The Jock

by Jaid Black

  Gwenyth licked her suddenly dry lips. Apparently baseball players weren’t taught the meaning of the words fair play at camp. She tried to maintain eye contact, but her gaze, as if summoned by a force of its own, soon meandered downward, to the magnificent erection jutting out from the nest of dark curls on Sam’s lower body. Good grief. He hadn’t exaggerated about the ten inches.

  Gwenyth took a deep, steadying breath. She knew, just knew, that Sam was waiting for her to make the first move. She could make love with him here and now or she could send him on his way so she could be alone with her thoughts, so she could decide her feelings. Mysteriously, option number two no longer held the same appeal as it had before he’d removed the now infamous towel.

  “What’s it gonna be, Cupcake?” Sam’s voice was thick with desire. “Are you gonna keep playin’ at the scared little girl or are you gonna quit runnin’ and face up to what’s happenin’ between us?” Hovering over the bed, he reached down and traced the outline of her lower lip with his thumb. “I’ve been wantin’ you for half of forever, Gwenyth Marie.”

  Gwenyth’s head shot up. She searched his eyes for any signs of a lie, but found nothing there. Was it possible? Had Sam really thought of her as more than a little sister, but refused to give into it because of her young age all those years ago? The sheer prospect of that image being feasible warmed her heart and softened her resolve to steer clear of him like nothing else could have.

  Gwenyth gave herself over to what she’d wanted, to what she’d needed for as long as she could remember. Already on her knees, she locked eyes with Sam as she tentatively reached out for his hips and drew his body closer to her own. Wordlessly, Gwenyth placed a sweet kiss in the middle of his chest, causing Sam to drag in a ragged breath.

  Sam twined his large fingers around Gwenyth’s topknot and used it to press her face closer into his chest. He kissed the top of her head and groaned. Sam’s breathing grew choppier as Gwenyth’s kisses made a searing path around first one flat nipple, and then the other. She worked her way down his body with an agonizing slowness, one hand splayed against his chest, the other now cupping his erection. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. “You’re killin’ me Gwen.”

  Gwenyth smiled against Sam’s chest as she continued along the path she’d wanted to tread down for years. She licked an imaginary circle around the center of his hard, flat abdomen, stopping when she reached the tip of his erection. Sam shuddered and groaned when Gwenyth licked the very top of his arousal. His muscles bunched and tensed in anticipation of what he knew was coming. “Come on, baby,” he whispered hoarsely, “kiss all of him.”

  Sam sucked in his breath when she did just that. He didn’t know how much he’d be able to take, how long he could last when faced with so much burning need. She took him all the way in, his cock moving in and out of the back of her throat. He allowed her mouth a few more strokes down the length of him, then pulled her face away from his erection. She released his cock with a popping sound.

  Pushing Gwenyth onto her back, he coaxed her nightgown from her body and threw it to the floor, leaving her clad in nothing but silk panties. Sam climbed between her legs and secured himself amidst her splayed thighs. “The first time I cum inside of you, baby, it will damn well be in here.” He moved his erection against her pussy, leaving no question as to where here was.

  Gwenyth whimpered something unintelligible as she arched her hips against him. Sam groaned low in his throat, sat up on his knees, and discarded her panties in one fluid motion. His possessive gaze roamed the length of her, drinking in the sight of the body he’d wanted to see naked for what felt like forever. “Open your legs wider,” he murmured.

  Gwenyth was slightly embarrassed to watch Sam ogle her body the way he was, but she did as he asked anyway. He was all warrior now, all commanding. There was nothing left in his resolve that could be deemed gentle or compromising. She spread her thighs wide and felt her belly sizzle in tune with Sam’s sucked in breath.

  Sam sat there on his knees, looking Gwenyth’s body over like a long-denied possession he’d finally been granted the right of ownership to. He kneaded her breasts, feeling the full, heavy weight of them in his palms. He rubbed the pads of his thumbs across her protruding nipples, remembering how especially sensitive she was there. She moaned, causing his erection to jut out achingly further.

  Sam ran his hands down lower, first grazing his fingers through the trim, tawny curls at the juncture of Gwenyth’s thighs, then trailing even lower, settling at last on the swollen clit hidden in her folds like a glistening jewel. The contrast between Gwenyth’s tanned skin and the pinkness of her pussy was sexy in the extreme.

  Gwenyth gasped at the first stroke Sam’s fingers made. The pleasure was so intense. Instinctively, perhaps out of self-preservation, she tried to clamp her thighs closed. Sam’s glazed-over, implacable stare met her hazy one. “Open your legs, sweetheart. Take everything I give to you.” His voice was authoritative and provocative, and sexy as hell. She hesitated before splaying her legs as wide as she could.

  Sam continued to rub Gwenyth’s clit as he watched her breathing hitch and her eyes close from the intense pleasure of it. “Does that feel good, baby?” he asked. Assured of the answer, Sam stroked and circled faster until Gwenyth’s tremblings began and he felt her at last come apart in his arms. She threw her head back and arched her hips as she moaned out her orgasm into the night.

  Wanting to feel her spasms directly, Sam gripped his cock at the base and guided it toward Gwenyth’s opening. Their gazes clashed. He entered her with one deep thrust. She gasped.

  Sam ground his teeth against the feel of the exquisite tightness of her pussy. Her vagina pulsed, clutching his cock and drawing it in deeper. He lowered his chest to Gwenyth’s, kissed her possessively on the lips, and surged forward once more. His thrusts were long and fully penetrating, over and over, again and again. “Mmm. Your pussy feels so good,” he said hoarsely.

  Sam needed her too much to go slow. He could savor the inside of her body later. For this first time, the primal need to possess and lay claim was too great for anything less than a fast and furious fucking.

  Gwenyth writhed and moaned as Sam more than lived up to her every fantasy of him. When he grabbed her by the hips and pounded into her flesh, over and over, again and again, her swollen clit received enough friction to set her tremors off all over again.

  Sam felt Gwenyth’s orgasm build and crescendo and he knew this time he would follow her. Thrusting deeply once, twice, three times more, he threw his head back and, with a low growl, spurted his cum deep inside of her.

  Panting heavily, Sam slowly lowered himself onto Gwenyth’s body before giving into his exhaustion and collapsing fully on top of her.

  Gwenyth rubbed Sam’s back, purring like a sated kitten, reveling in the sweaty, sweet scent of their lovemaking. A few minutes later, Sam raised his head and peered into her eyes. The look he gave her was all male, all arrogant. “Did you sort out your feelings yet, Cupcake?”

  Gwenyth threw Sam a sour look meant to silence him. It had zero effect. He chuckled as he rolled off of her and fell onto the bed beside her. Drawing her into his side to lay on his chest, Sam grinned. “That’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll wake you up to love you again in a couple hours and you can sort a little more out then.”

  Gwenyth smacked Sam on the stomach. “You’re impossible, Tremont.”

  “Uh huh. And you’re mine, Jones.”

  Gwenyth neither confirmed nor denied that bold statement. The man hardly needed any more boosts to his overly inflated ego tonight. “Goodnight, Sam.”

  He chuckled. “Goodnight, Cupcake.”

  Chapter 8

  Gwenyth sat in front of the vanity in her old bedroom. She applied her makeup with expert precision, having been taught to do so by Verlene at a tender age. Grandmama had claimed it was a skill every fashion photographer should know how to do without a makeup artist’s aid, so Gwenyth had learned, eager to please her and
join her respected grandmother’s ranks. When it came time to apply the eyeliner, Gwenyth leaned in closer to get a better viewing angle. She was so tender from Sam’s heated lovemaking that the abrupt movement caused her to wince.

  He had taken her five times since last night. Five lusty, sweaty, sinfully wicked, outrageously wonderful times. Gwenyth smiled. She bet even Lord Gregory didn’t have the stamina of Sam Tremont. The man simply couldn’t keep his hands off of her.

  After their first coupling, Sam had let Gwenyth sleep for maybe an hour. She’d woken up to the exquisite feel of his lazy, provocative kisses trailing down her backside. A minute later, he’d pulled her to her knees and entered her from behind. Sam’s thrusts had been fast and demanding, as heated and intense as they’d been the first time.

  The third time had happened in the middle of the night, spoon fashion. Whereas the previous encounters had been hard and relentless, Sam’s lovemaking that time had been tender, lingering, and seductively drawn out. He had brought Gwenyth to orgasm more times than she’d believed humanly possible.

  The fourth and fifth times had occurred first in the shower this morning and then just an hour ago before Gwenyth had started dressing for Harry’s campaign dinner and speech at the University of Tampa this evening. She simply couldn’t fathom from what resources the man pooled his energy. If Sam was anywhere near as tired as she was, they’d both be lucky to make it through the appetizer course tonight, let alone the full meal. And poor Sam, he had to give a speech on Harry’s behalf to boot.

  Gwenyth applied her lipstick next then dabbed at her mouth with a tissue to soften the effect. She wouldn’t be seeing Sam again until she arrived at UT because he had agreed weeks past to accompany Harry there. It was just as well. She was having a hard enough time dealing with all that had happened without being in Sam’s overwhelming presence.

  On one hand, Gwenyth’s reservations seemed trite and unbelievably stupid to even herself. She’d wanted Sam for as long as she could remember and now here he was in the flesh. Better yet, he was, according to him, crazy about her. On the other hand, Gwenyth had never been the type to give herself over emotionally to a man. Surrendering herself and giving another person a chance to hurt her had never been high on her list of “must- dos.” The truth of the matter was, the fantasy of Sam was a lot easier to deal with than the reality of him. He had the power to hurt her in a way no man but him possessed.

  Gwenyth stood up and did a quick once-over in the mirror. She’d never thought of herself as an exceptionally attractive woman, but she was extremely pleased with the way she looked tonight. Her body-molded, floor length black dress was held up by spaghetti straps and flowed to her ankles. The right side was split, showcasing her leg up to the lower thigh. The matching black high heels gracefully arched her feet, causing the muscles in her calves to grip sexily. Her gold-streaked tawny hair was loose tonight, the curls cascading down in ringlets to just above her waist. A single gold bangle around her wrist and matching gold hoop earrings completed her ensemble.

  Gwenyth turned off the bulbs that surrounded the vanity, grabbed her purse, and headed downstairs to wait for Candy to pick her up. Fifteen minutes later, Gwenyth sat in the passenger side of Candy’s trendy red SUV and smiled over to her. “You look great, Can.”

  Candy blew out a loud, popping bubble, then smiled. “Thanks, Gwen, so do you.” She made a right on Kennedy, sped up the SUV to give the finger to the driver beside her who’d cut her off a mile back, then forgot him just as quickly. “So,” she beamed, looking at Gwenyth out of the corner of her eye, “do you like my latest book? Be honest now. I can take it.”

  Gwenyth grinned. “Uh huh. I was just getting to the big scene last night when you- know-who interrupted me.”

  Candy giggled. “Sam ‘The Slam’ Tremont?” She turned her face toward Gwenyth long enough to wiggle her eyebrows mischievously at her. “Does he live up to his nickname, ‘The Slam?’”

  Gwenyth’s cheeks pinkened. Only her best friend would have the audacity to ask her such an intimate question. “Yes,” she admitted somewhat embarrassed, “and then some.”

  Candy slapped her knee and giggled excitedly. “Do tell.”

  “Let’s just say that the man has stamina. It went through my mind more than once last night that he could give any hero you’ve ever penned a run for his money.”

  “No kidding?”

  “No kidding.”

  Candy grinned. “I’m happy about this Gwenyth, very happy. You deserve this more than anyone I know.” She turned on her signal and swerved the car into the left lane, preparing to turn into UT’s entrance when the light changed. “I was beginning to worry about you there for a while.”

  Gwenyth arched a shapely brow. “Oh?”

  Candy shook her head as if in reprimand. “Your dates were becoming more and more bizarre. It was starting to look like you were picking out men based on the sole criteria of how unlikely they’d be to make you feel anything for them.”

  Gwenyth winced at her insight, but said nothing.

  “I mean, let’s take Trevor for example. Good grief, Gwen, that guy still lives with his mother!”

  That Gwen had dumped Trevor the very evening she’d been assaulted by Webster Carr in the woods mattered little at the moment. They’d remained friends and she felt obliged to defend him. “Lots of men live with their mothers, Can.”

  “At forty-two?”

  “Yeah. Well. Trevor is sensitive to his mother’s needs.”

  “One has to wonder how sensitive.”

  “Candy! That’s a terrible thing to imply!”

  Candy unabashedly grinned. “Whatever.” She waved her hand dismissively through the air as she made a left turn into UT’s entrance. “Does Sam know you and Trevor broke up?”

  Gwenyth worried her lower lip. “Come to think of it, no. We haven’t discussed him since that night in the kitchen.”

  “Since that night where you let him mistakenly believe you two were still seeing each other as more than friends, you mean.”

  “Something like that,” Gwenyth muttered.

  Candy laughed. “Take it easy, Gwen. I’m on your side. It’s good for Sam to realize that you won’t be an easy catch.”

  Gwenyth blew out a breath that sent a stray curl coasting over her shoulder. It seemed to her that where Sam Tremont was concerned, easy was her middle name. Not that she was ready to admit that to him yet. Definitely not.

  Gwenyth absently turned her gaze to the buttresses of the historical hotel turned private university that loomed into view. It occurred to her that leaving for California tomorrow was the best thing that could happen in her relationship with Sam. Being in LA would give her time away from his overwhelming presence, time to think and sort everything out.

  She ignored the nagging voice that told Gwenyth her destiny had already been carved out long ago—years ago—before she’d ever had a choice.

  * * * * *

  Sam glanced at his Rolex and wondered to himself for the fifth time in ten minutes just what in the hell was keeping Cupcake. Sweet Jesus, he was standing here in the middle of an elegant ballroom, local politicians and media abounding, yet he was still as hard as he’d been last night at the mere thought of seeing her. When a man had ten inches of erect manhood to give to his woman, the sight could become an embarrassing one.

  Sam realized that Gwenyth hadn’t quite come to terms with their relationship yet, but that was okay. He’d agreed this afternoon to let her spend her time in LA sorting through her emotions and figuring out what it was she was wanting. Sam had no trouble at all agreeing to that since he’d be buried deep inside of her pussy every moment she wasn’t busy snapping pictures. Of course, he’d neglected to tell Cupcake that he was her lead model. She’d be angry as a hornet when she found out, no doubt, so Sam had decided to let her find out when they got to LA…where there were witnesses.

  Sam was more than prepared for Gwenyth’s anger. He knew she’d be mad, maybe even irate. But that w
as okay. He’d let her have her say, rage at him all she cared to, then he’d nudge her onto the nearest bed and thrust inside of her, putting him back where he belonged. They could work out Gwenyth’s anger together, between the sheets. As a couple. The way all problems should be worked out. The thought brought a smile to his lips.

  “Why are you so happy?”

  Startled, Sam’s head shot up. He grinned and patted Harry on the back. “The real question, Bro, is why aren’t you happy? Looks like this dinner is going to be a complete success.”

  Harry sighed. He took a moment to greet two enthusiastic constituents before turning back to Sam. “Granddad will be the death of me,” he admitted dejectedly.

  Sam chuckled. “Aw come on, Willy’s not all that bad.”

  Harry straightened to his full six feet and one inch. He snorted incredulously. “He just told the mayor he knew where he could buy a more realistic looking hairpiece from.”

  Sam’s chuckle transformed into an all-out guffaw. “No kiddin’?” At Harry’s worried look, he patted him on the back again. “Look buddy, Brian and I will smooth things over in that corner. Don’t worry about it.”

  Harry shook his head, not understanding. “Brian?”

  “Brian Goodman. Pitcher for the New England Crusaders.”

  Harry’s eyes lit up like a little boy who’d just been handed a Christmas present he could open up early. “The Brian Goodman? He’s here?”

  Sam frowned. “You didn’t get all that fired up and excited to see me again, Bro.”

  Harry waved his hand impatiently. “You’re family.”

  Family. God, that sure enough sounded good to Sam’s ears. Only he was certain he was thinking in different terms than Harry was. Sam’s thoughts as of late had been straying toward the possibility of making himself a true member of the Jones family, not just an honorary one. As much as he had run from the idea of marrying a second time in the past, the thought wasn’t at all scary where Gwen was concerned. Of course, those other women he’d dated just hadn’t been his Cupcake.