Game For Love: Gridiron Heartbreaker (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Gridiron Bad Boys Book 2)

by Melissa Blue

  Well, first she finished her drink to brace herself for the pain then she undid the laces and struggled out of the socks. Her feet look wrinkled, and lines from the fabric had etched themselves into her skin. After a quick inspection, no blisters would form.

  She straightened and realized Blaine had watched her, probably the entire time, which meant he'd heard her relieved groan.

  “What?” she asked, with all the attitude she could scrounge up as her face flushed.

  “Give me your feet.”

  She expected a joke, but his expression was serious. “What? Why?”

  “I'm not going to put your arches into my crotch and have my way with them, if that's your worry.”

  A laugh burst out. The thought hadn't occurred to her. “I will keep an eye on my socks to make sure they don't disappear into your pockets.”

  It wasn't a full smile, but a dimple peeked out. God, he was too handsome, and in her house. They had a moment's worth of a connection and she'd lost her mind. But her feet ached and there was no point in lying to herself—she wanted him to touch her.

  No. She simply wanted to be touched again. She'd been so focused on rebuilding her life the past few months, she hadn't let anything else sink in. Sleepless nights weren't filled with counting sheep but to-do lists to achieve her goal of moving on. Really this time, she'd move the hell on.

  Alyssa pointed her finger at him to emphasize her next words. “One dry hump and you're out of the door.” She placed her feet across his lap.

  He chuckled. “Promise I will keep all foot-gyrating to myself.” He glanced down and closed his hand on the top of her foot.

  Her breath hitched. He gentled the touch and turned his focus back to the TV. She had no idea what they were talking about on the sports channel. That was okay. He was gliding his fingers down her arch and finding magical spots of pleasure.

  “You okay?” he asked and she could hear the laughter in his voice.

  “Fine. Fine.” Can I have your babies? “A little to the left...” All your babies? “Thanks. That...feels nice.”

  She bit her lip and tried not to moan. Didn't work and his hand stilled. A second later, he turned down the TV and went back to work. His fingertips pressed into her heel and dragged up until he was tugging gently on her toes. Without the voices on the TV to drown out her heavy sighs, the simple foot rub sounded so damn erotic.

  Alyssa knew the way her clit swelled, the sudden dampness in her panties were all a natural response—he was touching her in an arousing, comforting way. Didn't stop her cheeks from heating or avoiding his gaze every time he glanced at her after a sigh. But the massage felt so good as he switched to the other foot and worked his magic. How could she tell him to stop?

  “Where'd you learn to do this?” Her voice was barely a husky whisper.

  “It's in the manual.” Another quirk of his lips.

  “Manual?”

  “Every boy gets one at sixteen. It's a step-by-step plan of seduction. You know you've succeeded if your hand is under her shirt.”

  He pressed his knuckle into a spot that made her bite the inside of her lip. Her gaze flicked to his and the smile was gone as he watched her face. He was turning her into putty in his hands.

  Get it together.

  She said, “I shouldn't be remotely amused by you.”

  “But you are.”

  She wanted to argue but his thumb skimmed up and she gasped. “You're not getting under my shirt.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said in a knowing tone.

  He pressed something that shot straight to her pussy, making it clench. She jerked her foot to the side so she could breathe. Unfortunately, that slight movement brought her arch right against his cock.

  His hard cock.

  Measuring the length with her foot probably wasn't too reliable, but the intensity of his erection couldn't be faked. He was hard as steel, likely from her moans alone. He'd turned down the TV to hear every single one, and she hadn't disappointed him. Knowing that, having proof of it, made her panties feel two-sizes too small and much more damp.

  With what seemed to be great patience, he moved her foot lower on his lap. “How about you get me another glass before I head home.”

  Once again she was struck with why was he there. She knew her yearning for company, and he made her laugh. He wasn't at all pushy. Why did he decide to come into her condo? A football star had decided to take a regular Jane home. What was it about her that interested a man like him?

  She had to ask, “What do you want from me?”

  “Right now? A drink.”

  Sounded like the truth. “After?”

  He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Whatever you want from me.”

  “Because you're bored,” she said.

  “Because now I know what you sound like when you moan.”

  Her breath whooshed out in a surprised rush. This wasn't seduction, but blatant, unapologetic truth. The only promise he'd ever made was that after him, her heart wouldn't ache.

  She wouldn't have to force herself to think of to-do lists at night. She wouldn't have to think about the wedding bouquet she'd never hold. The dress that was perfect. The man who hadn't been. No, the man who hadn't been right for 'til death do us part.

  All those thoughts wanted to spill out as words but they got caught in her throat. “Blaine, I'm...”

  What was she? Scared. Horny, definitely. None of that mattered because she was stuck. Too scared to go forward and her past too heavy to let her leave it behind.

  She settled on, “Let me get you another drink.”

  Once again she was in her kitchen, trying to grasp hold to...she didn't know. Reason? She didn't sleep with men she'd recently met. She definitely didn't get naked in front of football players who probably had gone through women like Kleenex.

  Alyssa dumped the melting ice into the sink then threw in more from the freezer. She didn't invite men she'd just met into her home either. She took out the whiskey and filled it half-way. Alyssa also didn't let men she met five minutes ago rub her feet either. At that truth, she glanced at the bottle in her hand then knocked back at least a shot's worth of whiskey.

  Her cells felt like they were rioting beneath her skin at the crazy thought taking hold. Blaine probably was the best cure to a heartbreak. They didn't live in the same world, barely on the same planet, and if his foot rubs were a small testament...

  No.

  Nope.

  A moment of horny desperation did not make for good decision making. Alyssa took another swig, held the liquor in her mouth until it burned a little then swallowed. Her head back firmly on her shoulders instead of a cloud of lust, she went strolled into the living room.

  Hell.

  He'd stretched his arms over the back of the couch. The corded muscles in his forearms and biceps were on full display. He also had a certified manspread that showcased his long, thick thighs. The cut of his cheekbones at that angle, along with the messy waves of his hair, made him a poster boy for jump-my-bones.

  “Dammit,” she muttered.

  “You say something?” His attention remained on the TV so at least he hadn't witnessed her drooling.

  She waded over into his sphere. “Your drink.”

  He glanced up then narrowed his eyes. “You're blushing.”

  “Am I?” Her voice sounded a bit high. “Liquor does that to me sometimes.”

  “Bet it does.” He wrapped his fingers around her hand. A soft tug brought her between his legs, and there was no reason for him to say anything. He'd put her where she wanted to be. Hell, her everything throbbed from the want of standing right there between his thighs.

  Her hand tingled, but she gripped the glass to keep the cup from falling. “You're...”

  Pushy? Giving me exactly what I want but too scared to ask for?

  Alyssa tried again. “I'm telling myself all the reasons why I shouldn't jump into bed with you. I don't know you.”

  “I probably do this all the time,” he f
inished for her. “I won't remember your name in the morning. What kind of woman sleeps with a man she barely knows?”

  Everything he'd said was exactly what was running through her mind. Her breath hitched. “Yes.”

  He nodded like he was in complete understanding. “The easy way or the hard way?”

  She wanted to kiss him at how he'd simplified the complication. From the glint in his eye, he was going to make this easy for her.

  The knots in her shoulders stopped screaming so loud. “Why do I get the nagging suspicion, when you say the easy way, you mean your way?”

  He rested his hands on her hips. “Because I've long accepted doing exactly what you want to do is more fun. I'm easing the way for you to do the same.”

  “And what is it I really want to do?”

  Blaine tugged her hips again. “Straddle my lap.”

  Heat rushed up from her stomach, because, yes, that's exactly what she wanted to do while he held onto her hips. So she slid onto his lap.

  He grabbed the cup from her hand then took a sip as he watched her get comfortable. “Move closer so you're sitting right on top of my cock,” he murmured.

  She was having a hard enough time with their thighs touching. His were all muscle, and didn't take much for her to imagine what they looked like bare. Not pictures of him in shorts or in football pads—the real deal.

  But she did want to feel the hard ridge of his dick flush against her pussy. She splayed her hands on his chest and shifted until they were sex to sex. His inhalation only made his chest feel that much better beneath her hands. All muscle, firm and soft enough for her to press her fingers into his flesh.

  She curled her fingers into his T-shirt. “Now what?”

  Why did she have to sound so...wanton? With her voice low and husky she could audition for a phone sex job.

  Blaine trailed his mouth along her cheek to her ear. “Now do whatever thought made you blush earlier.”

  Well that would take some working up to, so she stole the glass from his hand and took a long sip. She felt the laugh rumble through his chest, his legs and into her as he seemed to realize she needed a bit of liquid courage to do what probably came naturally to him.

  Blaine rested his head on the back of her couch, likely extending his view of her. She handed him the glass. His fingers clasped around hers as he took it. Her damn scalp felt tight at the brief touch.

  But then she turned her head, lining up their mouths. With the bite of the cool whiskey still playing over her tongue, she kissed him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Blaine had no fucking clue what he was doing seducing a woman like Alyssa. Her tongue cut everything to the quick, but her heart was right there in her gaze. The latter didn't stop him from cupping an ass cheek with his free hand.

  He was a horrible person. No doubt. She didn't need a man with a potent smile, and little to no impulse control. She needed—hell if he knew. Someone who'd use a soft tone, encourage her, and to wait for, at least, their first date before feeling her up.

  But, no. Her tongue was in his mouth and there was no goddamn way he'd stop now. Even with the whiskey flavoring her taste, he could still pick up the vanilla bean and raspberry she'd taste-tested for the engagement party.

  He sucked hard on her tongue to get his fill and—she moaned. Yes. That. Blaine moved his hand from her ass to the back of her head to press her closer, and then he could take the kiss deeper. He could curl his tongue around hers and there would be nothing sweet or light between them when he was done.

  The little space she had militantly kept between her pussy and his crotch disappeared as she rocked her hips forward. The visceral reaction threw them deeper into what their mouths were doing. That was the way a kiss was supposed to be. It wasn't only a mating but a melding of lips and tongue.

  Her breasts crushed against his chest and breathing wasn't so important. The only thing that mattered was the hitch in her hips whenever he delved his tongue in and out. If they just kissed, the heat, intensity and the tease of her pussy lips along his cock could make him come.

  Her moan was like a purr, and his DNA felt it. He tilted his head and licked slowly into her mouth. He wanted that purr to singe his senses. The simple sound of her attraction had been exactly what he'd needed. Excitement and an ache burrowed in his gut and into him—something he'd never experienced or could have imagined.

  Maybe that spark flashed between them—hot and shocking—because she tore her mouth away. Yeah. Surprise lit her brown eyes as she looked at him. He picked out the doubt, the fear—all swirling in her gaze beneath her thick lashes.

  Any other time he'd have used humor to break the tension, but he wanted her to lean back down, close her lips over his and then he could shake the restless sensation that had been haunting him for weeks.

  “I...” she breathed.

  He shifted and his dick pressed deeper into the softness of her pussy lips—her slacks and his pants were no match for the way he gripped her hips and dragged her along his clothed cock. Then her mouth was back on his, her hips grinding into him. She moaned her satisfaction again.

  Blindly he found a place on the couch to notch and hold the glass then cupped both of her ass cheeks to help her along. Every brush sent a wave of need pulsing into his cock. Every time they ground into each other a little harder, a little slower as though to prolong the heady sensation.

  He didn't want to stop until she soaked them both. Then he could flip her onto her back, suck her juice through her slacks and then suck her clit until her hands were buried in his hair.

  When she swiped her tongue along his lower lip, he would have settled for pulling his dick out and letting her rub against him in her panties.

  And that was when he knew it was too late to leave. No, he wouldn't stay if she had any doubts, but almost every rational thought he had was gone. The last one—needing to know how far they'd go—was the only one that mattered. He gripped her hips to still her then with much regret drew his mouth from hers.

  First, he had to catch his breath. He was heaving like a freight train. He planted his head on the back of the couch and looked at her. “I—”

  Something cold and wet crept down the right side of his ass. He glanced down. The cup had upended all its contents, and likely had help from their foreplay. Her left pants leg had gotten a fair share of the ice and liquid.

  He muttered, “We made a bit of a mess. Not the one I imagined.”

  She cupped his cheeks and looked him right in the eye. “I needed to shower anyway.”

  He moved his hands back down to get ready and hold her up. “How far is your bathroom?”

  “You're going to sweep me off my feet again?”

  “Something like that.”

  She tilted her head back and laughed. It was raspy and so sexy. He wanted to scrape his teeth along her throat.

  “First door on the left,” she told him.

  “Hold on tight.”

  Her laugh flowed out of her as he carried her down the short hallway to her bathroom. The moment he hit the light and settled Alyssa on her feet, he kissed the sound away. This was not about play. He needed her bare, and now.

  A fever, borderline madness had taken over and he ripped at her shirt. A button or two may have hit him in the face, but the best reward was closing his hands over her breasts and feeling her growl-moan vibrate through her rib cage.

  No. He was wrong. Her fingers fumbling over, then catching his jean's button and zipper was the best reward.

  She didn't pull his pants down, but murmured against his lips, “Condom? Pocket or wallet? I don't think—” She gasped.

  He kept nipping at the sensitive spot on her neck. The salty tang of sweat and something much sweeter filled his mouth. Intoxicating. “We're not going to make it to the shower. We're going to fuck against this wall. Promise I will do everything. Everything. Later.”

  She grunted, sounding dissatisfied. “Protection is in your wallet, then?”

  Right. S
he'd asked him that first. “Back pocket,” he finally told her, taking his time to catch the edge of her panties and sliding them to the side. Her mound was bare, making her lips seemed puckered for a kiss. He ran his thumb between the wet slit. Moisture clung to the tip his finger.

  While she rummaged in his pockets he focused on the task of gliding his digit over her clit. Her lips were full there too and the swollen nub nestled between those two plump lips. He stroked her as she sheathed him and he kept flicking his thumb over the bud until the hood of her clit peeked between the folds.

  “Hold on again,” he told her, his voice raspy. “Hands around my neck. And I promise, later, I'll put your clit on my tongue and lick it until you can't breathe.”

  Her arms closed behind his neck and he dragged her up close to him.

  So warm. So soft. He wanted to get lost in her. “I'll use my fingers and mouth. Everywhere. From your neck to the back of your knees. You won't have to ask me.” He nipped the corner of her mouth.

  “Maybe beg,” he breathed as he put her back to the wall then lined up his cock to her entrance.

  He pressed into her and had to close his eyes for a moment. “Yes,” he said. “Begging is going to happen.”

  Blaine wasn't sure who would be the one pleading, but he stroked into her again and it didn't matter. Her legs hung from his hips. Soon he'd attend to that, but first he had to be deeper. Had to make her moan. By the third thrust, his balls rested along her ass.

  There.

  He ground his pelvis into her and the sound she made was better than a moan.

  “Blaine,” she crooned.

  He stilled, tried to inhale though his heart was jack hammering. “Grab my hair if you need to.”

  Once again she sank her teeth into her bottom lip before she met his gaze. A sharp haze flooded his brain. In that moment he could only be thankful for the grueling workouts he did daily, and thank the gods for every trainer who had pushed him to his very limits.

  Blaine shifted until her legs rested high on his forearms and his hands were clenched on her ass cheeks. She was suspended between the wall and his embrace.