by S. J. Bishop
“I’ll explain over dinner,” he said. “Can I take you out Friday night?”
“No, I’m having dinner with friends on Friday. Are you available Saturday?”
Ted sighed. “I try not to go out the night before a game. What about tomorrow? Are you available?”
“I am.”
“Okay. I’ll pick you up.”
“Okay.” We both waited a moment before I hung up the phone. And blinked. Had that really just happened?
16
Ted
I all but slumped into the showers after practice. Practice had been brutal. Coach was sure that, after last week’s playing, I was bound to get double-teamed this week, meaning I had to work on routes and footwork. I was exhausted, and not even the promise of dinner with Erin could cheer me up. I was not in the mood to go anywhere tonight.
I showered, standing in the warm water longer than normal, trying to loosen up muscles that I knew would be stiff tomorrow.
When I got out, I toweled off and called her. “Hey,” I said. “Can I change our plans? I’m going to go back to my house and change, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to actually make it out tonight. I’m wiped. Do you care to come over?”
“Sure. Do you want me to pick up dinner on my way?”
“No, we’ll order takeout,” I assured her and hung up the phone.
“Is that coma girl?” asked Burke, coming up beside me, butt-ass naked.
“Bro, I don’t know how you deal with a newborn and still manage to look bright-eyed at practice,” I said to him. “I feel like shit.”
“Suck down some protein, man,” Burke advised. “Getting laid helps,” he winked.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I muttered.
I’d been home long enough to order takeout from Henrietta’s when the buzzer rang and I had to let Erin in. Minutes later, she was standing at my door.
“Are you already back to work?” I asked, horrified. She looked smart, in a dark purple blouse tucked into a black A-line skirt. She carried a worn brown leather shoulder bag that looked like it was packed with folders and other documents.
“I’m not technically working,” she said, stepping into my apartment. She was wearing perfume. It was faint – no doubt it had been on her all day – but it smelled like lilac and vanilla. My mouth watered. “I’m just catching up on work,” she continued, spying the glass of red wine I had set down on the coffee table. She moved towards it with intention, dropping her bag on the couch, picking up the wine, and sticking her nose into the glass.
“You look nice,” I told her. She did. She looked like someone who might work for a dating website. Her thick, chestnut hair was down around her shoulders, curled so that it bounced. Her outfit was nice without being intimidating. Her shoes looked comfortable enough but had a two-inch heel. She kept them on.
Fuck.
When a girl kept her shoes on, it meant one of two things: 1) she thinks she looks good in them. This is usually the case if the shoes are stilettos (Erin’s were not); 2) she doesn’t plan on staying for long.
Well, we’d see about that.
“I ordered burgers,” I told her, joining her in the living room. I sat on the couch and was disappointed when she chose the wing chair. “I thought that was safe. Everyone loves burgers.”
“That’s great. I’m starving,” said Erin, reaching into her bag and pulling out one of the folders and her notebook. “Can we talk about the article?” she asked, raising her brows at me in business-like inquiry.
I couldn’t help but smile. Erin was great at single-minded focus. It was what had made her so intimidating and so effective as a student. I had a feeling it was serving her well in her profession, too.
“Sure,” I said. I was in no mood to talk about the article, but it would take me maybe three minutes to get her thinking about other things.
“Great! Loretta wants me to do a series of these…” Erin launched into her explanation and, to be honest, I had trouble listening. She’d put gloss on her lips, and fuck me if I wasn’t staring at them and thinking about how pretty they’d look wrapped around the shaft of my…
“So, what do you think?”
I pursed my lips and tried to make it look as if I was thinking over what she’d said. “I think I might want to read them before you publish them,” I said carefully.
“Of course,” said Erin.
The buzzer rang. Those were our burgers. I got up to get them, shaking my head at myself. Three minutes, yeah right. As if I could forget that Erin wasn’t like the girls I used to date. Erin was intense, focused, and hard to crack.
Come on, Ted, you’re a pro. I knew the reason she was holding me at a distance was because I’d probably hurt her feelings by not calling her. Best to grab the bull by the horns. As I set the two Styrofoam containers out onto the coffee table, I said, casually, “So, I’m sorry about not reaching out.”
“Not a problem,” said Erin, and I almost believed her. But I knew better: when you don’t call a girl at least twenty-four hours later – it’s always a problem.
“I guess, like you, when you left my apartment the other night, I was dealing with a few more emotions than I’d thought I’d be dealing with.”
I watched Erin’s gaze sharpen and then soften. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I didn’t realize it would be complicated for you…”
“Of course not,” I said, sitting back and taking a big bite of my burger. I chewed and swallowed before saying, “Why would you? You don’t remember our shared history.”
“What was so complicated about our relationship?” she asked, leaning forward and allowing me a glimpse down her blouse, where her full breasts pressed together, all but inviting me to dive in and take a bite. I took another bite of my burger instead. Much as I might want to dive down her shirt, I had a feeling this conversation might be important.
“What about our shared history got the better of you?” she pressed.
I inhaled through my nose, debating how much to tell her. “Hey, breakups are hard.” Good, Ted. Nice political answer: avoid the question entirely. “Believe it or not, I was pretty damn vulnerable after you broke up with me. I wasn’t so sure – hell, I’m still not so sure – whether or not I wanted to invite that kind of shit back into my life. I remember how hot the fire was, trust me,” I winked at her. “But I also remember how bad the burn hurt.”
Erin frowned, mulling over what I’d had to say. “So why start things up again?” she asked.
I nearly groaned. This was the Erin I remembered from high school. So confident on the surface but insecure as fuck underneath it all. The old Erin was constantly looking for validation from me. I’m not the ‘give validation type.’ A lot of our fights had stemmed from that. She was constantly looking for me to say something to her, and I was constantly trying to show her how much she meant to me. But fine. I wasn’t seventeen anymore. I could play alone. “Because I’m single,” I said. “Because you seemed vulnerable, and I wanted to help, to talk to you. Because when I saw you in the stands at the game, I decided I wanted to take you home.”
She sat back, shaking her head. “It’s that simple for you?”
I shrugged. “I don’t believe in overly complicating things or thinking about them too hard. I didn’t call you because I wasn’t sure what I wanted from you. If I’m being real, I still don’t know.”
“Oh.”
“Hey!” I said, reaching over. “Listen, here’s what I know. I like spending time with you, and I can’t stop thinking about how hot you were the other night.”
She blushed and took a bite of her hamburger, chewing thoughtfully before pinning me with a far-seeing stare. “You know,” she said. “I can’t tell if you’re really good or really bad at the whole honesty thing.”
I grinned and leaned in, pressing my hand to her bare knee. “Is it working for you?”
Erin’s cheeks became even more heated, but her gaze was direct. “Yes.” But she crossed her legs, sliding he
r knee from out of my grasp, and reached down to grab a French fry. “And I hate to be all ‘girly’ about this, but I’d like to know where that leaves us.”
I shrugged. “I want you. Right now. And I’ve got about four different positions in mind….” I saw her eyes dart to my crotch, and I grinned. I knew what she saw. “But if you’re talking long-term – I don’t do long-term.”
Erin looked up, her eyes hot. “Ever?”
“I never say never.” I shrugged. “But I’ve got a lot of things on my mind this season. I don’t want to make a commitment I can’t keep.”
“So, there’s nothing in this for me but fucking.”
“I don’t want to toot my own horn,” I said. “But I wouldn’t call that nothing.”
Erin snorted. “You make it sound like you have a vibrating dick. I hate to break it to you, Ted, but you’re not that special.”
“Ouch,” I said. Fuck. That stung.
Erin shrugged, unapologetic. And suddenly, the only thing I wanted to do was to prove to her that I was, in fact, that special. I was fucking Hall of Fame material. Not only on the field, but in bed, too. And I was going to prove it.
“What are you doing?” asked Erin, eying me warily as I stood.
“You issued a challenge,” I said. “And I always rise to a challenge.”
17
Erin
It’s my fault, I thought as Ted reached down, tugged me to my feet, and took my chin in his hands. Thrills of anticipation were swirling beneath my skin. My heart had started pounding in my chest. What had I thought was going to happen? I knew the answer to that: this. I’d thought this was going to happen. I’d wanted this to happen.
I knew Ted wanted me, and that at least he was being honest with me about his feelings. But I also got the feeling that he was using honesty as a shield. And that seemed like something familiar, as if that was something he’d done when I’d known him in high school. Tell me a bit of the truth, protect the rest of it. I wondered what it was he was protecting. What wasn’t he telling me?
Much as I wanted to know, I wanted him more. I’d been dreaming about the feel of him inside me for three days. Sleeping with Ted meant I got to push all of my issues and obligations aside. I didn’t have to think about all of the memories I was missing, the detective I had to visit, the work I had to catch up on…
As Ted’s lips descended on mine, I tilted my chin up and waited. His mouth never came. I opened my eyes and saw him staring into them, the desire in their depths matching the desire in mine.
“Like that is it,” I murmured.
“Oh just you wait,” said Ted, his hands sweeping to the small of my back and pressing me against him. I could feel the hard, enormous ridge of his erection pressing into my stomach. I reached up and wrapped my hand around it.
The last time we’d had sex, he’d been all tenderness and control. This time, I wanted the control. I needed it.
Ted wrapped his hand around mine, directing the pressure of my grip. His free hand slid up to the nape of my neck, engulfing my skull in his large palm. His grip was still gentle. Above everything, he was still being careful with me. My heart hurt just thinking about it.
As his fingers massaged the base of my skull, his lips continued to tease mine, coming down to brush against them and then lift away. Brush against, and then pull back. All the while, he had his other hand on mine. I’d been so focused on the feel of his hand on my head (so unbelievably sexy) and wanting his lips to capture mine, that I hadn’t noticed that he’d unzipped his pants, that I was no longer grabbing cotton but hot, silky skin.
I stared down as his lips skated across my temple. Smirking, I sank to my knees.
For a second, I thought he might not let me, but he did, both of his hands coming up to hold my head gently as my tongue darted out to lick the thick head of his cock.
Ted stilled.
I did it again, my tongue swirling across the head and then down the length of the shaft. Ted stiffened and let out a low sound of approval. He didn’t try to direct me but let me linger at the base, let my fingers reach out to cup his balls, to squeeze gently while I took his head into my mouth.
Goddamn, he was large. I had to loosen my jaw to fit him in and relax my throat to take in the length of him. Ted gasped as I took him deep without gagging, sucked him hard on the way out, and swirled my tongue at the end.
“Oh fuck!” he barked as I did it again and again.
I knew he was content to let me finish him that way, but where would be the fun in that? I let him go, and he hissed as I stood back up.
Before I realized it, he’d turned me around and pushed me up against the back of the couch. I gasped as his hand ran up the inside of my bare thigh, pushing my skirt to my waist and baring my ass and my thong.
Ted’s finger hooked the lace of my thong and drew it down my thighs, forcing me to step out of it. Fuck. I was still wearing my heels.
I had no time to think about that. His hand was on my ass cheeks, squeezing them, and it felt fantastic. I arched into his grip, burying my face into the couch. I gasped as his fingers stroked down the length of my ass and found that soft, wet spot between my thighs. His finger sunk deep and swirled. One, and then the other. I pressed against him, wanting more, and felt him brush my hair aside, his teeth scoring the sensitive skin at the base of my neck.
“You want me to make you beg for it?” he asked huskily, and I felt him at my opening. Teasing me at the entrance.
“You’re not that mean,” I said, grinding back against him.
“Wrong,” said Ted into my ear. “I am that mean, but I’m also not into self-denial.”
And with that, he began to press inside. I whimpered as he pulled me into the right position to take him, whimpered as he hit the right spot inside me as his hands untucked my shirt and moved to cup my breasts through the bra. His fingers found my nipples through the fabric and squeezed.
My knees trembled, and trembled again when he withdrew and pressed inward again, relentless.
“Oh Ted, oh fuck, Ted!” I cried out as he surged in again, out, and then in again. His mouth on my neck, his hand on my nipple, and his thick, hot length inside me were too much to bear. When his free hand came around to press his palm against my clit and he pressed into me, aggressive, driving me against his hand, I came. Hard.
That was all the permission Ted needed. He began to move in earnest, relinquishing none of the control and forcing my orgasm onward as he had the first time, his mouth working hot at my neck and his fingers pinching my nipples so hard that pain and pleasure became one sensation.
I knew I was keening, was crying, but he was making noise too, gasping and panting as he drove us both higher, and higher, and higher.
I felt him pull out just as my second orgasm slammed into me again. I bucked against his hand and felt him spill against my thigh. Trembling together, we both remained where we were until Ted straightened and spun me around.
He put me back together with all of the attention of a parent. And when he was finished cleaning me up and tucking everything back into place, he stood there, staring at me. We stood there like that, both panting slightly and staring into each other’s eyes. I felt the strangest feeling come over me, a feeling of oneness, of rightness. Ted’s fingers were tangled in mine; the expression on his face said he felt it too, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it.
Then he grinned. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s finish the burgers before they get cold.”
We finished eating, and even turned on TV to watch some sports highlights, but we didn’t last long. Ted wasn’t done with me. We went back to his bed a little while later, where he let me take control, and I set about showing him that I knew how to fuck just as well as he did.
In the end, he was silent as he opened up his arm and let me curl into his chest. “You know,” he said. His voice was thick with drowsiness, yet it was only nine o’clock. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he was tired. “If you’re going to w
rite a series of articles, it’s only fair that I take you out on a series of dates.”
My heart caught in my throat. Just two hours ago, he’d told me he didn’t know what he wanted. I bit my lip to keep from letting the joy that seared through me show on my face.
“You’re right,” I said. “It’s only fair.”
18
Ted
“Someone’s in a good mood,” muttered Vic Ferguson, darkly, as I passed by him on my way out the door. Okay. Maybe I was whistling.
“Why on earth would I not be in a good mood?” After that killer practice yesterday, we’d spent most of today looking at tapes. The linemen had gotten their asses handed to them at workout today, but the running backs, tight ends, and wide receivers had talked strategy most of the day. I was feeling ready for Sunday’s game.
“Come to think of it,” I said as Vic rolled his eyes and kept heading towards the locker room. “Why are you in a bad mood?”
“I have a guess,” said Caz under his breath as he blew past me on his way out the door.
Ah. “Lady troubles?” I asked Vic. I remembered the guys talking about how Vic was dating Caz’s ex-girlfriend, a tempestuous Venezuelan model.
Vic turned and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at me in challenge. “What would you know about lady troubles, Prince Charming? You ever been with a lady long enough for her to give you trouble?”
“I let your mom give my dick trouble,” I returned.
“Motherfucker…”
“Bro.” Dash exited the locker room, nearly knocking into Vic. “Every day with a woman brings trouble. Women are nothing but goddamn trouble.” He shook his head and clapped the defender on the shoulder. Was Dash consoling Vic? What a big bunch of goddamn babies.
