by Teagan Kade
She breathes out. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll do anything.” I sound like Charleston when I had him on the pole—pathetic. But it works. Lucy’s smile brightens. Her body relaxes and moves slightly, imperceptibly closer. “Anything, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, but I have rules.”
“Shoot.”
“One, we have to keep this quiet. Dad cannot find out.”
“Agreed.”
“Two, I’m new to this, so you have to go slow.”
“Of course.”
I’d agree to anything. Deep down in the darkest hollow of my soul I know that is not a good thing no matter how promising this relationship seems right now.
Those eyes, those legs wrapped around me.
“Three, no more walls. We’re completely open and honest with each other.”
I nod. “Easy.”
The alarm on her cell goes. “Look, I’m late for my next class, but I’ll meet you in the tree line behind the granny flat tonight. Eight?”
“Make it ten. Coach hits that Irish bar in town on Thursdays. Won’t be back until the sun rises.”
She lifts herself up onto her toes and kisses me with those plump lips, her floral scent intoxicating, her tongue teasing more.
She breaks away, her lips closing, her face alive, beautiful. “I, ah, I’ll see you later.”
I watch her go, watch the way the cutest ass in the world taunts me with every step.
Lucy Middleton, what are you doing to me?
*
I meet her in the tree line just behind the granny flat. She’s in jeans and a white V-neck sweater. There are no stripper heels or cameltoe-tight LBD. She’s just Lucy, and I love that. I need that simplicity in my life.
Simplicity? Who you kiddin’, Compton.
I wasn’t kidding. She is all I’ve been thinking about, consuming every waking moment. I could barely focus on the game, miraculously getting through the stats exam but just wanting it to end and this moment right here to arrive.
We stand. I want to take her in my arms, kiss her, but it seems awkward again. Instead we face each other. We both speak at the same time, and then again. “You first,” I offer.
“You’re late.”
I scratch my arm. “Coach held me up in training.”
“I thought you said he was going to the bar?”
“He will. Goes straight from training. Shall we go inside?”
Lucy smiles, her whole face lighting up below me even in the darkness. “Definitely.”
The only problem with the granny flat is that you have to go down the side of Coach’s house to get there. We both know he’s out, but still we crouch, giggling like teenagers as I close the door behind us, and then, finally, we are alone.
We’re both breathing hard even though we’ve barely run a hundred yards.
“I don’t know what to do,” she says.
We both crack up, the ice suddenly broken by the absurdity of the situation.
She places her hands on my chest. “How’s that?”
“Good. Nice.”
She shifts her hands down to my hips, my cock already iron hard. “Now?”
“Better.”
Her lips are parted, her strawberry breath intoxicating in the extreme. Control yourself, big boy.
I take her face in my hands, her perfect ivory skin so at odds with my own, marked and covered in ink, a tapestry of depression. “I like you, Lucy. It seems you like me. It’s simple, right?”
She breathes in. “I wasn’t kidding. I’m new to this.”
“What?” I laugh. “You’ve never been with a guy?”
“Matter of fact…”
“Oh, Jesus, I didn’t mean it like that.”
She smiles and I’ve never been more relieved in my life. “I know, but this is all so foreign to me.”
“You seemed to know what you were doing in the library.”
She runs a finger down my chest. “I take it you’re not a virgin.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“I mean, that’s fine. I guess it’s good that you’re experienced.”
I place my finger on her top lip, so soft. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you and me, now, right in this moment.”
She takes the hem of my jersey and lifts it up over my head, fingers brushing the hard mounds of my abs, her eyes constantly moving over my skin.
I remove her sweater in turn, her shirt. She reaches behind herself and pops the clip on her bra.
Before she removes it, I stop her. “Are you sure?”
“Of what?”
“Are you sure you want to do this, be with a guy like me for your first?”
“A guy ‘like you?’ Okay, so it’s not what I pictured when I was reading Seventeen, but yes, I want to be with you, not what the world thinks when they see you. There’s more to Nate Compton than tattoos and a tight ass.”
She pinches my butt as she says it, her bra dropping away between us and her breasts exactly as I remember—full and perky, cherry cigar stubs stiff with arousal.
I can’t hold out any more. I take my hands to her face and kiss her long and deep, my tongue pressing between her lips and her mouth, taking it eagerly, her own warming in response.
She sucks in air through her teeth as I work my way down her neck, her hands fumbling with my belt and zipper. She peels my pants down and I do likewise, pulling her jeans and panties down as one, the scent of her arousal overpowering, my cock twitching.
“Nate.” It’s a whisper into the air, an invitation.
My cock springs free. She takes it in her hand, breathing labored as I press it against her leg, her fingers ringing the root of it awkwardly, but her inexperience only making the whole thing insanely hot.
“You’re so big,” she whispers, her lips at my ear. “It’s warm.”
She’s so fucking cute it’s unbelievable, her nipples pressing into my chest, her thighs opening enough to allow my hand access.
I exhale with a halted punctuation of air as my fingers run over her mound. I press them into her folds and feel her wetness, her arousal hot and sticky.
She moans and I can feel her heart tapping away between us, the way she grinds down against my hand, hers eagerly jerking off my cock.
“Does that feel good?” she queries, genuinely curious.
I’m struggling to hold myself back. “Amazing.”
With her free hand she lifts mine harder between her thighs, my forefinger finding her clit enflamed with need.
She’s breathing so hard I’m worried she’s going to hyperventilate.
“I want you inside me,” she says, desperate.
“Okay,” I reply, my whole being wanting nothing more, happy if I was to live my whole life broke only to have possession of this memory.
Light swings through the windows. Lucy lets go of my member like she’s holding a cobra. “What was that?”
I hop to the window and look out. Fuck. It’s Coach’s car. “I thought he’d go straight there.”
Lucy clutches herself, one arm across her chest, the other over her sex. She cowers into the back of me. “He won’t come in here, right? We’re okay, aren’t we?”
I watch as he steps out of the car. Please, please. He never comes down here, but tonight, of all nights, he starts to make a beeline for the granny flat.
Lucy sees the alarm in my eyes. “What is it?”
“Quick, hide behind the door.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
She stands behind the front door. I barely have time to cover myself before it opens, Coach not seeming to notice, or care, that I’m naked as he stands at the door.
“I was just about to take a shower,” I stall, very conscious of Lucy wedged tight behind the door. I can smell her, the earthy pull of her pussy. Please, please, please.
“Won’t take long. Just thought I’d come by and see if you had anything to do with that Charleston business.
”
“Sorry?”
Coach smiles. “Just saw the pic. Not his most flattering, and frankly, I don’t give a damn, but just for curiosity…”
I cannot think.
“You going to invite me in or stand there looking like a stunned mullet?”
No, don’t do it. “Ah, yeah, come in.”
Lucy is mouthing the same as I swing the door wide to cover her, the Coach stepping in. I just manage to sweep her panties and bra up, throwing them over the back of the couch.
I pull my pants on while Coach is looking around, frantically trying to rearrange my erection so I don’t look like a penis Pinocchio.
He turns. “I know you boys are messy, Compton, but come on. This is an apartment, not a dumping ground.”
I’ve got to get him out of here. “You said something about Charleston?”
“You going to leave that door open? It’s cold as a witch’s tit out there. Can’t have my number one player on the bench, can I?
Are you serious? There’s no way out of this now. It’s done.
My hand reaches the knob just as he stands.
“Drink, Compton? I keep a little stash of scotch back here.”
Anything to get him away. “Great.”
I close the door and guide Lucy behind the sofa as soon as he turns to head into the kitchen. “Stay there.”
He returns at lightning speed with two tumblers and a label-less bottle of amber fluid.
He sits himself on the sofa, Lucy right behind him. Only a few inches of fabric and wood separate them.
Coach hands a glass over and takes a swig of his own, downing at least half of it in one hit. “Ahhh, God’s own. So, Charleston. It was you, wasn’t it, off the record?”
I haven’t sweated this much since my last foster parent almost caught me with a cum-filled tube sock swinging off my cock.
Coach laughs and tilts the tumbler back, the Scotch gone. He watches the glass. “You don’t have to say it. I know it was you. Off the record, bravo. ’Bout time someone showed that little bitch who’s boss. Lord knows he never listens to me.”
“There were mitigating circumstances.”
“I’m sure there were, but fine work all the same.”
“Thanks. Look, I’m a little tired. Mind if I hit the hay?”
He gets the hint—thank fuck—and stands. “Of course, of course. You need your beauty sleep. I’ll leave you to it.”
I see him out, letting free the longest exhale of my life when the door is firmly closed.
Lucy emerges from behind the sofa in her bra and panties. “That was close. If Dad found out…”
“He’d kill us both, I’m sure.”
“I don’t think I can do it here, not with Coach Smith ready to barge in at any time.”
I hits me. “Don’t worry. I know exactly where we can go.”
CHAPTER NINE
LUCY
The training court is empty this time of night, just the moonlight filtering through the windows above us providing any kind of illumination. I didn’t think it was possible, but Nate looks even hotter under it, in his element.
He walks over to the ball rack and selects one, firing it into the air. It kisses the net without even touching the sides of the ring.
“How do you do that?”
“Practice.”
We’re both fully clothed again. “Will you show me?”
“Sure.”
He comes up behind me and places the ball in my hands, his own over the top. He presses into my back and I feel his hardness there, the heat and length of him.
He moves my hand. “You hold it where the seam meets. Yes, there.” He starts to lift my hands up with the ball. “You hold it just above your head, one hand to project, the other to guide. Look at the ring, aim.”
I try to focus, but I’m distracted by this inked Adonis wrapping my body.
He draws the ball back and kicks my legs apart slightly. I gasp.
“Squat, just a little, and throw the ball, send it right on home.”
I push up with my arm and the balls goes sailing. For a second I think it’s actually going to go in, but it ricochets off the edge of the hoop, bouncing away into the shadows.
Nate spins me around until we’re chest to chest. I bring my eyes to his.
He smiles, fingers interweaving with my own. “Not bad for a first time.”
I reach down and press my hand into his crotch. “I hear practice makes perfect.”
And it’s on.
Our mouths cleave together, hands and limbs akimbo, our clothes shed to the polished boards below. There’s a stack of crash mats on the side of the court. Nate drives us hard into them, his hands constantly moving over my naked skin, the heat building, suffocating in this space and the sounds of our arousal echoing into the ceiling.
The stack of mats starts to give behind me until they topple like dominoes. We go with them until I’m horizontal on my back, Nate on top of me, eyes glinting in the moonlight.
I can smell the hot damp between my legs. My breasts glow alabaster, pinpointed goosebumps running down my arms, my nipples standing erect against the granite of his chest.
We stop kissing even as fingers gently stroke down my bare arm. Finally, he breaks and works his way down my neck, my lips parting in a soft pant.
It’s warm in here, the hot press of Nate’s body causing thin rivulets of sweat to run down the valley between my breasts, and all I want is him, right now, inside me. I cannot ignore the growing wetness between my legs any longer.
His fingers settle on my clit, circling and stroking and then shifting downstream to dart quickly inside me. There’s a wash of heat up the insides of my thighs. I quiver, my panting coming with increasing urgency.
He pulls my nipples into his mouth until they’re hard, defined points. My clit grows likewise under his fingers. They slip inside me until they come against my obstruction and I crest higher, legs twitching in anticipation. It’s happening. It’s finally happening.
I reach between us and find his cock. I hold him around the root and rock my hand back and forth, pausing to find his balls below heavy. His breath quickens, expelled in wheezy gasps against my breast.
I’m an oil slick below, his fingers parting my folds, running in soft figures-of-eight around my clit until I’m bucking off the mat to meet them, the vinyl sticking to my ass and everything a heated blur.
“Please,” I whisper to his bicep. “I want you inside me.”
But he teases, sliding down my body and burying his face between my thighs. He doesn’t take his time here, doesn’t draw it out, but licks me hard and fierce, my body stiffening and slit splaying wide in preparation against his tongue.
I beg for his cock, need it more than anything. He laps at my clit, separating me with his fingers and his groaning muffled by the slick face of my pussy.
I hold his head with my hands, grind against his face, breathing irregular and rapid. I’m soaring fast to climax, but I want more. I push him away, his eyes steely and lips wet. He reaches to his discarded jeans and pulls a foil wrapper from the pocket, tearing it with his teeth and sheathing himself before me.
“Are you sure?” he says, sliding back down onto my body, my breasts flattened against his pecs.
I’m panting so hard I can’t speak. I nod and he understands.
He reaches down and separates my creamy thighs with his hand before using it to guide the blunt head of his cock into my folds. He lets it rest there against the slack ring of my opening, lets me get used to his size.
He holds my face in his hands and kisses me, the taste of my own arousal on his lips and the distraction welcome as he thrusts forward hard, my innocence lost in a fleeting flash of pain, the shaft of him gliding deep into my hungry core.
I turn away, hands clutching at the vinyl and my mouth caught open.
The more he moves, the better it feels, more and more of his cock driving inside me until I’m sure I’ve taken the entire thing, the flat p
lane of his pelvis hard against my pulsing clit, the wiry hairs around his root matted to the puffy lips of my pussy.
I fight for oxygen as he moves, bring one hand up to claw at his shoulder, my head nuzzled into the crook of his neck and his rhythm building until he’s shifting us up the mat with every thrust.
I lift my legs and he runs deeper, every inch of me on fire, new and alien sensations running up and down my spine. I milk him with my muscles until his hisses, burying himself in my body shallow and fast.
I’m rising, our bodies colliding wetly together in the semi-darkness, his hips pounding into me, and it feels so good, so damn good I know I’ve been a fool for waiting this long.
“Please.” It runs from my lips and I cannot tell whether it is a cry for help or forgiveness. “I’m going to-”
I clutch his sides tight, crushed below him as I come, my orgasm soul-shattering, a blood-rushing wave of emotion and sensation that sees me convulse and clench around him. His own climax follows. He stiffens and jerks, rocking us together, gasping and panting, a second orgasm rolling over the first and flickering light seeping in from the sides of my vision.
His body slackens on top of me, my sex birthing his cock out where it sits wet and heavy against my thigh. I continue to twitch and pulse inside, the final embers of my release stirring.
Soon all I’m aware of is his halted breathing against the side of my neck matching my own, the blanket of sweat that grows cold over our bodies.
It occurs to me I’m no longer a virgin. All those nights dreaming about this moment with a shaky hand between my legs, so taboo and forbidden, but I never thought in those halcyon teenage days it would be a guy like Nate. It’s a surprise—a welcome one.
This time there is no doubt, no sudden shock of realization. All I feel is peace and fulfillment, a happiness unlike any I have known before.
He lifts himself from me. I’m surprised to see his erection has barely waned.
I sit up on my elbows. “I thought guys got soft afterwards.”
He runs a hand over the swell of my breast, kneads it with his palm. The need returns. “I’m not your regular guy.”
“What now?” I ask, playing with the lick of hair falling over his eye.
