His to Win (The Alpha Soccer Saga #1)

by Alison Ryan

  His barber in London, Antonio, a semiretired Italian expat, practiced shaving a man’s face as an art form. The blade he used was sharp enough to split atoms, but Patrick had never suffered even a nick. When he left Antonio’s chair, he always looked his absolute best.

  Leaving the shop, their conversation always ended the same way.

  “Another masterpiece, Antonio.”

  “Grazie, Patrizio.”

  Patrick toyed with the idea of flying to London to have Antonio clean him up in anticipation of an evening alone with Ellie, but time didn’t permit such an extravagance. Paddy gave him the name of a more than capable barber, but the shave, although close, wasn’t an Antonio-style masterpiece. Patrick couldn’t wait for Ellie to see him after one of those shaves.

  ********

  Have any dinner plans, darling? I have reservations for two at 7:00 PM. I’d be thrilled if you’d join me.

  Ellie received Patrick’s text during an afternoon break and broke into the silly smile he inspired in her.

  Prepare your face for lots of smiling. 7:00 it is. Can’t wait! I’m still going to your hotel this evening? My things were moved? Sorry I kept so many flowers, I couldn’t help it!

  Patrick’s reply made her smile even more.

  If I thought they’d survive the trip, I’d have the entire lot shipped home for you and Maisie to enjoy until they all wilt!

  Can he be any more thoughtful? Ellie wondered as she texted him.

  The team here is insisting I go out with them briefly after work. One drink. I’ve bailed on them every night this week. I’ll pop in, pop out, and then I’m all yours.

  His reply came almost instantly.

  Sounds brilliant. I hope you aren’t out of kisses?

  Hahahaha no, I think I have a few more here somewhere if you’d like them.

  I absolutely insist on it!

  ********

  Work wrapped early, and the team agreed to go their separate ways, freshen up, change clothes, and reconvene at 6:00 for drinks and shenanigans at McEachern’s Pub, their regular haunt.

  It was cool for June, or cooler than Ellie thought it ought to be, but still very comfortable, so she decided to walk the extra few blocks to her new digs.

  Upon entering the lobby, Ellie stopped and gasped. Marble columns and mosaics everywhere, people dressed to the nines, an air of money and refinement. And in the middle of it all, feeling as out of place as a porcupine in a balloon factory, stood Ellie Peavey.

  Approaching check-in nervously, Ellie gave her name and waited anxiously, expecting to be told she didn’t belong, that there had been some sort of misunderstanding, that a common Georgia girl like her couldn’t possibly belong in a place like this.

  Instead, the smiling girl behind the counter handed her a key and explained which staircase and elevator would take her to her room.

  Strolling across the massive atrium, mouth agape like the tourist she obviously was, Ellie heard her name called. Called in a way that only one man could call it.

  Patrick, a grin splitting his chiseled face, approached Ellie and offered his arm.

  “Going my way, love?”

  Heart turning somersaults in her chest, Ellie put her arm through Patrick’s, accepting his offered escort.

  “I don’t know which way you’re planning to go, but by all means, yes. I’m going that way, too,” she replied.

  Upon reaching the elevators, Ellie began to follow an older man in a suit inside when Patrick stopped her and spoke to the man already aboard, “We’ll wait for the next one, mate.”

  When the next one arrived, Patrick quickly made the reason for his desire for privacy evident to Ellie. Pulling her into his chest, he kissed her hard on the mouth. The kiss stole her breath, catching her by surprise, but she recovered quickly, the two of them making out again like lovesick teenagers. Patrick’s hands were everywhere, on her face, her sides, cupping her ass. His kisses were voracious. He managed to reach the stop button on the elevator, leaving them suspended between floors, as their need for each other was too great to stand even a thirty-second walk from the elevator to either one of their suites.

  Ellie’s hands likewise explored Patrick’s body, running up and down the muscled chest inside the fitted green T-shirt he wore. He was attacking her neck again, fairly growling with his desperate need to taste every inch of her delectable flesh.

  Her frenzy overtook her, the moment was too much, and her hands sought out his manhood. It was easy to find, throbbing in his tight pants, and both hands grasped at it, the power of its deep pulsing causing her to writhe against the wall of the elevator, where he’d positioned her.

  Once she’d found it, she couldn’t possibly let go. The hotel could burn down around them, she thought, and nothing would break her grip on him.

  She tugged at his cock through his pants, abandoning any pretense of civility. The kisses he was giving her turning to whimpers as he felt her hands on him. It had been over a decade since any hands other than his own had touched him there, and he was overwhelmed. His mouth returned to hers, his kisses frantic as she unbuckled his belt and searched for the granite flesh inside. When she reached it, she wrapped a hand around the shaft right in the middle, shocked by the heat of it, the weight, and the throb with each beat of his heart. The entire length was slick with his precum, a wetness Ellie matched between her legs.

  “Patrick, I need you bad. Please. I’ll do anything for you.”

  Ellie didn’t recognize her own voice, thick and husky. She’d managed to release Patrick’s impressive cock completely, his pants and underwear loose around his upper thighs. He’d done nothing to slow her down. Ellie began to have an out of body experience. She was looking from above, floating near the ceiling of the elevator. Patrick Sievert, a sculpted, statuesque alpha man, loomed over Ellie Peavey, kissing her desperately. He could have anyone he wanted and yet it was clear he wanted her as much as she wanted and needed him.

  Somehow, impossibly, she had this glorious man by the root, had full control of him, both hands on his cock, as he kissed and groped her wantonly, a hand taking great handfuls of her ass through her pants and the other fairly mauling her breasts through her top. His hips were thrusting toward her, muscles rippling all over her body.

  She feared she might burst into flames at any moment.

  Suddenly, he took hold of her wrists, pulling her hands from his manhood and lifting them above her head, began kissing her hard on the mouth.

  “If you don’t stop, I’m going to make a mess in this bloody elevator. God, you’re so sexy. I need you. We’ve got to get to a room.”

  He was breathless, his arousal rampant, but, thankfully, had presence of mind to realize that repair crews would be dispatched posthaste to service the immobile elevator and they’d soon be discovered.

  Ellie wanted so badly to touch him, his chest, his abs, his marvelous cock, but he held her fast against the wall, kissing her mouth, his tongue probing her, his knee gently easing her legs apart. Once they were sufficiently spread, his left hand dipped between them, palming her mound through her clothing.

  “Will you come for me, Ellie? Use my hand to come. Kiss me, scream into my mouth while you do it,” Patrick urged her on, increasing the upward pressure between her legs.

  Ellie had never done more than kiss in public. She’d never come close to climaxing anywhere but in private. But she was too far gone. She was certain there had to be something he could request of her that she could find the wherewithal to refuse, but nothing immediately came to mind. She braced herself against the wall and began to grind down on his hand, feverishly kissing him, vaguely aware that they might be on camera, and that a repairman could arrive at any moment, that this whole thing was completely out of character for her, so wrong . . . then it happened.

  Patrick’s mouth sealed on hers and her scream was absorbed by him. He’d released her wrists, his free hand on her ass, controlling her writhing, keeping her hips focused on the task at hand. Her arms were
around his neck, to keep him close and to keep her in an upright position as her climax did all it could to wrest control of her legs from her conscious mind.

  As the aftershocks lessened, Patrick kissed her tenderly.

  “Oh Ellie, you’re so beautiful. Thank you so much.”

  “Thank me?” Ellie asked. “Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you?”

  “My pleasure. No less than what you deserve. We should really get to one of our rooms so you can have as many more as you like,” Patrick replied.

  Regaining his composure, Patrick helped Ellie to smooth her clothing, to keep up appearances when they emerged on the third floor.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Ellie’s room was nearer the elevator, so they stumbled their way there, his arm around her hip, neither able to pry themselves away from the other.

  After some fumbling, Ellie managed to make the key work and they all but fell into the room. Patrick positioned her facing the wall, standing behind her. Her hands were above her, in position for a police frisking. She was eager to be submissive to Patrick. She would have done anything he requested. As long as it involved his mouth on her again.

  Patrick gathered her hair and kissed the nape of Ellie’s trembling neck. His kisses became more urgent as his free hand gripped first her hip and then moved up to cup and palm her left breast.

  “Do you want this, Ellie?” Patrick whispered in her left ear.

  Ellie’s raspy voice responded “Oh God yes, Patrick, yes, take me. Please.”

  Patrick pulled her top free from her pants, and slipped it off over her head, marveling at his first look at her flawless back. Next to go was her bra, shaken off her arms once he unclasped it. He spun her into his arms, desperate for a look, a feel, a taste of the breasts he’d first noticed on the plane.

  He held her face in his hands and kissed her mouth deeply, moving his right hand down mid-kiss to graze the back of it against her aching nipple. Just as his knuckle dragged agonizingly across the tender bud, his left hand entangled in her hair and pulled her mouth hard to his, kissing her even more deeply than before.

  Somehow between the doorway and the bed, the remainder of their clothing was shed. His amazement at the softness of her curves was matched by hers at the hard, rippling muscle all over his body.

  Everywhere her hands roamed, they encountered unforgiving granite.

  Everywhere his hands roamed, they encountered cottony softness.

  Never had either of them felt anything that excited them more.

  They fell together onto the bed, kissing, groping, bodies mashing together, desperate, it seemed, to have as much of their own body in close contact with the flesh of the other.

  Ellie’s need had not been met by the climax in the elevator; that orgasm had been merely an appetizer. The main course had just arrived at the table. Her hunger for him was primal, guttural.

  She rolled onto her back, tugging gently on his arm to invite him into her. She found herself shocked at how wet she felt down there, hopeful that even as large as he was, that when he entered her that he’d find some sort of friction.

  Patrick was terrified. Ellie was beautiful, sexy, delicious in every way, but it had been so long since he’d been with a woman, he feared the first thrust might finish him. It was like he was a teenager all over again. Flickering in his mind was the first time he pulled on a United States Men’s National Team jersey—it represented everything he’d worked for and ever wanted, but at the same time he was absolutely scared out of his mind.

  He positioned himself between her legs and tried to give voice to his fears.

  “Ellie, you’re gorgeous.” Kiss. “I want you so badly.” Kiss. “I just have to warn you.” By this time, his erection was maddeningly close, bobbing in the air, tapping her soaking vulva, less than an inch from her opening, as he held himself suspended above her. “I haven’t been with anyone in ages.” Kiss. “I don’t know if I’ll be any goo—”

  Ellie wrapped her legs around his and reached down to take hold of his cock, guiding the tip into her before grabbing his ass and pulling him in.

  The moment of penetration was cataclysmic. Patrick had never felt anything like Ellie wrapped around his prick. Like a hand of velvet completely encasing his manhood, her pussy seemed to massage his length everywhere at once.

  Ellie, for her part, was experiencing an unprecedented fullness. His girth stretched her as nothing had before, but without the pain of losing her virginity. No, this was an altogether different kind of stretching. It was like her body had been designed to accommodate one man on Earth perfectly, and she’d just found him.

  Patrick adjusted her hips and sank the final inch of himself into her, kissing her hungrily as he did so.

  They lay just that way for several seconds, perfectly still but for his cock throbbing in her core and their tongues waging war inside their mouths. In fact, to an outside observer, the couple may as well have been a beautiful work of sculpture, a collaboration between Michelangelo and Botticelli.

  As good as the position felt for both of them, however, their bodies knew only one thing could intensify their shared ecstasy—thrusting.

  Patrick withdrew slowly, Ellie’s body displaying its reluctance to release him by clinging to his every inch. He entered her deliberately, staring into her eyes, nostrils flared and teeth gritted. With each thrust, the speed increased almost imperceptibly, until, approaching jackhammer speed, Ellie pulled Patrick’s torso close, biting into his shoulder to stifle her screams.

  The orgasm’s speed shocked her as much as its ferocity. She’d never climaxed during intercourse before, either holding back out of some sort of self-conscious nervousness or due to the incompetence of her past lovers.

  This is what a proper fucking feels like, was the last rational thought that crossed her mind before the sexual eruption deep in her core. It frightened her, as there was little buildup, virtually no warning; it was a wild beast smashing its way out of confinement.

  The orgasm triggered a trembling in Ellie, uncontrollable shaking, cold and hot all at once. Patrick feared she was having a seizure, and fighting every urge in his body, he withdrew, holding her close, and tried to comfort her.

  “Ellie, I’m sorry, are you OK, love?”

  Ellie smiled weakly, bringing an index finger to his lips to quiet him and wrapping her arms around his neck nuzzling into his chest.

  Patrick cradled her as the last aftershocks jolted her, and suddenly her bliss turned to red-faced embarrassment as she realized she’d just caused a man, not just a man, a MAN, to stop having sex with her because he feared she was having a stroke. She couldn’t bear to have him look at her, and she extricated herself from his arms.

  “I’m . . . I . . . Patrick I’m so sorry. I . . . please don’t look at me. I just . . . oh no . . .” And with that she left the bed and sought refuge in the bathroom, locking the door behind her, collapsing onto the floor, sobbing into a towel.

  Patrick was thoroughly confused.

  One moment he was having the best sex of his life, the next Ellie was shaking as if possessed and then running away into the bathroom. His impressive erection disappeared as quickly as he rose and found his clothing piled on the floor by the door.

  He tapped softly on the door. “Ellie, what can I do to help? I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t want to . . . hurt you? I don’t know what happened. Can I help you?”

  Between sobs, Ellie choked out a reply. “No, Patrick, I’m the one who’s sorry, I’m so sorry, you’re so perfect and I’m so fucked up. I can’t, I’m sorry, thank you for everything. I just need to be alone.”

  “I hope I didn’t do anything wrong, Ellie, I truly do.” Patrick pulled his shirt and pants back on as he spoke. “I thought everything was fantastic. I’d never hurt you, Ellie. Please, let me in and we can sort it out. We can lay in bed all night, we don’t have to do anything. . .”

  Ellie’s sobs had become sniffles, “I know . . . it’s all my fault. Please just go back to y
our room. I need to be alone. I’m sorry, I’m really so sorry.” Ellie began to run a bath as she heard Patrick’s last words and the hotel room door closing with a soft click.

  “Ellie, I don’t understand what happened, but if you want me to go, I’ll go. Maybe it was all too fast . . .”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  As Ellie sank into the tub, her mind wandered back to her junior year at Ohio State.

  She’d bumped into Jace Trapp on campus and recognized him immediately. To her surprise, he actually recognized her, and called her by name.

  He’d been a star linebacker in high school, coached by her father, a heartthrob with a reputation as a ladies’ man. A variety of small colleges recruited him, but the big-time programs judged him a step too slow and a few inches too short.

  He’d eschewed stardom at a lower level to scrape and claw his way onto the Buckeyes’ roster first as a practice player and, eventually, through sheer determination and guts, a contributing member of the Buckeye defense.

  Ellie had always admired him from afar, warned by her father to “never date football players; they’re no good!” Not that it would have mattered if Daddy had encouraged her to date them. Guys like Jace Trapp were into cheerleaders and soccer players, not readers and writers.

  “Ellie? Ellie Peavey? Coach’s daughter?” Jace asked a flustered Ellie.

  “Y-yes, that’s me. You’re Jace, right?”

  “In the flesh. Do you go here? I mean, duh, you’re carrying a backpack, of course you go here. Hey, do you have plans tomorrow night?” His charm still oozed out of his perfect pores.

  “No, nothing serious, I was just going to study.” Ellie was completely shocked this conversation was happening.

  “Forget that, you should come over to the Sig Ep house. Big party. Probably lots of football players, but I’ll protect you! Seriously, get your roommate or some friends or whatever and come over there any time after 10:00 tomorrow night. I’d be honored to have a drink with Coach P’s little girl.”