by Tamara Adams
She was so far out of her league she couldn't think straight.
Focus Ronnie…
Stockard Manning was cooking for her. Not just cooking either. He looked like he knew what he was doing. Judging from the smells, he was a very, very good chef.
Add to that the fact that he'd casually pulled off his sweater and was cooking in a form fitting t-shirt and tight jeans. Actually with a body like that, anything would look good.
The man's muscles had muscles. But he didn't look over done.
No, he looked perfect.
He'd poured her a glass of red wine which she was sipping while she watched him cook. Of course she should be interviewing him but he'd asked her to wait until they ate.
It wasn't such a large request. So she'd just nodded and accepted the glass of wine. He'd poured himself one and gotten to work.
She was staring at his back as it flexed under his shirt while he cooked. His neck alone looked so strong. It had to be, though right?
She wondered for the hundredth time if he used steroids. That would just be a kick in the pants wouldn't it? But somehow she didn't think he did.
He lacked the machismo and bristling nervous energy she'd observed in other users. Plus, he just seemed too good for it. Too honorable, if that made any sense.
"Alright… we are just about… ready."
He glanced over his shoulder at her, catching her staring. She blushed and looked away. Come on Ronnie, this is not a date.
"Come, sit."
He gestured to a long table by the glass windows. He adjusted the light so that it was bright enough to see, but soft enough to see the incredible view of Manhattan. Then he set a plate in front of her.
Fresh fillet of sole with steamed vegetables and some sort of sauce that was making her mouth water.
"It looks delicious."
He was staring at her with a bemused look on his face as he slid into the seat across from her. Once again she was struck by his physical presence and grace.
He was beautiful, yes. But he was a man in every sense of the word.
"Go ahead."
She cut into her fish and speared a bite. She closed her eyes as she chewed.
When she opened her eyes he was staring at her, his chin rested on folded hands.
"It's wonderful."
"Good."
"Aren't you going to eat."
"Yes."
He picked up his fork and knife and started into his meal. She watched him eat as she dug into her food. His mouth was sensuous looking in the extreme. The man had pillow lips. She had a very clear image of him suddenly going to work with his mouth.
On her.
It was a very good thing he couldn't read her mind.
She took a sip of her wine and reminded herself why she was here.
"So."
He looked up at her and grinned.
"Back to business?"
She nodded.
"What do you want to know?"
"How many players use performance enhancing drugs? Is it an open secret."
He leaned back in his seat.
"Well, they don't flaunt it if that's what you mean. So I wouldn't know for sure unless they told me."
"And have they?"
He shook his head.
"No. But I don't really encourage that sort of confidence."
"So you don't know players who use."
"Oh I'm sure I do. I think at least half had tried them once or twice. The guys who use it heavy, well, it's sort of obvious."
"Care to name names?"
He raised an eye brow at her.
"No. It's illegal. I don't want to ruin anyone's career."
He refilled their wine glasses and she took a sip.
"But it's dishonest. Where's the sportsmanship in some people having an edge?"
He shrugged, his massive shoulders drawing her eye again.
"It's none of my business what they do. Besides, some people need help to keep up. Especially after an injury."
"What do you think their reasoning is. They are risking their careers and reputations?"
"You really aren't going to give up are you?"
"This is my one shot. They gave me the assignment thinking I wouldn't get anywhere with it. The ground has already been well covered."
"You want to get out of the minors."
She nodded.
"Drink your wine."
She sighed and took another sip. She was already starting to feel tipsy.
"I'll answer whatever I can. If you let me interview you afterwards."
A thrill went through her body at his words. It almost sounded like… he wanted to do more than ask questions.
"Alright. Please. If you have any insight I'd appreciate it."
He sighed.
"I think a lot of guys think it's their own body. They can do what they want to it."
"What about you? Do you believe in sports enhancement drugs."
He grinned at her arrogantly.
"I don't need any enhancing."
As if to prove his point, he stood and lifted their plates. His body blocked out everything for a moment.
She realized that she believed him.
He didn't need drugs to be at the top of his game. He just was.
He put the dishes in the sink and then came back to scoop up the glasses and wine.
"Come on, let's sit over here."
She followed him without a word, somehow knowing that things were about to change. He wanted her. She knew it.
It wasn't professional to get involved with a source.
But she'd be lying if she said she didn't want him too.
Rather badly.
She sat on the long low ultra modern couch with him. It faced the wall of windows. The lights were lower over here. He refreshed her wine and leaned back in his seat, staring at her.
"Any more questions?"
"I know I should be grilling you but I can't think of anything else right now."
"That's okay. You can ask me later. Besides, I want to know about you."
Warning bells went off in her head as he leaned towards her. He was going to kiss her. She just knew it.
"What about me?"
Gently, he pulled the glass from her fingers and set it on the table beside his. He got closer and closer until his lips were hovering above hers.
"Where are you from? Why are you so damn persistent?"
He brushed his hand against her cheek.
"What do you taste like?"
Her mouth opened slightly in surprise. He grinned and leaned in, softly rubbing his lips across hers. Then he nudged her lips further apart and slid his tongue inside. She moaned as he slowly and expertly tangled his tongue with hers.
Stockard Manning could kiss.
It was a long time before he pulled back. She realized that her arms were around him, gripping his shoulders tightly. His palms were making slow circles on her back.
"I thought you didn't… date during the season."
"I don't. But I can make an exception."
He lowered his mouth to hers again. She should stop this. But somehow, she couldn't.
She felt utterly at his mercy. But she knew he wouldn't hurt her. She also knew that she didn't have the strength of will to fight this insane attraction she was having to him. Her whole body was tingling in anticipation.
He eased her back onto the couch and pressed his body against hers.
Oh. My. Goodness.
The lights went out.
5.
Stockard could not help but laugh. In the darkness he could just barely make out her face. Her outraged, very indignant looking face.
"Is this how to trick women into going to bed with you?"
"I had nothing to do with this I swear."
She scowled at him and stood up, hastily straightening her clothing.
"Veronica- wait. Just look outside."
The whole city was dark. Surely she wouldn't think he orchestrated a citywide b
lackout just to get laid?
Besides, it wasn't like he had a problem getting laid. He could have any woman he wanted.
Well, almost.
The only woman he wanted right now was her.
Very, very badly.
"Oh. Well I should be going anyway. This was- a mistake!"
"Veronica. The elevators are out."
"I'll take the stairs!"
"We're thirty flights up. Besides, where will you go? It's not safe out there."
He led her back to the sectional.
"Just relax. I'm not going to bite you."
He let his hands slide up and down her arms soothingly.
"You're not?"
She looked so young and innocent in the dim light that he almost felt guilty for the seduction he was planning. Her huge eyes were looking up at him with trepidation. And trust.
She trusted him.
And he was about to stomp all over that.
But it wasn't to be helped. He wanted her and that's all there was to it.
"No, I'm not."
He leaned down and took her tempting lips again. He moaned at the contact. She tasted so sweet… and felt so good in his arms.
She made a soft whimper as his hands slid over her body. He didn't grab at her the way he wanted to. Instead he teased them both, brushing lightly over her hips and those stupefying breasts of hers.
She was breathless when he lifted his head a few minutes later.
"We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Alright?"
She nodded, the trusting look back in her eyes.
He grinned and guided her back onto the supple leather couch. First things first, he had to get her out of these clothes. If he was going to drive her wild with desire, he needed access.
Luckily for him, he had excellent night vision. He pulled her top up and over her head and tossed it aside. He took in a deep breath at the sight of her; loose hair flowing over her shoulders, her firm high breasts in a plain white bra, skim gleaming in the moonlight.
Jesus, she was beautiful.
Reverently he reached out to touch her, stroking her again and again without making a move to do anything more. His hands glided over her skin, barely touching her. He watched as she arched into his hands. She was ready for the next step.
Slowly he unclasped her bra and tugged it away. Before she could feel the cool air he had one breast in his hand and the other was being laved by his tongue. She gasped as he teased her nipple to hard points.
He groaned and ground his hips against her. He hadn't been this hard since he was seventeen. If then. It was the ultimate tease, having her on his couch but not sure how far it would go.
If he had to stop, he was pretty sure he'd die.
So he had to keep her wanting more.
Wanting him.
**********
Veronica was mindless, just a bundle of nerves. A feeling, wanting animal. She whimpered as he pulled her jeans off, as eager as he was to be naked for him.
To be touched.
It had been so long since she'd been with a man she could barely remember. But that wasn't the only reason she was so frantic. He was him.
The way he looked, smelled, felt. But most of all the way he was touching her.
Gently, but with purpose.
He lay her jeans aside and slid his huge palms up her legs, reaching for her panties. He brushed his hands over them several times, making her moan incoherently. Then he took the edges between his finger tips and slowly pulled them down.
Moments later she felt him kissing his way up her thighs. His breath fanned her sex, making her quiver in anticipation. Then his lips found her. And his tongue.
Oh...
He was sliding his tongue lightly up and up the slit between her legs. She gasped, suddenly unable to catch her breath. No one had ever touched her that way, or given her pleasure in anything more than a perfunctory, let's get on with it kind of way.
Stockard was taking his time.
And then some.
He stroked his tongue inside her, making her cry out. That's when his fingers started to dance over her clitoris. And she stopped thinking entirely.
6.
The taste of her was driving him wild. Salty and tangy and oh so sweet.
Dayum.
He was going to bring her to completion before he went any further. He had to. She was so tight, such a small and dainty woman, and he was… not.
If he didn't prepare her, he'd tear her in two.
Besides, Stockard had never wanted anything more than to make her cum.
He picked up the tempo as his tongue dove inside her again and again. Each stroke he made sure to stretch her, open her up as much as possible. His fingers moved quickly too. It only took a little while before he felt the first flutters of her sugar walls.
Veronica was going to cum.
He redoubled his efforts, grabbing her hips in his hands and going to town. Her body arched up off the couch and he went with her, burying his face in her sweet honey pot.
She was shuddering helplessly as he lowered her back to the couch. He ran his hands up and down her beautiful body soothingly. Then he leaned up to kiss her.
"I want to take you to the bed."
She nodded at him in a daze.
He stood and lifted her in his arms. All warm, willing woman. He was smiling as he carried her to his bedroom. It was spartan, like the rest of the condo. But the bed was enormous. Custom made. He laid her down on the white coverlet. At last he could really see her, the outline of her skin visible even in the dark.
He pulled his pants off and his erection sprang free. He didn't waste any time. He couldn't. He grabbed a condom from his bedside table and slid it down over his aching cock.
Then he climbed on top of her, gentling easing her thighs apart.
"Veronica… I want you."
"Yes…"
That was all the encouragement he needed. He guided the tip of his shaft to her slippery opening, pressing into her with a deep sigh.
Gently he pushed forward, feeling her envelope him in her slick silky heat. He moaned as she gripped him, making more than the smallest movement possible. He eased back and forward in a small thrusting motion.
After what felt like forever of the exquisite torture of holding himself back, he felt her start to quiver around him.
"Oh!"
"Yes, Veronica. Oh yes…"
He grunted as her body clenched down on him in an epic orgasm. Her body released, allowing him to slide deeper. And then he got to work.
Steadily he circled his hips into hers as she shuddered beneath him in an ongoing orgasm. She was making soft high keening sounds, like an animal.
A sweet, delectable little animal.
He tried to go slow, to hold himself back, but she was too tight, too responsive.
"Christ! Veronica- I can't-"
With a groan he released inside her, his cock spasming as he pulsed out spurt after spurt of seed. He kept thrusting, pumping his essence deep inside her. It felt incredible, better than anything he'd ever felt before. It felt… too good.
He lay on top of her, bracing himself on his arms to keep from crushing her. At last his cock was still. He kissed her forehead and slowly pulled himself out.
His hand was sopping wet when he grasped his cock. He knew what had happened instantly. A small part of him rejoiced even as his mind started to whir.
Oh no.
OH NO.
"Veronica… I think the condom broke."
*********
Around 4 am the lights came back on.
Veronica blinked and looked over at Stockard. He was asleep with a faint smile on his face. She was glad that someone was happy.
She'd been staring at the ceiling in the darkness, wondering what the hell she was going to do. Should she take the morning after pill? Her upbringing was strict and religious. The morning after pill was terminating a life. She just couldn't bring herself to do it.
It
was in God's hands now.
He'd given her more pleasure than she'd ever experienced in her life. Way, way more.
And he may have given her a child.
She sighed and gingerly climbed out of the bed.
This had been a one time thing. Completely out of character for her. And she suspected, for him as well. The darkness, their mutual attraction, it had been too much to resist.
But it would never happen again.
And if there was a child, she'd deal with it. There was no need to involve him. She'd give it up for adoption. Or raise it. She'd always wanted to be a mother. Of course this was not the way she'd imagined it.
Not this soon. And not with a stranger.
She tip toed to the other room and put her clothes on as quietly as possible.
It was a shame really. She really did like him. She had a strange feeling that under different circumstances, she might even be able to love him.
But this was the real world. He was a pro athlete and she was a nobody. Well, a nobody for now. And she'd be damned if she let herself be known for being yet another gold digging sports ho.
Nuh uh. Not Mama Franklin's baby girl. She stood on her own two feet.
No matter what.
She took one look around the apartment and mentally said goodbye to the gorgeous, kind, sleeping man in the bedroom.
Then she opened the front door and closed it softly behind her. She knew she would not be back. She rode the elevator with a heavy heart and ignored the curious stare of the doorman standing at attention in the building's lobby.
She stepped into the night.
7.
Stockard rolled over, reaching for Veronica. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. Not without making love to her again.
At least twice.
He frowned when his hand found only cool sheets. He opened his eyes to see an empty bed, woefully missing one delightfully naked young woman.
Where the hell was she?
He rolled to his feet and pulled his jeans on.
"Veronica?"
Nothing.
She hadn't just left had she? She wouldn't. Not after the passionate night they'd spent together.
He wandering out into the open living space.
