First and Tension

by Tara Sivec

  With our mouths fused together, we both make quick work of shoving Quinn’s shorts and boxer briefs down just far enough for his cock to spring out, heavy and hard between my legs. My arms fly around his shoulders, a shiver working its way through my body when he groans into my mouth as I kiss him harder, while he quickly works between our bodies, rolling on the condom I conveniently, and hopefully, shoved in my bra before coming over here.

  Yanking his mouth back from mine, Quinn brings one of his hands up to cup my cheek, the other one gripping tightly to my ass as I reach between us and wrap my hand around his thick length, loving the raspy groan that comes out of him when I touch him. Lining him up with my entrance, my thighs shake with need to just drop right down on him and ease the ache that built back up within seconds.

  “This is real,” he whispers against my lips, making my heart and my vagina clench as I lower myself just enough for the head of his cock to slip inside me, the pulse of need flaring back to life when Quinn lets out a low moan, his hand on my ass gripping me tighter as I wrap my arms back around his shoulders and just hold myself still.

  “It sure as fuck is,” I whisper back.

  Quinn’s laughter against my mouth is instantly cut off when I sink myself down on his cock, both of us moaning loudly when I’m fully seated on him and rock my hips against him. His hand slides off my cheek to wrap around the back of my neck, sliding into my hair to grip a handful in his fist.

  “Want to know one of my fantasies?” I ask him through choked words, grinding my hips against him, finding it hard to breathe and speak now that he’s finally filling me and stretching me so perfectly as I brush my lips back and forth against his. “Having you hold my hair in your fist while I ride your cock. Think you can make that happen?”

  “Jesus Christ, woman,” Quinn pants against my lips, his hips bucking up and bringing him deeper, making me moan low in my throat. “Your dirty little mouth is going to be the death of me.”

  His palm smacks one of my ass cheeks, gripping it tight and digging his fingers into my flesh as he helps me start to move my body up and down on him. I push my feet into the deck on either side of his chair, holding tighter to his shoulders, riding him harder, bouncing up and down on his thick, hard cock faster, my ass smacking against the top of his thighs.

  “Game over. You definitely win this one.”

  Quinn’s mouth immediately comes back to mine, and after that, we stop talking. Out under the stars with the waves crashing to the shore, the fire crackling behind us, Quinn keeps my hair tightly wrapped around his fist, making one of my many fantasies starring him come true.

  And I decide to stop being afraid and see what happens when a ridiculously hot and talented quarterback gets serious with a ridiculously hot and talented cheerleader.

  CHAPTER 22

  Quinn

  “Sparkletastic.”

  “This is it?”

  “Yep. This is it. Glamorous, wouldn’t you say?”

  “So, you just sit here all day in the office, waiting for the phone to ring?”

  “Sometimes I get to take people clean towels when the staff is busy. That’s fun.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “You’re the one who wanted to hang out with me at work today. I told you it would be boring. Want me to teach you the rap in ‘No Scrubs’? We’ve got about an hour to kill before we can go get some lunch.”

  “Nope. I don’t like this. Let’s go.”

  “Quinn! Put me down! We can’t just leave Sandbar Cottages in the middle of the day.”

  “Stephanie is in the back, and she can handle it.”

  “Don’t you want to hear me rap?”

  “Well, duh. You can do it on the way.”

  “On the way where?”

  “Anywhere but here. I need to fuck some life back into you.”

  “Yeah, you like that, do ya? Take some more.”

  “Please… no more.”

  “Should I do it harder? Faster? You can’t just do nothing. You have to be an equal participant in this.”

  “Believe me, you’re doing enough for both of us.”

  “That’s right I am. Tell me how much you love it when I grab a whole handful.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “Yeah, that’s right, baby. Fuuuck… this is so good. Take it all, bitch!”

  “We are never going to be asked to be parade marshals again. You just hit a girl in the forehead with a Jolly Rancher!”

  “I’m a quarterback, what did you expect? I never should have been given the entire box of candy. It’s too much power. Take it away from me.”

  “Swindler!”

  “Will you stop shouting that? The neighbors will hear you.”

  “Good. They should hear me. The entire island needs to know that you are a cheating swindler.”

  “I’m really regretting inviting you over to my cottage now.”

  “I love everything about your place. It’s bright, bold, colorful, and fun, just like you. I particularly love the framed Bring it On movie poster in the living room signed by the cast. What I don’t particularly love is seeing a dart board in the kitchen, a ping-pong table in the garage along with three sets of cornhole boards, and a basketball hoop in the driveway. You’re just missing the poker table, you cheater.”

  “Oh, that’s over at Wren and Shepherd’s place now, since Wren hosts our monthly poker games. And you can stop looking in all the closets. I don’t have a swan float or a ridiculous amount of hula hoops. That was just dumb luck. Although I did work the hula hoop carnival game at the Summersweet Festival every summer.”

  “Swindler!”

  “No. It’s not happening.”

  “Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “My sense of adventure is just fine. I believe I was quite adventurous suffering through eighteen boring holes of golf with you guys today without murdering anyone. I’m not supposed to be tagging along on these OTAs with you.”

  “Did you forget how much they all bitched and whined when you tried to get out of it? Sorry, but you’re stuck with my teammates now. Back to my original suggestion….”

  “For the last time, we are not having sex in the 8th hole maintenance shed.”

  “But Palmer gave me the key! Come on, we can’t let it go to waste.”

  “We are not having sex in the same place Birdie and Palmer defiled.”

  “That was like a year ago.”

  “And I guarantee you it still smells like golf cum.”

  “What the fuck does golf cum smell like?”

  “Boredom and desperation.”

  “…and those are all my trophies and stuff from high school—Oh Christ, that’s so good. Oh fuck.”

  “Very impressive.”

  “Are you talking about all the awards in my childhood bedroom, or my dick that you keep popping out of your mouth so you can chitchat?”

  “A little of both. Please resume the tour we’re supposed to be on while your parents are cleaning up from dinner.”

  “Oooh fuuuck… Jesus, Emily… I…. That’s the bed, that’s the dresser, and that’s—Oooh God… your mouth should be illegal.”

  “I think your mom really likes me.”

  “Can we maybe not talk about my mom right now when I—Fuuucking hell, woman.”

  “Such language in front of a poster of… James Van Der Beek.”

  “It’s the Varsity Blues movie poster and you know it! I don’t have a thing for James—Jesus! Holy shit… oooh… fucking… hell!”

  “You’re being a little loud. You might want to keep it down.”

  “You think I don’t know that? I never should have dared you—Christ, that’s so good. Don’t stop.”

  “We’ve got five more minutes before we’ve been gone too long. Focus, man. I need to complete this blowjob dare.”

  “I swear to God, if you keep—Oooh fuck! Oh Jesus! Oh God! Shit! Just broke that lamp. Oh holy shit, goddamn, I fucking love dares!”

  “Serio
usly? It’s all over my stomach. What a mess.”

  “Sorry. I was actually aiming for your tits.”

  “Your aim is off. Don’t you throw a ball at moving targets for a living?”

  “Look, this is way harder to control, all right? It just… came out before I was ready.”

  “Why is there so much? Oh my God, it’s in my hair too.”

  “Glitter, man. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.”

  “The next time we accept an invitation for dinner at Wren and Shepherd’s house, it’s going to come with some rules. Namely—we do not craft.”

  “Shepherd won’t let me play in the batting cage until we help him finish these invitations for Palmer’s bachelor party.”

  “What kind of men: A—send out bachelor party invitations in the first place, and B—use fucking glitter on those invitations?”

  “Kick ass men, that’s who. Wait until you see the matching shirts I picked for us to wear. Sparkletastic.”

  “You’re sure no one was hurt?”

  “Emily, they are grown-ass men. And professional football players. I promise they were not injured in any way.”

  “I still can’t believe you sent the team to my parents’ house to spring clean, and my mom didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Look, it’s my fault she’s still not talking to you. I wouldn’t change one thing about what I said to your parents the night I met them, but I can still do whatever I can to suck up to your mom. It just gives me better peace of mind, since I’m railing her daughter on the regular.”

  “You were doing really well there for a minute with the sweetness, and then you had to go and ruin it. She really wasn’t mad?”

  “Eh, she was definitely good and pissed when they didn’t use the carpet steamer the right way, but she got over it when they gave her some wine.”

  “Oh no… how many times did she tell my great-grandfather’s building of the cottages story?”

  “Patrick said three; Marcus said seven. Do you really have flying sharks here? I thought that was just in the movies.”

  “The next time you want to do something creative with OTAs for the team, send them to the Sandbar Cottages instead.”

  “Oh, they’ll be there tomorrow watering all the flower beds, mowing the front lawns, and restocking all the wood for the deck fire pits, because you’re not doing it. You have plans tomorrow.”

  “I do? Care to tell me what those plans are?”

  “Nope. It’s a surprise.”

  “You want to go back to Hang Five Arcade and try to beat my Skee Ball high score again, don’t you?”

  “I just want to know how! How in the hell do you get that fucking ball in the 100-point cup ten times in a row?”

  “Remember that thing I did to you last week under the bleachers of the football stadium, when you picked me up from coaching practice?”

  “Mmm, that was good….”

  “Yeah, that’s how I do it. It’s all in the flick of the wrist, baby.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Snuggling up behind you on the couch while we watch Varsity Blues.”

  “I meant with your hand.”

  “You’re all soft and warm, and I just want to lay here with my hand up your shirt, playing with your tits, while we watch the greatest movie of all time.”

  “I think Crouton is getting jealous.”

  “Look, he already gets the bathroom. He’s not getting your tits too.”

  “I meant there’s plenty of room on the couch for the three of us, you crazy man.”

  “I really like you, Emily Flanagan.”

  “And I really like you, Quinn Bagley. And your hand on my boob. Keep that shit up.”

  “Where have you been all my life?”

  “Right here, waiting for you to come find me, so I could bring you down a peg or two.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Emily

  “Get a room before you melt all the ice cream!”

  To: emilyflanagan@sandbarcottages.com

  From: jeaniebidwell@sharks.org

  Subject: Job Offer

  Good morning, Emily. I hope this email finds you well. I just wanted to thank you again for meeting with me and Bill at the charity event. The information you provided was invaluable. After much discussion these last few weeks, and with some more changes to our internal organizational structure, we now have an opening for a new director to the Virginia Beach Sharks Cheerleaders, and we’d like to offer that position to you. Bill and I both feel you are the type of person who can help us bring some much-needed change to this organization with your passion and determination. I know this offer might come as a surprise, and I’m aware you have responsibilities with the family business you run. This isn’t a decision that needs to be made overnight. We have some time before audition camp begins. Attached, you will find your official offer letter, salary, and benefit package information. Please, take whatever time you need to think it over. If you have any questions, I can be reached at any time here at the office or via my personal cell phone number included in this email. I have not discussed this with Mr. Bagley. I felt this type of news might be something you’d like to share with him yourself, so it will remain confidential until that time.

  All my best,

  Jeanie Bidwell

  “What the hell do you mean you haven’t told Quinn yet? It’s been a week!”

  Wren turns her back on me to hand a customer their chocolate-dipped cone through the window, and I huff from where I’m perched on top of one of the back counters at the Dip and Twist.

  “First of all, I still can’t even believe it’s real. I keep opening my email, expecting it to just not be there one of these times and it was all a dream. But if I take this job, you know people are going to think I only got it because I’m dating Quinn. And they’ll think I’m only dating Quinn to get the job,” I remind her, a ball of anxiety taking up entirely too much room in my stomach.

  Anxiety, mixed with “oh my God, what the hell do I do?”

  “No one is going to think that,” Wren shouts from deep inside the chest freezer as she leans her stomach on the edge to reach the strawberry container in the far back, her short legs kicking out behind her and making me laugh.

  “Do you want me to get that for you?”

  “Shut up! Stop bragging that you’re four inches taller than me!” Wren shouts back as she slides off the lip of the freezer and comes back to her feet with a sugar cone perfectly piled high with strawberry ice cream. “No one is going to think you’re only dating Quinn to get a job with the Sharks. All they have to do is look at the two of you together. You’re so adorable I want to puke.”

  “Says the woman who makes us vomit daily with all her Shepherd PDA,” I reply dryly, the cash register dinging when the drawer pops open, and Wren hands the customer their change. “It still feels weird accepting the job. I want to say yes. God, do I want to say yes. But I don’t want Quinn to think this is why I started dating him. Literally, right after we officially start dating, I suddenly get my dream job? That doesn’t sound fishy at all. Do you know how many times he’s told me about past dates and past girlfriends who only used him to get something from him? It’s literally been every single woman until I came along, Wren. And that’s not an exaggeration. That’s all his parents talked about at dinner. ‘Remember Michelle Wilson, who dated him for a week so he’d pay for her ticket to France? Remember Alison Westcott, who broke up with him after he got her and all of her friends Super Bowl tickets? Remember the one who ghosted him after he helped her get that job with his old college professor?’” I finish, mimicking his parents.

  Okay, so that wasn’t all his parents talked about at dinner. I got to see his adorable baby pictures, found out his parents were high school sweethearts, and got to see their adorable pictures, and listened to them do a lot of bragging about their son and his accomplishments. It was an absolutely wonderful evening, spent with very nice, warm people, who didn’t even notice when we locked ourselves
in his old bedroom so I could hoover their son’s dick.

  They clearly adore Quinn, and they’re proud of him. And I know they would be proud of him even if he told them tomorrow he was quitting football to raise cats. I envy their relationship, and it makes me want to say yes to this job even more, just to prove to my mom that cheerleading isn’t a hobby; it can pay the bills.

  But it’s all happening so fast, and it’s all so crazy it makes my head spin. I’m suddenly dating the man of my dreams, and now I’m being offered the job of my dreams. I don’t want him thinking I went into the meeting with Jeanie and the general manager for the Sharks with any intentions of getting a job. I was just being helpful, answering their questions and giving them suggestions.

  Is he going to think it’s weird? If I actually did something crazy and said yes to this job, we’d sort of be working together. He just wanted to see where this thing could go when we started being real, and now he’ll probably think I’m turning into a stage-five clinger, getting a job at his same place of employment again, this time right after we start dating, traveling to every game he goes to, and turning into a crazy stalker, like he originally thought I was. “Hey, honey, want to carpool? I made your lunch! PB&J with the crusts cut off, and I carved my initials into the bread, so you never stop thinking about me, because I’ll find you wherever you go!”

  I need to stop watching so many Lifetime movies when I can’t sleep at night.

  “You’re being ridiculous,” Wren says, knowing me so well that she probably knows exactly what kind of detour my brain just took. “Are you planning on ghosting him after you accept the job?”

  “No!” I immediately shout in horror, just the idea of Quinn—Poof!—suddenly not being in my life anymore making me feel queasy. “And I didn’t say I was accepting the job. It just feels wrong somehow, and like I’m taking advantage of my relationship with him.”