Hooked Up: The Game Plan

by Jami Davenport

  Callie dug her fingers into his hair and parted her thighs, which was like putting out a welcome mat. Come on in and make yourself comfortable. Oh, yeah.

  Drake found her clit and sucked on it while thrusting his fingers in and out of her tight, little snatch. She hung onto him as she shuddered, her entire body shaking, and came with an ecstatic cry.

  Drake looked up and watched the various emotions playing across her face, sharing her ecstasy and relishing being the one who gave her such pleasure. He patiently waited until her tremors subsided. Lifting her, he stood then carried her to the large oak executive desk. He sat her on the edge.

  “Don’t move, honey.”

  She swayed like a boneless cat, half-drunk by the aftermath of her orgasm. Her half-lidded gaze roved the length of his body then came back to rest on his face. “Your turn to strip.”

  His sweet little princess spoke with a smidgeon of attitude. He liked that. He also liked how she was beginning to gain her confidence around him.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Drake never disappointed the ladies. Kicking off his shoes, he yanked his sweatshirt over his head then followed it up with his T-shirt. After unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, he shucked them and kicked them across the room. A second later, his underwear joined the pile. Straightening, he broke a smile as her mouth dropped open, her gaze locked on his cock.

  “It’s—” She seemed to struggle for the right words.

  “Impressive? Massive? A major love tool? Hotter than a bottle rocket? And bigger than a bread box?”

  “All of the above.” She laughed and reached to touch him as he stepped closer. She stroked him with reverence. His cock responded by hardening and begging for more. Okay, well, it didn’t exactly beg, but Drake did. He pressed closer to her, held her shoulders in his hands, and threw back his head, eyes closed, just living in the moment. She ran her finger down one side and up the other, circled the tip, then back down she went. She cupped his balls, rolled them in her hand, and then started the process all over again.

  He thought he might die. At the least, his knees threatened to give out and drop him to the floor. That would fucking not work. Not when he had bigger plans for entwining his body with her body.

  Drake bit down on his lower lip and moaned, not sure how much more of this torture he’d be able to stand before he lost control. Taking matters into his own hands, he pushed her back on the desk and leaned over her. Bending down, he stole another life-giving kiss and then moved lower. He sucked one of those perfect pink nipples into his mouth while plucking the other. Her tits alone would fuel an entire team’s wet dreams. They just might fuel a few of his nightly fantasies for the next several months too.

  He buried his face between her breasts, breathing in the unique scent of her, relishing the feel of her silky skin against his stubbled jaw.

  He’d done this a million times with countless, faceless, nameless women, yet somehow he knew Callie wouldn’t be easy to forget. The fact he actually remembered her name gave testament to that. She was different. She wasn’t a normal groupie. Nor had she been around the field a few times. Heck, he wasn’t sure if she’d made it out of the locker room. He loved being the guy to show her the ropes, give her a unique experience. She’d never forget these few hours with him. He’d see to it.

  He suspected he’d never forget them either.

  ****

  Callie threaded her fingers through Drake’s hair as he bent his head to her breasts. She might come again with just his mouth sucking her nipples. “I think it’s time for a condom.”

  He lifted his head and rewarded her with a crooked smile. After crossing the room in a few long strides, he dug in his pants pocket, removed his wallet, and pulled out a condom. He held it up for her inspection and grinned. "Never leave home without it."

  "I'm one of many." She forced a smile, even as she gritted her teeth. Some of the good feelings faded away.

  "Honey, you are unique. One in a million." He ripped the wrapper off the condom with his perfect white teeth and rolled into onto one impressive cock.

  "That's not a very original line."

  "It's not a line." He looked dead serious. Those gorgeous eyes of his drilled into hers as he approached her and rested his hips between her spread legs.

  She rolled her eyes and swallowed. Hard. Like she'd believe that in a million years. This man had more lines than the Bible had verses.

  "You seem to doubt my credibility. If I told you I was a master at sex, would you believe me?" His eyes sparkled with mischief as he rubbed against her.

  "That I'd believe, as I've had a little experience with your masterful tongue."

  "Ah, yes, but baby, you ain't seen the tip of the old iceberg yet."

  “What woman needs ice when the man she’s with is packing heat like you are?”

  His grin returned, even broader. “You’re a smart woman.”

  “You’re a lucky man.” He didn’t miss a beat. He pressed his cock against her slit, all the while keeping his gaze on hers. She shuddered and angled her hips, needing him inside her more than she needed to breathe. His large cock pressed inside her, stretching her to her limits, but Drake showed amazing control and kindness, even though holding back had to be killing him. He paused each time she tightened around him, waited a short while then pushed a little deeper.

  Callie wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, plunging her tongue in his mouth, controlling the kiss. He let her as he continued his slow, torturous journey into the depths of her body. She felt full, yet her body sheathed him, clutched at him, welcomed him inside. He pressed deeper as she kissed him harder. Then he took over the kiss and thrust inside her the final few inches, burying his tongue in her mouth at the same time he buried his cock in her body.

  His chest hairs rubbed against her nipples, sliding across them with delicious friction. She encircled his waist with her legs and invited him deeper inside. The sensations of a hard cock inside her pussy just about did her in. Again. The tremors started to build.

  Drake shook his head. “Oh, no, you don’t. Not without me.” He withdrew until the tip of his cock teased the folds of her pussy, ignoring her whimpered protests. Despite her attempts to draw him back inside, he held her hips still and waited.

  Too long. Way too long.

  Finally the man took mercy on her and buried himself, only to slide back out again. In. Then out. In. Then out. He established a regular rhythm, one too slow and careful for her purposes. Callie had never had a man like this one. A man so capable of taking anything he wanted, yet considering her feelings first. She’d never felt such raw power and rippling muscles under her fingers and against her body. And she’d certainly never felt a cock even a portion of his size.

  “Like that?” He watched her eyes as he increased his rhythm a notch.

  She nodded vigorously. “I’d like more. A lot more.” Grabbing his arms she leaned backward and changed the angle so his cock touched her higher inside.

  Drake pressed harder and picked up the pace. She could see etched on his face how hard he fought to keep himself under wraps. His control started to crack, and Callie wanted it to crack. She needed him hot, hard, and heavy, all man. Just like she’d dreamed it a thousand times on those cold winter nights and hot summer days. If she was still dreaming, she’d rather die in her sleep and never wake.

  Callie dug her heels into his ass, which snapped his last thin thread of control. He slammed into her, each thrust harder than the previous, so hard each in-stroke lifted her off the desk. The sounds of their harsh breathing and bodies slapping together filled the small room. The smell of sex and sweat reached her nostrils. Muscles clenched in Drake’s strong thighs as he pistoned in and out of her. Then he stopped just like that and withdrew.

  She opened her mouth to protest. Before she uttered one word, he flipped her onto her stomach and entered her from behind with one hard, rough stroke. Her body slid across the desk, sending papers flying. She grabbed the edge as Drake powered
into her from behind over and over again. So deep she swore he touched her womb. Reaching around, he grasped both of her nipples, pinching and twisting them in a manner which would have been painful with any other man. But the intense pleasure of his big cock ramming into her and the feel of his fingers on her nipples drove her into a frenzy of out-of-control lust.

  The tremors built in her again. Even as she felt his own tremors, felt his cock jerk several times, while his fingers latched onto her nipples and squeezed. She panted as a triumphant scream tore from her lungs and bounced off the walls. Callie came in a wild rush of rioting emotions with pleasure so intense she swore she’d die, but she didn’t care.

  But she didn’t die. At least, she didn’t think so.

  A second later Drake came. His own hoarse shouts filled the room and most likely could be heard above the music in the bar. Callie didn’t care. Not one damn bit. Boneless and spent, she sprawled across the desk. Drake lay on top of her, his heavy body covering hers. Sweat drenched them and trickled down her face.

  Finally Drake stood. He turned her around. Cupping her chin in his hand, he kissed her softly, gently. His satisfied half smile said it all. “That was fucking incredible.”

  “Yeah, it was.” She watched as he wrapped his spent condom in tissue and threw it in the garbage can.

  He gathered his clothes, dressed, and then headed to the door. Hand on the door knob, he hesitated. Turning back, he looked at her. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Then he was gone. Gone from her life forever, but not from her memories. Memories of him would fuel a million lonely nights. She’d never forget her one-night stand with a football star and legendary lover.

  With a laugh, she stared at the door. Her body tingled, still replaying the sensations of Drake’s body against hers. Callie smiled and touched her cheek where his rough stubble had left a whisker burn.

  She could tick a one-night stand off her bucket list. Perhaps, next time she would stalk a hockey player. She’d heard plenty about their stiff sticks.

  ****

  About Jami Davenport

  Jami Davenport has been writing since she was old enough to know the alphabet. An advocate of happy endings, Jami writes sexy romantic comedy, sports hero romances, and equestrian fiction. Jami lives on a small farm near Puget Sound with her husband, a former Green Beret turned plumber, a Newfoundland cross with a tennis ball fetish, a prince disguised as an orange tabby cat, and an opinionated Hanoverian mare.

  She works in IT for her day job and is a former high school business teacher. In her spare time, Jami rides and shows her dressage horse and grows roses. An avid boater, Jami has spent countless hours in the San Juan Islands, the setting for her first two books. In her opinion, it is the most beautiful place on earth.

  Website: http://www.jamidavenport.com/

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jamidavenport

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/jamidavenport

  ****

  Hole in One

  by Sandra Sookoo

  You are cordially invited!

  What—Hunter Anderson’s Annual Strip Tease Golf Party

  When—October 5th, 8:00 p.m.

  Where—Dead Man’s Hollow Golf Course at the Anderson compound

  You guys know the rules, but just in case you’ve suffered memory loss since last year, here they are:

  If you get a hole in one, everyone in the party has to remove one item of clothing.

  If you hit your ball into a water hazard, you have to take a punishment from your team mate

  If you fail to complete the hole within four strokes, you lose a piece of clothing.

  If you bump your teammate's ball, you have to share a kiss with your teammate—tongue required.

  If your ball hops the course or you lose the ball while trying to complete a hole, your teammate chooses your punishment.

  Two infractions in two consecutive holes wins you a ten minute penalty in the shed of shame—punishment chosen from a random member of the party. Hookups are acceptable and pictures are encouraged.

  Whoever ends up naked after nine holes has to buy the entire party dinner.

  Whoever is still dressed at the end of nine holes buys a round of drinks for the entire party.

  There you have it, folks. Guys, make sure you wear new boxer shorts or jockeys—no tightie whities at this bash—and ladies, bring the sexy lingerie. Grannie panties not accepted.

  ****

  “Geez, Trina, I’m here, all right? I’ll meet you in two minutes.” Nisha Patel hung up on her best friend then slid her phone into a front pocket of her denim skirt. She and Trina had been friends since the day in sixth grade when they’d both been traumatized by wearing the school-issued green-and-white gym suits for P.E.

  She put on a baseball cap and pulled her thick, black hair through the plastic adjustor. Not only would it keep the evening sun out of her eyes, but in case she had to start stripping right away, it would give her bonus time. She checked her make-up in the rearview mirror then reapplied a deep, rose gloss to her full lips. After tossing the tube into the glove box, she lightly covered her eyelids with a wash of gold shadow. Matching gold flecks swam in the brown depths of her eyes. She’d always considered her eyes her best feature. Thank goodness for her Indian genes. Depositing the shadow with the gloss, she closed the glove compartment. With her stomach in knots, she pushed open the car door, exited, then slammed the door behind her.

  Feeling pretty was one thing. Knowing, deep down, she did it in case Reid showed up was another. Yeah, they’d ended their relationship, but she’d never managed to forget him. In the cobwebby recesses of her mind, she thought about him and played the “what if” game. What if she’d made a mistake dumping him? What if they hadn’t been ready for a relationship back then but might be now? What if she never got over him completely?

  The parking lot of Dead Man’s Hollow miniature golf course held a handful of cars, and she recognized them all. For five years she and her closest friends from college had gathered here for one night in early October for striptease miniature golf. Hunter Anderson might only be an assistant coach to the city’s professional football team, but he’d also made millions right out of college by selling a software program to a huge investor. That’s how he’d been able to buy the property and build the course, giving privacy to the decadent event.

  Sometimes she was lucky and got to keep most of her clothing on, sometimes she wasn’t, but never had she been forced to ditch her bra or panties, which was great since she always stressed about playing the game a month before the event, anticipating Reid showing up.

  Too bad he hadn’t come in three years, but again, there was always the what-if.

  No matter that the event was by invitation only, she hated showing up every year, for two reasons: Reid might be there, which would send her careening off into emotional no-man’s land, and she enjoyed the thrill of doing something naughty, even if it was just once a year. Of course, it was also her way of secretly sticking it to her parents. She didn’t like being the “good girl” all the time, and this outing was the perfect antidote.

  The poster parents of helicopter parenting, her mom and dad maintained any time spent outside of studying for another degree was wasted. You’re not using your intelligence to its full potential.

  Nisha shook her head. Her parents’ aspirations for her life weren’t her problem. A grin curved her lips. They’d almost had heart attacks when she’d announced her job in a biology lab was too stressful and she’d decided to follow her dream of owning and operating a vintage clothing store.

  Nisha, no one cares about used clothes. The way to riches in this country is big corporations and innovative ideas. Afterward, you marry someone with multiple degrees and his own company. Her father’s words rang in her ears while she crossed the parking lot. That incident had been two and a half years ago.

  A snort of laughter escaped. Her dad just couldn’t deal with the fact that pulling in a s
ix-figure salary wasn’t her dream. Germs under a microscope were poor substitute for conversation and loving what she did.

  As she rounded the sidewalk that led to the attendant stand, her heart sank. The gang was already there. Crap. She’d hoped to arrive sooner and get the jump on the others, watch them as they came instead. Plus, she’d wanted to steel herself in case Reid came this year. He’d always been a wild card. There was always a chance he’d attend. Trina waved, and Nisha waved back.

  She glanced around the gathering and the knots in her stomach tightened then dissolved into flutters. He’s here. She hadn’t seen Reid Bowman in three years. And she would never get enough of him. The annoying man had stolen her heart back then even though he’d been a jerk, and she hadn’t recovered, but until she saw him now, she hadn’t known exactly how strong her desire to be with him again was.

  Not caring that he’d know she was deliberately ogling him, she let her gaze rove over his body. From broad shoulders filling out every inch of a black polo shirt, past a slim waist to narrow hips and lean thighs encased in khaki cargo shorts, he was still the object of her fantasies. How many times had she wielded her vibrator and pretended it was Reid’s fingers on her clit or his cock pounding her cunt? As her breath hitched and her heartbeat tore through her body, she raised her eyes to his.

  Reid’s wide grin sent heat hurtling into her bloodstream. Her nipples responded, poking against her coral T-shirt. For one terrifying, exhilarating second his gaze dropped to her chest before he refocused on her face.