, and as such… my only real Irish friend. If that makes me sound like a girl, I hope that doesn’t turn you off. If instead it makes me seem very mature, and you’d like to keep up with each other, I say let’s go for it.

  The hockey season will be starting soon, and life will be crazy for me. I don’t have any real close friends outside of my teammates, and my time is always limited between practices, games, and travel, but I know I’d always have some time to keep up with how you’re doing.

  So yeah… regrets are subjective, and I’ve decided to wipe out that one regret I had. I got your email from Linc and so I am reaching out. Ball is in your court, Irish Lass. You now have my email. If you ever get adventurous, my cell phone is 602-555-1448. Your sweet Irish accent would not be hard to listen to.

  Take care,

  Zane

  As soon as I finish reading, I realize my palms are damp with sweat and my adrenaline is spiking through me. How can I feel such a moment of thrill and elation just from reading an email?

  My cheeks heat as I read back through it again, imagining the way his face was, in fact, between my legs. He went down on me as soon as he shut my bedroom door and divested me of all my clothing. He was like a tornado, his hands whipping all around me as he pulled everything off. He was still fully clothed when he pushed me down onto the bed, spread my legs, and brought his mouth to me.

  It was the first, but not the last time, that I had screamed out, thankful that Linc and Ever’s bedroom was on the other end of the house. Zane growled in approval over my vocal demonstration and attacked me with his lips and tongue. I came for the second time supremely fast, my thighs clamping onto his head and probably strangling the poor man as he gently licked at me as I fell off my high.

  God, he was amazing in bed. I’ve never been with another man before that was so focused on a woman’s body. If we weren’t actually fucking, and if we weren’t talking, Zane’s mouth was always busy on my skin. Kissing or licking… sometimes, just rubbing his cheek over my skin while he hummed with approval and murmured, “So soft.”

  Sex with Zane Kavanaugh was unparalleled.

  It won’t be able to be reproduced.

  I’ll never have that again in my life.

  We live on different continents, and we won’t have anything between us but talk.

  No touch… just conversation and friendship.

  It takes me less than a second to click on the reply button—my mind made up. I may not be able to have with Zane what I really want, but I will take the friendship he is offering. I like him… a lot. As a person, as a friend, but sadly again never as a lover.

  But this would be enough. It would have to be.

  To: Zane Kavanaugh

  From: Cady Dunne

  Subject: Who Needs Regrets

  Date: August 30, 2014

  Shock probably isn’t a good enough word over seeing your email in my inbox, but you’ll be happy to know that it was a good kind of shock. You know… like the type you receive when you walk into your house unsuspecting that your family is throwing you a surprise party for your 21st birthday. You first get that jolt of surprise, followed by a moment where your stomach bottoms out, which precedes a sharp scream that tears out of your throat, then supreme joy over realizing what was going on.

  Not that I have any experience with that.

  That’s certainly how I felt when I saw your email.

  Yes, I would love to continue on a friendship with you. I can imagine your schedule is hectic, but I’m here to listen to any tirades over a loss (not that I expect you’ll be losing many games) or if you want to dish about the latest celebrity gossip. I’m really not sure what a friendship with you would entail, seeing as how you would officially be my very first male-friend-that-I-had-sex-with-before-I-decided-to-become-friends-with-him. It puts you in a solely unique category, and I figure this will evolve over time. Who knows… maybe I’ll be able to piss and moan to you over my period cramps and you can confess to me your secret love of romance novels or something. I’ll be your confidant so to speak.

  Well, I’m off to get some dinner and then head back to bed to sleep off this jet lag. Classes start tomorrow, and I have to appear somewhat intrigued by what the professors will be talking about.

  Cheers,

  Cady

  I sit back in my chair and sip at my tea, letting my eyes roam over my response a few times. I want it to sound friendly… because that’s what this is. A friendship.

  But I don’t hit the send button yet because a part of me is a bit dissatisfied with what I’m not saying. Zane clearly had no problem referencing the intimacy we shared. He just laid it out there… the fact that his face was between my legs and he was balls deep inside of me. Those images flit through my mind, making my skin feel warm and flushed. He wants a friendship, but he shared intimate memories.

  Perhaps I should do the same… just so he knows that I very much loved everything that we did together that night.

  I may end up driving myself crazy by engaging in this foolishness, but I just can’t help myself. I start typing.

  P.S. I remember fondly and in a totally squirm-in-my-seat kind of way what you did to me with your face between my legs. It was transcendental, and I will be revisiting that memory on many a cold and lonely night.

  My lips twitch, and then I smile full blown. Let him think on that and consider what I’m feeling right now. A friendship across this distance, after what we shared with each other, is going to be difficult.

  It’s going to be interesting, but damn… there’s going to be frustration.

  Chapter 4

  Zane

  September

  I hear the chime indicating the plane has reached above ten-thousand feet, so I reach down to my backpack under the seat in front of me, pulling out my laptop. Turning it on so I can log onto the airline’s complimentary Wi-Fi, I patiently wait for it to boot up while letting my mind wande
r.

  To Cady.

  We’ve kept up a steady stream of emails back and forth to each other the last few weeks, and every time I hit the button to send her another communication, I find my patience wearing thin waiting for her response.

  Somewhere in our decision to become email friends, I discounted the fact that I would grow closer to her the more we got to know each other. It never occurred to me that even with Cady sitting across the Atlantic Ocean, I would start to feel something for her despite the distance. In fact, I never really thought this “friendship” would amount to anything when I first suggested it. I wrote to her that first time because I was still caught up in the amazing after-effect feelings of a fantastic fuck.

  Correction… fucks… as in plural.

  Because I hit that more than once, each time better than the time before.

  Yeah… I started this stupid idea of maintaining a “friendship” with her, but I never really thought it was going to last. I figured the next piece of ass that came my way would have my mind cleared of Cady’s soft skin and the delicate Irish lilt in her voice. I knew the next time I got in a girl’s panties, I would forget all about the numerous times I blew my load on that one perfect night with Cady. I was absolutely positive that she’d never be able to hold my interest for very long, especially when I couldn’t touch her… kiss her… fuck her. That’s what I needed and that’s what I wanted, but yet… I wait each day, wondering what her next email to me will say. And the truth of the matter is… I haven’t been with another woman since she left.

  It’s fucking with my head… the way my feelings are starting to morph and distend into something that I don’t even recognize about myself.

  Whereas Zane Kavanaugh basically liked to fuck his way through women, the man that looks back in the mirror at me now finds pleasure in hearing about Cady’s day, or the crazy antics of her best friend, Teagan, who is apparently like a female version of me… or so Cady says. I want to hear all about the pathetic guy that sits beside her in her Educational and Social Policy class, and whether or not he’s grown a pair of balls big enough to ask out the girl that sits on the other side of him. He apparently whines to Cady about it quite a bit, and it’s hilarious the way she tries to buck him up to no avail. She’s made it her mission to fortify his backbone this module—they call them modules, not semesters—and get him a date.