by Ivy Jordan
The burn had become a flame, building, growing larger, hotter, and stronger. His lips were fueling it, and his hand coyly reached in, and he pressed his finger between my lips through my jeans. The blaze was starting to become unbearable.
He pulled his hand away from my nipple, but his touch still lingered, and his lips were playing over the other, creating a symphony of sensation. It was a soft, lilting melody, nuanced and rich. Then it grew in tempo. His teeth were digging in. His tongue was moving around the edges, over the tip, and every touch became a bow to a violin.
The rush was pure bliss. The flames were growing inside me, moving up past my lips to overtake my entire pelvic area, where it spread out, slowly, giving warmth to all of my neglected places. He wasn’t slowing down.
His hand was already unbuttoning my pants, and he had the other hooked into my belt loop. I was suddenly aware of his cock moving up and down my thigh as his head swayed with it. He pulled up the skin on my nipple, let his teeth dig in, then down again to start over while his cock moved in time with it.
He rose up and slid his knees closer so that they were resting on my side. He was straddling me, with his right index finger circling my breast, with his cock resting on my belly button, moving along, back and forth as he swung his hips playfully, and kept his finger moving, spiraling in, closer to my nipple.
His other hand was lifting off his shirt, one at at a time. He wasn’t going slow. His shirt was just so tight that it took that much time for him to take it off. I could see the contour of his pecs in the low light shining in from the door, the shadow beneath them, and his shoulders. They were a force of their own. Looking at them—knowing what he could do, it was frightening and comforting when he threw his shirt off.
He fell on me. His lips moved down the space between my breasts and over my stomach. The friction of his body moving against mine was like flint crashing against steel, and the fire burning inside me became more than just a blaze. It was white hot, and the heat was overwhelming.
He began to pull my pants lower. His kisses traveled with him as he did. They slid down my hips, my thighs, and finally, he pulled them past my ankles until there was nothing left between us but a thin, wet strip of white cloth.
He stood up and whipped his pants down. His cock fell out, and I could see his hand gripping it, slipping up and down the shaft. He collapsed beside me, and I turned so that I could face him. “I love you,” his voice hit me in the gut. “I love you,” he kissed me, and I felt his cock rest on my stomach again, but this time it was bare, skin against skin. He pulled back, long enough to take a breath, “I love you.”
Those three words were a life-changing revelation, sweeter than his cock slipping lower, closer to the hem of my panties. Now our bodies were touching. His bare chest was resting against my sensitive skin. His lips were pressed to mine, and his arm wrapped around my back to pull me into the sweetest embrace, so tender, so calm and innocent. I shouldn’t have doubted him. How could I?
His lips were frantic, his tongue pulling back, then through again while his cock moved lower and the shaft rested on my throbbing opening.
There was no fire now, no white hot blaze. Those were nothing compared to the pool rising up inside me. It wasn’t moisture, or rain, but it flowed through me like water and it burned hotter than any fire possibly could.
He reached his head back for a moment to look into my eyes, and I saw another layer of rich, jungle green behind his blue irises. He was smiling. “Ava, I love you. I love you so much.” Suddenly he tensed up, and the animal inside him took over.
He tore off my panties and dove his head lower to bite down on my neck. The jolt met the head of his cock piercing through my opening, and I started to feel the magma pressing up, past the boundaries that had been made for it. It was going to overflow.
He didn’t care. He was in love, experiencing the sweet, hot bliss of my body embracing his cock, accepting it, letting it slip through. The shaft was pressing against my walls, and the tip was diving deeper, all while his teeth nicked at my neck.
Then his hips slammed forward, and my voice bubbled out. He pulled back as fast as he went in, then started moving faster and faster, until I couldn’t keep track. I was convulsing, crying out, pulsing with electricity, and his finger had somehow found my clit. He clamped down on it while he rode me in impossibly fast, broad strokes.
I wasn’t sure I could take it. He was huge, like a bat being driven through me, and that was hard enough, but this speed, this friction. The burn was starting to overwhelm me. It was a fierce mix of pain and pleasure, a bliss so sweet, a rapture like nothing I’d ever felt, and it wasn’t stopping.
I could hear his hips sliding over the sheet and his hand tracing up my side. It rested on my breast, and the thumb flicked out to play at my nipple. My voice was coming out louder, and louder now, and his cock was pushing through, like he was pounding pavement. It was just as fast, and the force had to be the same.
He kept his finger on my clit, and never moved it once while his thumb circled my nipple, spiraling closer and closer. The pool of lava was growing hotter, and I could feel it growing, larger than the land could possibly accommodate for. It was already flowing out, and the pressure of his dick sliding through me was urging it on.
He moved his lips away from my neck and slowed his pace so he could look me in the eyes. I was shivering now. My whole body was tingling, and I couldn’t look away. “I love you, Ava.”
“I love you too.”
He pressed his lips to mine, and let his cock flow through me naturally, chipping away at my composure until we were both in the moment. It was the most profound thing I’d ever felt. The fluttering in my stomach met the sea of lava inside me, and they melded into something more than the usual burn that I’d grown accustomed to.
It was a celestial breeze, flowing out from his mouth, meeting the pink haze that was traveling out from between my thighs. When those two systems collided, my universe shifted, and the sea of lava inside me became a volcano, shaking with his furious thrusts, ready to erupt.
He pulled back one more time, and I could see the strain on his face. His bottom lip was jutting out, and his mouth was hanging slightly open. He gasped, and the world ceased to exist around me. How could it possibly exist with the volcano erupting inside me? Nothing could possibly hold up to that kind of power.
It was like a trumpet blast, falling down from heaven, raining in the apocalypse. My body reacted like the ground being pulled up, the soil and dust collecting in the air only to be obliterated by the continental wall of fire traveling up my stomach, up my chest, down my thighs. It moved so fast I couldn’t keep track.
I couldn’t focus. I could barely breathe. I was screaming so loud my ears were hurting, but I wasn’t fully there because the lava was descending upon my entire body, enveloping it in a blasting inferno, rippling over my skin, lapping at my nipples, inside me, outside, and even all around me. That heat was inescapable.
It didn’t die either. It was infinite. It would always be with me, transforming itself from the warm glow we experienced now, settling into the permanent loyalty that was already beginning to develop. Then, it would blossom, from a tiny sprig of young love to a thick, aging pine, something solid that we could depend on.
Epilogue
Ava
There was sweat beading up on Channing’s brow, catching the impossibly bright studio lights while I watched him from my place near the stage as he walked up to the podium.
“First and foremost, I’d like to thank the people that kept me going these past three years,” he smiled at me. “There were so many times when I thought I was just ready to die, and had it not been for the people that I love, I probably wouldn’t be here today.”
He looked around the room, to the recruiters, his coach sitting in the back, and all the players sitting at their respective tables.
“When I was a little kid, I couldn’t think of anything better to do than running. That wasn’t because
I was bored. I had everything I wanted, but I loved the idea of escaping, and that’s why I love football. It was my escape.”
He was looking at me now. “I didn’t like the world I came from. It was shallow and materialistic. Everyone was always trying to make me fit into their perfect model of what I thought I should be, so I ran. I didn’t see my world getting any better. My future was always laid out in front of me. Football was the only thing I could control.”
He looked around the room and paused for a moment. After a moment, he began again. “I always knew I’d be here standing up in front of this exact podium looking down at all of you. And I knew I’d be holding this contract. It used to be the only thing that mattered. But over the past few years, I’ve come to see the world in a different light.
“I don’t have to run from it anymore, because I have somebody that I love, that cares about me and supports me in whatever I do, even now. I don’t need an escape, because I have her, and it’s done something to me.
“I want to learn more about the world, and see what it has to offer, and I simply cannot do that if I have to plan my life around football season. What would be the point? I have all the money I could possibly want, and the game doesn’t interest me the way it used to. Life interests me. So that is why I’m formally rejecting my contract with the NFL.”
The room erupted in quick bursts of light, and a million voices all scrambling at once, people swarming around the both of us. Channing’s head got lost in the sea of people, and I was already being pulled away by security. They took me to the back, behind the stage where Channing was waiting for me.
I hadn’t been back there before. I figured it would just be a bunch of lighting equipment. Instead, it’d been turned into a living garden with rows of roses, and trellises with honeysuckle lined up on the back wall. The scent was intoxicating, but not as much as the sight of him pacing back and forth around the room.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I—should’ve.”
“No, it wouldn’t have been the same. Channing…”
“It’s okay?”
“A life of freedom? No practice? No nasty jocks summing up my cup size? It’s heaven. This is more than I could possibly ask for.”
He nodded his head. “Ava.” He got down on one knee, and I started shaking. “When I met you, I was just a kid, mad at the world. I didn’t care about anything, not even myself. I was so angry that I was ready to give my whole life up for nothing. Now all I can think about is how to better myself, and how to be a better man for you. I love you, and I don’t want to spend another day without you.”
I was crying so hard I could barely see.
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
We collided. That was the only word for it. We were already on a trajectory towards one another, and maybe we always were. But until that moment, we were traveling down different paths. There was always something that could come between us. Now, nothing could stop us. The world was a place of possibility.
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STROKE IT
By Ivy Jordan
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Ivy Jordan
Chapter One
Caleb
“Are you even listening to me, Caleb? Because your goddamn stance alone is making me absolutely crazy!”
I looked back at my golf coach, Gabriel, with fire in his eyes. We had been working on my swing all morning, and even though I was an excellent golfer, I was falling apart all morning long, to the exasperation of my coach. He looked like he was ready to murder me, and I really couldn’t blame him. My head hurt from partying the night before, and the last thing I wanted to do at that moment was to hit a ball repeatedly with an ornery man barking behind me. It was enough to make anyone crazy.
The man was a legend, no doubt, in his forties with short dark hair and angry brown eyes that were staring me down. Gabriel had been to the majors a few times when he was in his glory days, and he never let me forget it. He was an amazing coach and had been working with me for most of my career on my swing.
I just wasn’t in the mood for it today. I had been getting a lot of pressure from my parents lately, and I just felt like I was going to blow.
“Move it, Caleb!”
I threw my driver across the driving range, to the surprise of the person next to me, and threw my hands up in the air. “Fuck it. Let’s call it a day.”
Gabriel shook his head. “Yeah, good call there, Caleb. With that kind of attitude, you will win the majors for sure.”
“Don’t start. I get enough of that from my parents.”
“Well, maybe you need to hear it just a little bit more there, guy. Today, you are doing shit, and you need to consider working on your bad days because if you wake up on the wrong side of the bed at the majors, guess what? You still have to find a way to make it a good day.”
I stared out across the driving range. We had already been there all morning, and at that point, all I wanted to do was grab a drink somewhere. Stress was mounting to the point where I could barely stand it.
I knew why Gabriel was riding me hard. I had made it to the majors a few times in my career, but I always choked when it mattered. I was a choker, and it was ruining my career. Nothing was worse than hearing all about it on the nightly news, as well. People were laughing at the fact that I couldn’t seem to get my shit together. Especially since my father was a legend in their eyes.
Why can’t I just be like my dad? I wondered. He never choked, not once; he was always so cool and collected. Never doubted himself, but he had all the doubt in the world for his son these days.
I didn’t know why I choked, but it happened every single time. I had to break the streak, or my career would be over; I knew that much. I just didn’t know how. I had the talent and skill. I certainly had all the resources to get me to the top. I just had to get over the fear, the ever-mounting fear that grasped onto my throat and threatened to kill me as soon as I got to the majors.
Maybe it was because my father was a PGA Tour multi-champion, and he had all the expectations in the world that his son would be, too. My parents had sunk a lot of money, never mind the time and energy, into my career, and in four years, I had screwed it up every single time.
It was essential to my career that I make it this time. Otherwise I could lose everything. Then I would have to listen to my father rant about what a failure I was. That was too much to bear.
I rubbed at my eyes, wishing I was anywhere but there.
“Gabriel, man, give me a break.”
He sighed. “Caleb, what the hell is going on with you today? We really need to work on that swing of yours.”
“Long night.”
“Partying? C’mon, man, at least come to practice with a straight head. I know you want this – the desire to win is practically leaking out of your pores.”
“I do want it. I’ve never wanted anything more.”
“Then, what the hell are you doing partying so much? Can’t you just leave the celebrations until after you win? You need your head straight at all times. The tournament is just three months away.”
“No, I need the freedom. Blowing off steam is the only way I don’t lose my mind at this point.”
He nodded his head slowly. “Is your father giving you a hard time?”
“When is he not giving me a hard time? It’s a daily event.”
“He just wants what’s best for you.”
“No, he just doesn’t want me to embarrass him. He can’t figure out why his only son can’t make it to the top like he did.”
I turned when I heard a phone ringing. I made my way to the cart to dig around in my bag. Pulling out my phone, I saw it was
a call from my father. Speak of the devil, and he appears, I thought. I clicked on the green button and said hello.
“Caleb, how are you?”
“I’m good, Dad; how’s it going?”
“Are you out with Gabriel right now?”
“You know I am.”
“Good. That’s good to hear.”
“What can I do for you, Dad?” I looked over my shoulder at Gabriel, who was watching me intensely.
“I’m just calling to let you know I would like you here tomorrow for dinner at the house.”
I groaned inwardly; I wasn’t in the mood for any of it. “I don’t know if I can make it.”
“Caleb, I insist. The majors are right around the corner, and I would like to have a game plan ready. I want to make sure that you are preparing for it properly.”
“Geez, Dad, I’m not a kid. Besides, Gabriel has it under control.”
“Oh, there is much more to it than just getting your swing ready. Be here at seven.”
I hung up the phone without another word. The man aggravated me to no end, but there was no point in dragging on the conversation longer than I had to. We both knew I would be at dinner the next evening whether I wanted to be or not. There was no point in arguing with my father – he got his way, no matter what.
I could just imagine the kind of plan he had in store for me. He was adamant that I was to go to the top at all costs. Maybe then he would be proud of me.
I sighed as I started walking back towards Gabriel. I was under a ton of pressure to perform in the majors, and if it didn’t go well for the fourth time, I wasn’t sure what I would do. I needed to get over the fear of failing; I just didn’t know how.
It came up on me so quickly, and no matter how much I wanted to win, I couldn’t get past the feeling. It seized me like a vice, and even though I knew I had the skill and talent to be the best, I would stand there frozen, unable to do exactly what I had been trained to do. It was the most helpless feeling in the world. When it was all said and done, I was just left with regrets, knowing I could have made the shot if I just didn’t choke on it.
