by Desiree Holt
“You know.” She hitched her hips upward, but that just brought her into greater contact with his mouth.
“If you don’t tell me, I won’t know what you want.”
She wet her lips. “I want to touch you there.”
“Uh-huh. And exactly where is that? You have to tell me, sugar, or I won’t know.”
Damn!
“I want to touch your, uh, your cock.”
His low laugh rumbled through both of them. “There you go. Now I can grant your wish.”
He pulled himself up until he was lying next to her, his shaft rising proud and thick from his body.
Erin licked her lips at the sight of it and slowly wrapped her fingers. It was hot and hard in her hand, a welcoming thickness. She stroked it slowly up and down, feeling it swell under her touch. With each movement of her hand his cock became even more engorged, a tiny bead of fluid slipping out to sit right on the slit on the velvety head. With a gentle swipe of her tongue, she scooped it up and swallowed it, licking her lips at the taste.
Slipping one hand between his thighs, she cupped the sac with his balls, caressing and stroking, drawing a series of low moans from him. When she bent and slipped her mouth over him, his entire body tautened.
“Oh, Jesus. That’s so damn fucking good.”
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed against him as she worked him with her fingers and her mouth.
Abruptly he lifted her head from his body and moved her to the side. She looked at him, wide-eyed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Not a damn thing except you stretch my control past the brink. I can’t wait any more. I have to have you. Right now.”
Before she could stop and figure what he was doing, he had turned her over and arranged her on her hands and knees, bracing pillows beneath her. He trailed kisses over both cheeks of her ass, then drew little lines with his tongue while his fingers teased her clit. Again he abruptly moved away from her.
“Are you trying to drive me crazy?” she asked.
“Uh-huh.” His chuckle was low and erotic. “Hold on.”
She heard the drawer in his nightstand open and close, then he was back behind her, stroking her buttocks and sliding his fingers through the hot crevice. She was so hot for him she was sure she’d climax by herself if he didn’t hurry. Then she felt something cool at her anus, cool and creamy. Lube. She shivered at the thought of what he was about to do.
He stopped for a moment. “You okay with this?”
“Yes, I am. But please hurry.”
“Your wish is my command.”
He slipped a well-coated finger into her tight passage, working the lube into her hot tissues. Then he added another finger, scissoring them to stretch her even more. And finally a third. All the time the walls of her pussy contracted and pulsed and her cream flooded her tissues.
The pressure of his cock against her opening almost triggered her release right then and there.
“Breathe,” he told her. “In and out. Easy does it. I’ll take it real slow.”
That was exactly what he did, pressing very slowly into her tight channel, pulling back a little, then thrusting forward again. In and out, backward and forward, steadily moving in deeper until he was fully seated inside her.
Oh, God!
“Ready, babe?” Jake’s voice was raw.
“Yes. Now.”
The ride was beyond anything. Heat raced through her body as he surged into her again and again, over and over until she couldn’t hold on much longer.
Then they exploded, held in the powerful grip of an orgasm unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Their bodies shook together, spasms rocketing through both of them as if they were one person. Over and over, until she splintered into a million pieces, taking him with her.
Long after—she had no idea how long—he eased himself from her body, laced soft kisses on her buttock, and climbed slowly from the bed.
“Be right back,” he told her.
When he returned, she realized it was his turn to tend to her, with a warm cloth that eased her pussy and her ass. When he was satisfied, he dropped it on the carpet, turned her over, and pulled her into his arms.
“Mine,” he said, stroking her hair. “All mine.”
The words sent an unaccustomed warmth through her and settled the last of her nerves.
“All yours,” she agreed.
“I love you, Erin, and I want you. I’ve never said that to another woman.”
She snuggled against him. “I will always be here for you.”
“But more than that I need you, to ground me and to help me realize my value.”
“And I need you, too. You’re very valuable to me,” she told him. “And you always will be. I love you, too, Jake Russell.”
“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.”
“Good, because I’m going to be saying it for a lot of years to come.”
Epilogue
It was a typical night in central Texas, the air just a little brisk, the stars like crystal in a black velvet sky. Every seat in the stands at Granite Falls High School was filled, and the sidelines were jammed with people with VIP tags hanging around their necks. The local San Antonio television channels had sent reporters and cameramen to cover this as did the major networks. Jake Russell was a big name in football, more so because the story of his injury and subsequent retirement had fed the media all week since the announcement was made.
Jake stood on the sidelines with Joe Reilly and Coach Fenelli, Erin close to his side. Joe had done the majority of the interview earlier in the high school, his cameraman capturing footage of the trophies in the showcases and the banners on the walls. Joe had talked to Fenelli and some of the other players from that team who were here for the big night. They, too, had VIP passes and were excited for this event.
Big night.
Jake grinned to himself. Tonight the Coyotes were retiring his number, and apparently, even though he was now out of the game, it was still a big deal to everyone. He looked around at all the people who were here to meet him, and Erin’s words, her mantra that she repeated daily, flooded his brain.
“You are so important to these people,” she’d told him over and over. “Jake Russell, the person. That’s who they want to know and who they admire.”
He was even beginning to believe it, although it had been a long hard row to hoe.
The week had been productive in many other ways. He told Erin he wanted to put the money he’d earned to work doing something important, and she’d been on board with that. They kicked around a lot of ideas and came up with two. One was to set up a permanent trust for Good Shepard House and the other was to set up a foundation that would entertain grants for shelters and programs for abused women and children. Erin was going to be the foundation director and Jake would spend a lot of his time lecturing on the subject of domestic violence and helping communities form groups and programs to deal with it.
“Mom would have loved this,” Ivy told him. “I’m so proud of you.”
Ivy had taken on the pro bono job of developing a public relations plan for the foundation, which would be named for their mother, and she was already tossing ideas at him.
Everything had been taken care of except the one thing that to him was the most important. Tonight he planned to take care of that.
Now they were waiting for everything to begin. Jake had requested they have the ceremony before the game in order to not take anything away from the players at halftime. Everyone had agreed, and now he was just waiting for the signal to start. The players, the fans, everyone else was excited about the ceremony. Jake was, too, but he had something else planned, something that was even more important to him. He slid his hand into his jacket pocket to make sure what he needed was still there.
Okay. Good to go.
Now they needed the band to stop playing. But when they did, they did not march off the field the way they usually
did. They played the Granite Falls fight song, and when they finished their marching formation, he saw that on the field they spelled out Jake and his high school number, thirty-one.
“Ohmigod, Jake.” Erin was jumping up and down. “I hope Ivy is getting all this on camera because I’m too excited to take pictures.”
Holy shit!
Joe nudged his arm. “We’re ready.” He had his own camera crew standing by.
Jake walked out to midfield with Coach Fenelli, Principal Andrew Reinsdorf, and the team co-captains.
Reinsdorf took the mic.
“Good evening,” he boomed.
“Good evening,” everyone shouted back.
“You all know why we’re here today, to honor one of the finest young men ever to come out of Granite Falls High School. Jake Russell!”
The crowd chanted, “Jake! Jake! Jake!”
He could see Erin beaming on the sidelines.
“I’m going to turn the microphone over to Coach Fenelli, since he is far more acquainted with Jake than I am. Coach?”
Fenelli stepped up and took the mic. “When Jake Russell moved to Granite Falls with his mother and sister, I saw a young man who desperately needed goals in life and a place to belong. He found it in football, in the discipline required to excel. And excel he did, in academics and in football, here as well as in college and finally in the NFL, where he set the standard for behavior very high. He continues to make us proud.”
He spoke of Jake’s injury, his forced retirement, and finally the establishment of the Valerie Russell Foundation.
“He is an icon that I hope every young man who passes through these walls will strive to copy. It gives me great pleasure to retire with honor jersey number thirty-one.” He held out his hand and Reinsdorf handed him the box he’d been holding. Fenelli took out the jersey and held it up for everyone to see, turning so both sides of the stadium got a view. “Let’s hear it for Jake Russell.”
Again there were thunderous chants of, “Jake! Jake! Jake!”
Fenelli held out the mic to Jake who stepped forward and took it from him. He held up his hand for silence.
“I will never be able to thank the town of Granite Falls and Coach Fenelli in particular for giving me the opportunity for the life I now have, and for the way it embraced me, my mother, and my sister. You helped us in more ways than you will ever know and as a small thank you, the Valerie Russell Foundation is setting up a permanent trust for athletic scholarships for deserving graduating seniors.”
The noise now was thunderous, as in addition to shouting his name the crowd stomped in rhythm on the bleachers. Finally he held up his hand again.
“I have one more thing that’s not exactly on the agenda, but it’s special to me and I want to share it with a very special community. I’d like you to meet Erin Bass, an extraordinary woman who saved me from despair and helped me get my life back on track. Erin, will you come out here, honey?”
He could see, even at this distance, she was blushing furiously, but unwilling to embarrass him, she walked slowly out to center field. He saw Joe motion to his cameraman who moved into position. Apparently this was also going to end up on Fox Sports.
“I’m going to kill you,” she mouthed to him, but she pasted on a big grin.
“My sister, Ivy, who knew how pigheaded I was, concocted a scheme that threw Erin and me together, and for that I will always be grateful.”
“I won’t let you forget that,” Ivy yelled from the sidelines.
Shifting the mic to his left hand, he reached into his pocket, flipped open the little box, and took out its contents. Then he went down on one knee and held out the ring that he’d managed to sneak away to buy.
“Erin Bass, you are the sunshine of my life, the beat of my heart, and the woman who helps me make it through each day. I love you more than life itself. Will you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”
She was grinning broadly even as fat tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Yes, yes, Jake Russell, I will marry you.”
He slipped the ring on her finger, handed off the mic, and pulled her into his arms for a kiss.
Fenelli took the mic back.
“Well, I’d say the center has snapped the ball and it’s time to cross the line of scrimmage. I know you all join me in wishing Jake and Erin the very best life has to offer. And now I think it’s time to play some football!”
Meet the Author
Referred to by USA Today as the Nora Roberts of erotic romance, Desiree Holt is the world’s oldest living published erotic romance author. A graduate of the University of Michigan with double majors in English and History, her earlier careers include agent and manager in the music industry, public television, associate vice president of university advancement, public relations, and economic development. She is three times a finalist for an EPIC E-Book Award (and a winner in 2014), a nominee for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award, winner of the first 5 Heart Sweetheart of the Year Award at The Romance Studio, as well as twice a CAPA Award winner for best BDSM book of the year, and winner of the Holt Medallion for Excellence in Romance Literature.
She has been featured on CBS Sunday Morning and in The Village Voice, The Daily Beast, USA Today, The (London) Daily Mail, The New Delhi Times, The Huffington Post and numerous other national and international publications. She is also the Authors After Dark 2014 Author of the Year. Readers can visit her at www.desiremeonly.com.
In case you missed it, keep reading for a sample of the first book in the Game On series
by Desiree Holt:
FORWARD PASS
Get Ready to Play Rough
Shay Beckham grew up idolizing her brother’s best friend, star quarterback Joe Reilly. There was no one in their Texas town who had the moves to match Joe on or off the field. Years later, he’s still a player who has what it takes to drive any hot-blooded woman wild. But Shay isn’t a kid with a bad case of hero-worship anymore. She’s grown-up and independent, with her feet on the ground and a serious head on her shoulders. If she could just say the same for Joe.
It’s been fifteen years, but Joe Reilly hasn’t forgotten the skinny little kid who used to follow him around like a shadow. What he can’t get over is that the skinny shadow has grown into one hell of an incredible woman. One any man in his right mind would kill to get his hands on. And one who seems to be completely immune to him. He knows he and Shay could have something special together. If he could only convince her he’s about more than just the game.
A Lyrical e-book on sale now.
Learn more about Desiree at
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31606
Chapter 1
“Damn it, Hank. Why don’t you answer?”
Shay Beckham pressed End on her cell phone yet again and sighed. She and her brother had been playing telephone tag for two days. When he called, she was in meetings. When she called, he was out of signal range. The only voices talking to each other were their voice mails. How godforsaken could it be in Wyoming, anyway? It was still in the United States, right?
And why was he trying so hard to reach her? They exchanged texts now and then, but they were both so busy they only called each other in case of emergency. The places he went, cell reception was spotty at best and talking to him was like playing leapfrog. Wait! Was he okay? Her heart stopped for a moment at the thought he might be hurt, but then she relaxed. If something had happened to him, his boss would have reached out to her. So what was on his mind that had generated this flurry of aborted phone calls? Obviously, he wanted something because he was the one who’d initiated this current game of phone tag.
She leaned back in the taxi as it turned from the airport access road onto the interstate. Less than half an hour and she’d be home, thank God, and she could get out of her sweatshirt and jeans that wore the remnants of her diet cola from the plane.
With the way her luck was running, maybe she shouldn’t
have accepted her complimentary beverage. On the flight out to New York a week before, a little turbulence had been responsible for her arriving with a huge coffee stain on her favorite yellow sweater. Maybe she should carry a bib with her. Or a large tarpaulin.
On today’s flight, she had just set up her iPad and lifted her glass gingerly to take a sip when the plane hit an air pocket and everything bounced. Her iPad. The purse beneath the seat. Worst of all, her drink. Her hand flew up, with it her diet soda and, most importantly, the ice cubes. Up in the air. Over the back of her seat. Into the seat behind her.
She could still hear the man behind her growling. “Shit!”
Then, “Damn it anyway.”
She’d used the miniscule courtesy napkin to blot up what she could from her sweatshirt and jeans. Shay had cringed as the man behind her continued to mutter under his breath.
“Hey, you in front. Didn’t you ever learn to pay attention on a plane? You got your damn drink all over me.”
He hadn’t seemed impressed with her mumbled apology so she’d just slid down even farther and buried her nose in her iPad again. And been damn glad to get to the end of the flight without further incident. When it was time to deplane, she’d avoided even looking back at the man, hustling up the Jetway into the terminal as fast as she could. Getting home was all she could think of.
Sighing, she brushed a few wisps of hair away from her cheeks and tugged on the brim of her red ball cap. A lean cougar prowled across the red background, a new graphic she’d created for Dazzling Designs. The company she worked for produced merchandise for college and professional sports teams. This prototype had been waiting for her when she flew in for four days at the main office and she’d decided to wear it on her trip home.
She was worn out from the long, intense days of discussions and brainstorming. This was her third round trip to New York since she’d made the move back to Texas. After five months, she was piling up plenty of frequent-flyer miles, which she hoped to use one of these days.
