by Kira Ward
Magnus folds his body behind the wheel of the car and pulls out of the lot in a cloud of dust. I slide my hand over his thigh and he takes hold of it, tugging it higher and deeper against him. I can feel the heat of him, can feel his pulse beating in his fingers. He glances at me and there is something about the look that makes me want to be someone I never believed I could be.
I lean close to him, press my lips against the thin strip of skin above the collar of his shirt. My tongue sneaks out, stealing a taste of his flesh, and then, taking its time, moving slowly under the collar to touch skin that isn’t visible to the general population. It makes me feel a little dangerous, possessive, to touch him there. But what really makes me feel dangerous is the way he pulls my hand further up along the inside of his thigh, so close to him that the slightest movement could reveal things I’ve been hesitant to learn before now.
The seatbelt is restrictive, pulling at me as I try to reach more and more of him. I don’t know how he’s still driving, how he’s concentrating on the road. I can feel his pulse pounding in his throat as I continue to explore his tender flesh. He lets go of my hand and runs his fingers over my head, his thumb caressing the corner of my jaw.
“You should probably stop,” he says in a voice that’s deeper than normal.
“I’m not sure I want to.”
I slide my hand up over his hip, slipping it underneath his shirt. His belly quivers under my touch, his hard muscles like a mass of hard, sexy Jell-O. I love the way it feels, love that it quivers because of my touch. There’s power in that knowledge.
I feel the car swerve a little as my hand finds a teeny nipple, my fingernail scraping over it. Then I press my lips to the section of his chest that I’ve bared with my exploration. He moans, his hand pressed to the back of my head as I pepper his chest, his belly, with kisses. I’m not sure I have the courage to do what I really want to do. I hesitate a moment before I touch the heavy button holding his jeans together. But then things change. The car stops moving and his hands are both on my head, tugging me to a sitting position.
He possesses my mouth like it has always belonged to him. We kiss like we’re about to face a long, drawn out separation. It’s a kiss like I’ve seen a million times on romantic, late night movies, the kind of kiss that Ingrid Bergman should have given Humphrey Bogart at the end of Casablanca. There is a desperation to the kiss, a need that has been put off for far too long.
His hands tear at my clothing, tugging my shirt loose from my jeans, tugging at my bra until the clasps come loose. He moans my name as he dips his head low, taking my nipple into his mouth. I lean back, my head knocking against the door window as I attempt to give him the room he needs to touch me, to please me. I can’t believe how good it feels, the heat of his mouth on my breast. But even before he’s begun, he’s moving on. His hands are tugging at my jeans now, tearing at the fly, anxiously pushing at them until they begin to slip away from my hips.
I don’t know how we do it inside the tight confines of that little car. But, somehow, my jeans are on the floor, my panties in a torn mess on the leather seat where I should have been sitting, waiting patiently to find the B&B. He’s pulled me onto his lap, his mouth on my breasts again. My shirt is a wrinkled mess around my neck, my bra barely hanging on above my full breasts, above the darkness of his head. And then he’s kissing me again, his hands brushing my inner thighs as he works at the fly of his own jeans.
He wants me so desperately that we’re about to make love behind the wheel of a luxury car on a dark street in the middle of suburban nowhere. I almost expect a loud knock on the window, a flashlight shining on our shame. But it doesn’t happen. And I don’t feel any shame.
I feel him between my legs, feel the heat of his shaft brush against my lips. I ache down deep in my belly, an ache like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I’ve been told that when it’s right, it can be intensely right. I’m not sure I ever really believed that. I love the romantics, love the heat and drama of Dickinson, the Brontes, and Austen. But I’m not sure I believe fiction can translate into reality.
Or maybe I’m wrong.
Can something so physical also be spiritual? Or is it just the way he’s kissing me that’s making my head spin?
I press his cock against me and I feel his urgency as he rubs his fingers into my hips, my ass, dragging me down against him. His thickness forces me open, forces me to welcome him inside. And then he touches something inside of me at the same time his movement puts pressure on my clit, and I want to scream.
How can something so simple feel so impossibly good?
I run my fingers through his hair before moving my hands to his shoulders, using them as leverage as we begin to move. He guides me against him and waves of pleasure wash over me again and again. I can’t help the moans that slip from my lips, can’t help the way my fingers press into his flesh. I can’t catch my breath, but it doesn’t seem to matter. It feels so good that if I suffocate right there, it won’t matter.
He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close, burying his face against my breasts. I run my hands over his head, cradle him close to me. When he leans back, our eyes meet, and there’s something about the moment that pushes me over the edge. I cry out, my eyelids sliding closed as I move my hips hard against his. My orgasm rushes through me, making my belly quiver, my thighs. I hold still, not sure if I can take any more. But then he grabs my ass and tugs me hard against him, buries himself hard against me, and he reaches that glorious end, too.
I curl up against his chest, listening as his heart slows. Lights appear around the corner ahead of us. I start to laugh as I duck down a little, trying to stay out of the view of the passing car. He runs his hand over my back, laughing too.
“We should probably go to the bed and breakfast.”
“Yeah.”
I reluctantly crawl off of him, grabbing my jeans as I settle back into the passenger seat. I try not to look at him as I struggle awkwardly into my clothes. I don’t want him to see the ugly side of all this. And I don’t want to see it, either.
After a few minutes, Magnus starts the car and we continue on our way like nothing happened. But he reaches over and takes my hand, lifting it to his lips.
I just can’t seem to wipe the smile off my face.
Chapter Seventeen
Magnus
I wake early the next morning, this alarm going off in my head that’s been an automatic sort of thing since college. I can’t shut it off. But it’s not all bad. I wake to the sight of Cricket lying beside me, her beautiful body naked and uncovered among the disheveled bed clothes. I lift a piece of her hair off her shoulder and bend to kiss her there, catching not only the gentle scent of her perfume, but the scent of my own cologne-my mark on her skin.
After we got to the B&B last night, we fell into bed without bothering with our luggage, without saying more than a few words to each other. It was like we couldn’t get enough. Being inside of her was…I can’t even begin to think of the words to describe it. And when she moaned, it was this soft, breathless sound that made my cock even harder than it was to begin with. I don’t think I’ve ever been so aroused by a woman, never so desperate to touch a woman over and over again.
I’m growing hard again despite the long night we just spent. But she’s sound asleep, so I slip out of bed and grab my bag. I duck into the bathroom, thinking it might not be a bad idea to brush my teeth and put on a little deodorant before waking her up. But then I unzip my toiletry bag and find the untouched box of condoms.
Fuck!
What the hell was I doing? I’d never forgotten the damn condoms before. I’m incredibly careful, always thinking about the condom before I even get the girl into my room. Always. I’m so careful! The last thing I want is an accidental pregnancy or some disease that might cut my career short. But I forgot this time.
What did that mean?
I lean against the counter and stare at myself in the mirror. I’m angry at myself. But then I think of Cricket
lying in the bed, her bare back just waiting to be touched. Just the thought of her calms me. A part of me wants to just throw the damn condoms in the trash and stop worrying about it. But another part of me realizes how an impetuous idea like this can cause all kinds of havoc in my life. My endorsements, my contract negotiations. It can all disappear in an instant.
I slam my hands against the countertop and turn away from the mirror.
“Magnus?” She’s outside the door. I open it and she’s standing there, wrapped up in my shirt. It reaches all the way down to her mid thigh, hiding all the most erotic parts, but somehow it makes her even sexier. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Did I wake you?”
“The bed suddenly got cold.”
I touched the side of her face, drawing her toward me. She slips her arms around my waist as I press my forehead against hers.
“We have a little issue.”
She pulls back slightly. “What?”
I gesture toward the condom box. She doesn’t seem to understand at first, but then realization comes into her eyes. “I’m on the pill.”
I have to admit to a little relief. I kiss her temple as I draw her close to me again.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I’m not usually this reckless.”
“It’s okay. I trust you.”
And that…that means more to me than anything else she could have said. I kiss her hard, drawing her so close that it would be impossible to hold her any closer. She giggles a little against my mouth. I laugh, too, because it just seems so insane. I lift her up, knocking the condom box onto the floor, and drop to my knees. I nibble at her thighs, her knees. She runs her fingers through my hair, drawing me higher up the inside of her thighs.
Her body’s warm, her skin smells like the sheets and our bodies mixed together. I run my tongue along the inside of her thigh, the crease between her leg and her gorgeous pussy. She tugs at my hair, drawing me closer against her. And then I taste her sweet lips, the tip of my tongue teasing her clit. She moans, her fingers digging deeper into my hair.
I push her legs up, setting her heels on the edge of the counter. She leans back and gives me full access to her lovely hole. I taste her as deep inside as I can reach, then run my tongue up over her clit. She groans as I suck her clit into my mouth, rolling it around the back of my front teeth. And then again, I taste her deeper and deeper, needing to hear that groan that slips from her lips every time I move to a new place. And then I can’t take it anymore. I need to be inside of her.
I stand and pull her hips toward me as I capture her lips. She guides me inside, her hand slipping over the length of me even as her pussy swallows my head. And then…God, she feels so good! I cry out because I can’t help myself. She wraps her legs around me and I’m in paradise. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Forget football, forget contracts and endorsements. I just want to stand here like this for the rest of my natural life.
But then, as with all good things, our rhythm reaches a crescendo and I bury myself as deep inside of her as I can get, depositing everything my body has to give. And when it’s over and I look down at her, I feel this overwhelming peace come over me, this need to draw her up against me and…I don’t know. It doesn’t really make sense to me. But it’s new and different and I want to enjoy it before my insecurities analyze it too much.
We shower together and then dress long enough to get some breakfast downstairs. The owner of the B&B bakes all day long and there’s pastries and fresh bread and cakes that taste so much better than they have a right to taste. Cricket shares her goodies with me, shoving a piece of banana bread in my mouth before I can protest. In turn, I offer her a piece of cranberry scone and she closes her eyes as the pleasure of the flavors dance over her tongue. Then we’re back upstairs, tangled in one another, never seeming to reach a point where we’ve had enough.
I regret the need to fall asleep that night. I regret the necessity to turn away from her and allow my body to recoup. I know this is the last weekend I’ll have to offer her until the season is over. Four months before we can do something like this again. For the first time in four years, I regret my position in the NFL.
“Call me,” she says against my lips as I drop her at her door.
“Definitely.”
“Where are you next weekend?”
“We’re home the next three weeks. Then Cleveland.”
I can see the disappointment come into her eyes. No excuse for travel for nearly a month.
“Be safe,” she says, touching a finger to my lips.
I’ve never had anyone worry about my welfare before. It’s touching.
“Try not to get too frustrated with your students.”
“Oh, never. Just with Amelia and her inability to control the discussions at drama club. They finally chose a play, though. And, hopefully, they’ll be ready for the first round of competition before the Thanksgiving break.”
“Good.”
I kiss her, holding her tight as I let our lips linger longer than I should. I have a plane I need to be in in less than an hour, but I can’t make myself leave. But she knows.
She slowly extracts herself from my arms and smiles softly before turning the doorknob and disappearing inside her little house. I watch her go, taking the first step to join her. But she closes the door and turns the lock. It’s loud enough that I can hear it, the finality of it smacking me hard.
Time to go.
Fuck! How did I get to this place?
Chapter Eighteen
Cricket
I sit in the center of the auditorium and watch Amelia run rehearsals with the one-act play students. They seem to be getting the gist of the comedic side of the play, but they all seem more interested in flirting with each other than actually working. Not that I can blame them. I’ve found it quite difficult to concentrate myself these last few weeks.
Magnus is coming into town tonight. It’s been nearly two weeks since I last saw him. Twelve days and fifteen hours, to be exact. Not that I’m counting.
Well, actually, I am. We talk on the phone two or three times a day, not counting the endless texting we do. But it’s not the same as actually looking him in the eye when he talks to me. I miss his touch. His kisses. Just two days ago, I was watching television and one of Magnus’ commercials came on and I found myself having all these thoughts that I’d never had before, thoughts of the things I’d like to do when…
“Is this where you’ve been hiding?” My dad slips into the seat beside me, crossing his arms over his chest as he studies Amelia on the stage in front of us.
“Am I hiding?”
“Haven’t seen you in a few days.”
“I was at the house on Sunday.”
“Yeah, well, you usually come by my office in the mornings.”
He’s right. I normally did. But it seems like I was running late more often than not lately. Too many late nights, talking with Magnus on the phone.
Daddy pushes his shoulder into mine. “Some of the kids on my team say that they’ve seen pictures of you with that quarterback. They say you were photographed coming out of some B&B in Denton.”
I incline my head slightly, trying to hide the blush that suddenly blooms on my face. We’d thought we’d escaped the photogs, but there were a few outside the fence at the B&B when we left that Sunday morning. I think it was more humiliating being caught that day than any other time they photographed us. I suppose it was because of what I knew we’d been doing just an hour or so before they took those pictures. I felt like there was some mark on me that would tell the world about our intimacy. There wasn’t. But it still felt that way.
“You’re a grown woman,” my dad says. “And if he makes you happy…”
He trails off like I’m supposed to know what he means. And I suppose I do. But it’s still a little humiliating.
“Just…” He takes my hand, but won’t look at me. “Be careful.” He gets up and walks away. I watch him go, heat building all over my body.
/>
“What was that all about?” Amelia asks as she slips into the seat he just vacated.
“I think my dad just gave me the sex talk.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, that talk where your dad tells you without telling you that you shouldn’t get yourself knocked up? I think we just had that talk.”
Amelia giggles. “I remember when my dad gave me that talk. It was right before I left home to take this job. I wasn’t even seeing anyone at the time.”
“At least your dating life wasn’t splashed all over the internet.”
“True.”
Amelia falls quiet for a long moment, watching the students run around the stage, teasing each other while they’re supposed to be practicing their lines. Then she glances at me.
“So, that guy…”
She doesn’t continue. She just sits there, staring at the stage.
“What guy?” I finally prompt.
“Frank Pierce. Do you remember when he was in your classroom and you introduced us?”
I nod. The day Frank came and convinced me to go out with Magnus. I suppose I owed him some flowers or something for that.
“He called me the other day. Just out of the blue.”
“Really?”
She glances at me. “He wants to take me to dinner.”
I smile. “That’s great, Amelia.”
“Is it? It’s not weird?”
“No, it’s great.”
She smiles, too. “He’s kind of cute.”
