Be Mine

by Jen Frederick

  Chip’s voice rings so clearly in my head, it’s as if he’s in the room with us. I’ll ruin him.

  Every bone in Nick’s body is tense—from the tight grip he has on my hip to the stiffness in his frame. The man needs a little help to relax. I wriggle out of his lap.

  His eyes flick open, giving me a sexy half-lidded look.

  "Finish your drink," I order. "Then I'm giving you a massage, and we're going to watch a movie."

  "You're not here for that," he says flatly. The corners of his mouth turn down in a frown.

  "I'm here until Sunday," I remind him, as I reach down and slip off his shoes. I tuck his socks inside his shoes before starting on his shirt.

  His hand rises to cup my hip, the long fingers of his hand reaching around to press into the swell of my butt. My body throbs in response to his light touch.

  "Shit, baby, you're so fine." His other hand reaches up to sweep away the curtain of my hair that has fallen forward.

  As my fingers work downward on the buttons, I can see that while his mind might be tired, his body isn't too fatigued to respond. An erection juts impressively against the dark wool of his slacks.

  "Massage, movie, rest," I order, and pull his shirt out of his pants.

  He leans forward, ostensibly to help me remove his shirt, but it also conveniently places his face right between my breasts.

  "I'm suddenly feeling worked up about something that has nothing to do with football," he murmurs into the soft skin. His hand moves from my hair to the back of my neck and with steady pressure, he urges my lips to his.

  The kiss is soft and tender, with a firmness that excites me. His tongue sweeps across the seam of my mouth and then invades with gentle force. Heat floods my core. I let go of the shirt to rest my hands against his shoulders, balancing myself against his big body while his hands hold me aloft.

  It'd be easy to sink into this embrace, have sex, and send him on his way in the morning, but tonight I want something different. I want to show him that we can be together, at least for this small amount of time, doing something other than fighting or fucking.

  As I draw away, he grunts his dissatisfaction. "Where're you going?"

  "Massage first," I remind him.

  He frowns adorably. "But how are you going to give me a massage while I’m sitting up. Oh—oh!” Comprehension dawns.

  I wink. “Lie back and let me take care of you. Just for tonight, okay?"

  “Just for tonight,” he concedes.

  He threads his hands through my hair, pulling the strands tight. Tears prick the corners of my eyes from the pain, but I don’t tell him to ease up. Not tonight. I want this. I want to feel everything. The pain, the ecstasy, the anticipation of both. The heavy weight of him on my tongue, the scent of him filling my lungs, the bite of the carpet into my knees; I store all those sensations inside of me so I can pull them out later in the darkness, in my loneliness.

  I make my tongue a bed and glide my lips over the top of his shaft until the blunt head knocks at the back of my throat.

  “Jesus, Lainey, this feels so good. Keep doing that. Take me a little deeper,” he coaxes.

  I open as far as I can and swallow him down. It’s not easy. He’s a big man. I use my fist at his base to cover what my mouth can’t. His hips move against my mouth, thrusting lightly at first, as if to test my reaction.

  Can you take this? His body asks mine.

  Yes. I answer back by leaning into him.

  “Your mouth is so sweet,” he says. “But it’s your big eyes that are killing me. Your eyes tell me everything, baby. How much you want me. How much you love having my cock in your mouth.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t wait until it’s my turn. I’m going to drive you crazy. You need to feel what it’s like to be me at this moment. Totally and completely in your possession.”

  I want this to be our truth forever, but it’s only for tonight. Maybe it won’t be tomorrow, or even next week, but at some point there will be another girl kneeling before him. And she’ll take him into her mouth and her body. She’ll be the one looking up at him with doe eyes wanting nothing more than for him to shoot all of his seed down her throat. She’ll drink it up thinking that now she has him.

  Then he’ll kiss her cheek, pat the top of her ass, and tell her that she was wonderful. He won’t make a promise to call because broken promises aren’t his thing.

  I grab his hip and urge him forward. I want him to mark me, inside and out. I want to feel the pain in my throat when I swallow tomorrow. It’ll be a reminder of his fierce need for me. That I was here and he was with me.

  He drives against me, his hips pistoning faster and harder until I’m filled with him. He explodes in my mouth. His harsh groan echoes in my ears.

  When he pulls away, he’s still hard. An aroused Nick Jackson is a thing of beauty. His chest heaves. A damp sheen of sweat coats his musculature, highlighting all the hard planes. His eyes are dark and needy. The veins in his arms stand prominently under his skin.

  “You drive me nuts,” he says as he leans down to pick me up off the floor. “I’m dizzy with want for you.”

  “I need you, Nick.”

  “Where?” He throws me onto the bed. “Tell me where and I’ll kiss it and make it better.”

  I point to the throbbing area between my legs. “There. Kiss me there.”

  He crawls up my body and settles against my side, one arm propping his head up, the other tracing his finger along the inside of my pants.

  “Nowhere else? You don’t ache here?” He moves his hand up to my breast to pinch one nipple and then the other.

  “Yes, you can kiss me there, too,” I tell him.

  But he’s only begun to torture me.

  “What about this spot?” He presses his index finger against the hollow of my throat at the same time his mouth finds the spot behind my ear that always makes me weak-kneed.

  “If you must,” I joke.

  “I think I need to explore a little, but I’m pretty good at multitasking.” His hand drifts down and tugs my thong to the side.

  As he seals his lips over mine, his mouth swallows my gasp at the same time his nimble fingers slide inside. I writhe under him wanting more than his fingers, his clever tongue. With every touch and kiss and lick and bite, he simultaneously soothes and intensifies the ache.

  His loving is slow and filled with serious intent. His mouth moves over mine with purpose; his fingers stroke me with sure knowledge. I give myself over to him, wallowing in the sensations he’s creating, focusing on the embers he’s fanning into flames.

  His mouth leaves mine to trail down along my neck, the curve of my shoulder, the valley between my breasts. He finds my taut, hurting nipples and sucks them into his mouth. Silently, he calls up my desire. My body sings its response. I cradle his head in my hand. The soft hair of his legs rubs against mine as he moves even lower.

  My orgasm catches me by surprise. It cascades through my veins like a tidal bore traveling upstream toward my center. He murmurs his approval as he scissors his fingers inside, not allowing the sensation to subside but driving it harder and higher. My legs fall apart to make room for his broad shoulders.

  And then his mouth is on my core. His intimate kiss is even more moving. His lips and tongue are worshipful as he drinks from the river of my need until I’m mindless and blind with want.

  “Nick, now,” I tell him, my fingers digging into his head to pull him up. “I need you.”

  He rises in one swift, graceful movement and glides into me without hesitation.

  “This?” He thrusts forward hard. “Is this what you want?”

  “More,” I say.

  His eyes glitter as he braces one hand beside my head and reaches for my hip with his other. “You’re going to have bruises tomorrow.”

  I reach up and swipe away the moisture around his mouth. “Bring it, babe. Make it hurt. Make me remember you.”

  His rough hand bites into my skin as he slams for
ward. When I come again, it’s not just because of the fullness of his cock filling me, or the raw need glowing in his eyes, or even the harsh rasp of his breath as he drags air into his lungs. It’s all of it combined. It’s Nick, my heart, our past—the one he remembers and the one he doesn’t—the child I have that I wish were his. The love I’ll always have for him even though I know it’s not returned.

  In this moment, it is not just my body. It is his. It is me. It is us.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Nick

  I wake up to her mouth covering me.

  “Elaina…” I hiss out her name.

  Her sweet ass is waving in the air as her head bobs slowly up and down. She’s taking her time. The more she can get me to lose my shit, the happier she is. We both know that when her mouth is around my cock, she utterly and completely owns me.

  I’m okay with that. I’m pretty much okay with all of it. With whatever she wants to do with me, whatever she wants from me.

  Does that mean my balls are in her purse? That I’m pussy whipped? I suppose. Because there isn’t a thing in this world I wouldn’t do for Lainey, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with how well she gives head—although that’s world class too.

  I settle my ass deeper into the mattress and lean my head back, but not so far that I can’t see her. Part of the pleasure of getting a blowjob is watching. Watching my cock shuttle in and out of Lainey’s mouth. Watching her lips get puffy and red from use. Watching her ass sway, as she gets hotter and hotter.

  Wet and hot. If I reached over and slid my fingers beneath her legs, she’d be soaked. As much as I want to have her in my mouth, I need to wait my turn because the longer I hold out and the harder I make her work for it, the wetter, hotter, and happier she is.

  Her feather-light touches have turned firmer. She cups my balls, rolling them between her fingers, the tips of her digits pressing into that sensitive area right behind my ball sack.

  Hard to think when a woman’s touching you like that. Hard to breathe. Hard to do anything but close your eyes and sink into that erotic embrace.

  The orgasm I try to hold off tickles at the base of my cock. She’s trying to pull it out of me, one long, sexy drag of her tongue at a time. I’m trying to stave it off. She’s going to win. There’s no way I could ever hold out against her.

  The best I can do is lengthen the moment by exerting a little self-control. Okay, a fuck-ton of self-control.

  It takes my entire lifetime of discipline and training on the field not to wrench myself from her grip, throw her up onto her back, and pound into her like I’m going to die if I don’t get my cock between her legs.

  But I’m only human and when she starts moaning and that hum runs along the spine of my dick, the thin thread holding my orgasm at bay snaps clean through.

  She knows it too. The devilment in her eyes sparkles, along with a heavy dose of lust, as she peers up at me right before taking me down her throat.

  Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

  The rush of release barrels down my spine and out my cock to pour down her luscious throat. My hand drops away from her hair so I don’t accidentally choke her on my cock. At this point, I’m done in. No control left. Not a single ounce.

  Lainey swallows me whole, every drop, leaving me completely wasted.

  “Good morning,” she whispers, “Ready to get up?”

  “No fucking way. We’re not close to done.” I dig my fingers into her hips and drag her over my mouth. She’s needy right now. Her eyes are wide, pupils dilated. Her whole body is flushed from her pretty cheeks to the valley between her breasts. I pull her close, inhaling her scent. “I’d think you know you aren’t leaving until I get my mouth on you.”

  Under my grip, she shudders. “You’re going to have to hurry. The sun’s coming up.”

  “Fuck the sun.”

  “Hurry anyway,” Lainey husks out.

  “It’s my turn to run the show here.” My voice sounds harsh in the quiet hotel room. Lainey shudders in delight. I latch onto her with mouth and tongue and even a tiny bit of teeth because that’s how she likes it. And the hotter she gets, the harder I become. I feel the vibrations spread from her shaking thighs into my core and out to every nerve ending in my entire body.

  The blood pounds in my ears like a hammer as I devour her.

  “Nick. Nick,” she chants. Her body writhes against my mouth. I clamp her down harder so she can’t evade my questing tongue.

  “Nick,” she says sharply and finally, I register that she really wants my attention.

  I loosen my grip and peer at her face, which is no longer taut with arousal but frowning.

  “There’s someone at the door,” she hisses.

  I roll my head to the side and eye the double doors that lead into the suite. I guess the pounding in my ears wasn’t my blood racing but room service.

  “Go away,” I shout.

  “No can do, Rook. We need to talk.”

  “Peters?” I mouth to Lainey.

  She sucks in her lower lip and whimpers.

  My dick is throbbing and Lainey looks terrified. It’s not a good combo. For some reason, Chip’s nastiness really comes out in full display when Lainey’s around. I don’t want her exposed to that shit. “Go away,” I repeat.

  “Can’t do that. Coach has something for you.”

  Lainey brings a fist to her mouth.

  “It’s not even five in the fucking morning.”

  “We have a game to win. I figured you would want to see this, but I guess you’re more interested in yourself than your team.”

  Great. The reporters are already up my ass about this unhappy locker room thing. Frustrated, I haul my unhappy body out of bed and stalk over to the closet, where I find two robes. I shrug one on even though It doesn’t really fit around my shoulders and throw the other one to Lainey.

  She clutches it to her chest and runs to the bathroom while I stomp to the door. I jerk it open. “What is it, Peters?”

  Chip has one hand in his pocket and the other is folded around a DVD case. “Coach wanted me to run some film by you before the game tomorrow.” He peers around the room, taking in the discarded clothes strewn about. “I see you have a guest. You know that’s against the team rules.”

  “The team can fine me.” I hold out my hand but Chip doesn’t hand over the material. I try to close the door, but the man blocks it with his foot.

  “This is a nice room. You don’t like what the team reserved for you? I mean, granted, our rooms don’t come with girls,” he smirks.

  I'm so done here. “Get out. You can tell Coach whatever you want. We both know nothing’s going to happen to me.”

  Chip’s lip curls up. “Only while you’re winning.”

  “Then I'll just have to avoid losing."

  “Good luck with that,” Chip sneers. “Lainey, I know you’re in the bathroom. Come out and share your story with your boyfriend or I will,” he bellows.

  I hear a half-sob and realize that this dude’s problem isn’t with me, it’s with Lainey. A chill settles into the base of my spine as the pieces of Lainey’s past slowly knit together. The day I met Lainey in the parking lot at Stacks, Chip was there. Lainey hates football players. Cass has a deadbeat dad. Chip thinks Lainey is a low-class tramp who tried to trap him for money. Now that he’s no longer on the field, he’s miserable and wants everyone else to be miserable.

  Not on my watch. “When the season is over, I’ll see your ass out the door.” I slam the door shut.

  “This doesn’t end here,” he says from the other side.

  I don’t bother answering. Instead, I head for the bathroom and throw open the door. “Want to tell me about what’s going on?” I demand.

  Lainey’s sitting on the toilet. Her shoulders are hunched as she cradles her knees close to her chest. She looks vulnerable and scared and alone.

  “Chip and I grew up in the same town,” she says, her eyes pinned to her feet. “Our moms are friends. When I w
as sixteen, Chip Peters signed with Detroit and the whole town celebrated. He came back one night and I ended up at a party with him. He…I was not a popular girl. He paid attention to me and I thought that made me special. When he asked me to do things…no matter how sick they seemed, I went along with it because I was afraid that if I didn’t, he’d stop liking me. So when he shared me with his friends or took pictures of me, I…didn’t protest. At least not hard enough.”

  “You were so young.” I’m torn between wanting to comfort her and chasing after Peters to beat the shit out of him.

  “And stupid. Don’t forget stupid.” She lowers her feet to the floor and sweeps a hand through her hair, still avoiding looking in my direction.

  “He took advantage of you.” It’s clear as day to me.

  “No, I wanted it. Or at least I wanted the intimacy. The feeling that I was someone important to him.”

  She doesn’t want to be the victim, which I understand, but she is. An older guy abused her and now is still holding it over her head.

  “Is he Cass’s father?”

  “Yes. Two years ago, he paid me to leave Dallas because he didn’t like looking at his mistakes and now…” She trails off.

  Sitting on the hotel toilet with only the robe, she looks as innocent as Cass. It hits me that Lainey, a mother of a five-year-old, is only twenty-two years old. She’s a baby herself. I approach her cautiously, like you would a wounded animal, and crouch down by her feet.

  “It might be hard for you to believe, but none of this matters to me. I wasn’t a saint growing up and you don’t hold that against me. Your past is your past. What’s important is that you want a future with me. If that’s what you want, put your hand in mine. If you don’t want it, I’ll walk away.” It kills me to say this, but I can’t take away her choices. It would make me no better than Peters.

  She doesn’t speak. There’s no sound in the room but the faint drone of the air conditioner. My calves become numb from squatting. Goosebumps pimple her skin. My outstretched hand feels like it weighs two tons. And still the silence grows.