by Susan Arden
“Tell me to stop.” He caressed her bottom, his large palm flat against her skin as she squirmed on top of his lap. Dressed only in jeans, Brett’s warm torso came into contact with her naked bottom as he pressed her down onto his muscular thighs.
She wouldn’t tell him to stop. Not after he’d withstood a beat down. “Go ahead.”
He smacked her bottom ten more times alternating sides and making her count, and then instructed her to thank him. Can you imagine!
“Thank you,” she blubbered, her eyes stinging from salty tears. She blinked them away by the time he hauled her upright to sit on his lap. She was very naked, and the feel of his jeans under her bottom was decadent.
He laid her down on the mattress and dropped his pants revealing his rock solid cock hugging his abs. “There isn’t anything nice about using someone. I’d never do that to you.” He went to the bathroom and returned with a bottle of lotion.
Turning her over, he hoisted her hips into the air. He rubbed her ass cheeks with the lotion that immediately cooled the burn. His breath caressed her skin. “Beautiful. Pink, and so damn perfect. I’d love to do more than run my hands over this part of your body. But not tonight. I want to take care of you.”
He kissed the skin over her ass, tracing the seam of her bottom, when all of sudden he grunted and separated her ass cheeks to slide his finger over the surface, drawing out the moment. He let out a low groan before he grazed her sex.
“Brett,” she moaned, wiggling her hips. She ached for him and his suggestions.
He slid his finger into her, then out. “Is this what you want?” Without waiting for her response, he slipped two fingers back inside her.
“I should be the one taking care of you. Her voice hiked up as she gave into the pleasure of his fingers.
“You showed me that you trust me. That means so much.” He stroked his fingers into her, his erection nudging her hip, and glistening at the top.
A tight coiling ache filled her body. His face was swollen and the bruises were darkening. The look of lust in his eyes undid her, making her body tingle. She moved to a kneeling position as he pumped his fingers into her.
“Lie down,” she whispered, placing her hands on his shoulders and pushing him backward onto the bed. “Let me.”
He let her take the lead, settling back against the pillows, one arm folded under his head. Watching her, he kept his hands down. “What should I do?”
“Nothing. Not yet at least.”
He was fully erect. Crystal clear liquid dripped from the head of his cock, and she bent down and took hold of him. She licked her tongue around, tasting him and wanting more.
Cory sucked his shaft into her mouth, holding him around the base, and enjoying the spasms that unfurled across his body, and the spread of chill bumps over his skin. His nipples puckered into hard peaks as his skin tightened. She could tell he was close. She released him as she climbed over his hips.
“Do you have a condom?”
Brett’s lips curled up at one corner. He held out his palm and she stared at the shiny blue packet. Taking it, she swiped her fingertips over his skin, and a jolt zinged up her arm. “Sure you don’t want some help?” he asked in a gravelly voice.
“I think I can do it.” She tore the pack and removed the circular disk of latex. She turned the condom over in her hand and gently held on to his shaft with trembling fingers.
“Grip me, like you mean it. I’m hardly fragile, baby.”
Oh, he’d proven that today, hadn’t he? His face was a mass of bruises and cuts, and lower she could make out the bruises on his ribs under the rippling muscle. She sucked in a breath on thinking about what he’d suffered because of her blockheaded impulsive streak.
She nodded and held his titanium shaft firmly, then rolled the condom down his length. She dug her knees along the side of his narrow hips, holding his fully-swathed cock up between her thighs. Lifting up, she swiped him across herself and a shiver unleashed over her skin. His hard body felt incredible. “I’m going to ride you until you come.”
On top of him, she began flexing her hips, finding that perfect combination of moving faster while taking him deeper. His eyes darkened into shades of green she’d known to exist only inside the pine forests that surrounded the ranch. But his eyes weren’t cool and shadowy. Flames were ready to burst from Brett’s gaze and singe her skin. Her body was on fire riding on top of this man. He squeezed her breasts, pinching her nipples between his fingers as he told her how beautiful she was, fucking his brains out.
Heat waves burned under her skin. She didn’t want this to end too soon and slowed the rolling motion of her hips, throwing her head back, and making her hair arc in the air. Droplets of perspiration flew from her face and strands of her long hair stuck to the sweat dripping down her back. She’d learned to ride stallions that could take the distance under a summer sun as long as she didn’t give in and let the beast’s power go to his incredibly gorgeous head. Damn. Her thoughts twisted, and the mercurial horse from her memory faded as the stud beneath her gripped her hips.
“Brett, I want to fuck you like nobody’s business.”
“Then hold on.” He began moving her, bending her body at just the right angle and…there.
Oh shit. He found the perfect spot. And not by mistake. He thrust his cock into her a little deeper, grazing her into a frenzied state of nail-raking and commanding her to move faster.
“Please,” she moaned. “Perfect.”
“That’s it. Baby, give it to me.”
The exquisite feel of him devoured her senses. In a rush of glowing light, her eyes rolled back into her head. Brett reached out for her fingers. He interlaced his with hers, pulling her upright. Opening her eyes, she refocused on him.
“Not yet. This isn’t over. I want you to come undone,” he said.
“Who says I’m bowing out?” She pressed her weight down on his cock and gripped his hips with her trembling thighs.
“Cowgirl, give me what you’ve got.” He flexed his hips upward at the same time she lowered her body.
Brett filled her as she pressed forward onto him, tightening her hold on his hands. Her muscles burned, contracted as she rose up and down on him, weaving pleasure into taut ribbons across her body. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, refusing to be swept away by the stream of aching emotions that filled her to the brink as she cantered on top of him. Grinding herself along his length, and squeezing herself all around him, she refused to back down or away from something this dangerous, something that threatened to blast her apart. This was their last night before she returned to school, and she’d not shy away from the man beneath her.
“Don’t lie to me. I see you’re the one coming undone,” she murmured with the growing explosion ready to overtake her and hurdle her over the brink.
“Baby, I’m there.” The sculpted muscles along his shoulders and arms bunched. He grunted partial words, then shuddered. They both were falling fast. His six-pack abs rippled into cords under her thighs. His whole body contracted, and then her name spilled from his delicious mouth. Not once, but several times. He gazed up at her, his hands resting on her waist.
“That was wild. Come here.” He opened his arms and she tumbled over his chest, her hair plastered to her forehead. She inhaled the scent of his skin, listening to the rapid beat of his heart, and closed her eyes, wanting this moment to never end.
CHAPTER 21
The memory of Cory's body up against his, made Brett shift in his seat, unable to find a comfortable position. Early this morning he’d kissed her before taking off for Dallas. He wouldn’t let her make him coffee when she asked, and he refused to shower, choosing to spend the last second he could with her underneath him as he drove himself deep into her sweetness. Their parting kiss hovered in his thoughts as the miles sped by. Her laughter, the way her eyes captured the light, had kept him from taking a deep breath and made leaving her damn near impossible.
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br /> During the trip toward the training facility, the feel of her mouth swam in his mind as he twisted the steering wheel in his hand. He had not mentioned goodbye. The word never crossed his lips. Hell no. Everything that went into their kiss spelled out how he’d miss her and the promise of I’ll see you soon.
Now, back at the training facility, he had to get his head on straight. One week to prepare and then he’d be playing in San Diego. Not too far for Cory to travel. He’d have plane tickets waiting for her by the end of the day. And a hotel suite reserved. He sat in the trainer’s office, an ice pack on his shoulder, and humming under his breath.
“What the hell happened to you?” Paul asked with his customary clipboard in hand. He scribbled notes, rarely cracked a smile this go round, and then abruptly walked over to Brett. Ripping off several pieces of tape, Paul stuck them to the side of the padded exam table, then glanced up. “Thought you were quitting idiotic behavior.”
“Would it make a difference if I said this time I’m not guilty of losing my head?”
“Everyone says that. This ain’t court.”
“Brothers taking out their frustration. Nothing much to tell.”
“Oh, shit. Even better. Tack that on your list to avoid in the future. Flex your foot.” Paul began taping his ankle that had been twisted in the scuffle. The trainer shouted out orders for other trainers to follow as more and more players showed up for practice. “You’re on the radar of the people upstairs.”
“How do you know?”
“Doesn’t matter. I just do. And you’d better get with the program, walk the straight and narrow. You want to play ball here next year or not?”
“If we go to the Super Bowl, I’m hoping I’ll be invited back.”
“Of course you would. But you gamble with the stakes like this on some sort of one-horse race? If this team doesn’t win the playoffs, there’s going to be a rash of trades with New York. Even New Jersey is eager to get a couple of our guys. The owners are tired of the piss-poor whore-dog reputation this team has managed to acquire. The wild parties, arrests, and now the press has begun to focus on that nonsense instead of how well the team is playing. It's gotta stop. You’d better decide which side of the fence you’re on. You read me?”
“Loud and clear. Thanks, I’m not going to do something stupid.”
“Looks like you opened a can a whoop-ass stupidity over the weekend.”
Shit, he wasn’t going to defend himself. In part, he’d invited Cory’s brothers’ wrath. He’d fucked up, living a crazy as hell lifestyle. He was done shooting from the hip and wasn’t about to make excuses to the McLemores or his trainer. Just as he desired to teach Cory to curb her waywardness, he was ready to make some real changes and plan for a future. On the drive back, he had plenty of miles in which to get his head together. It was time to make his move where Cory was concerned. Game on.
“Can you look at my shoulder? It’s burning.”
“How much ibuprofen are you on?
“None.”
“Shit, Brett. You are playing a crooked game with your body.”
“Look, I’m serious this time around. Ice. Anti-inflammatories. Exercises.”
“You gotta do the exercises, not talk about doing them. And take the meds. Damn, you’re more stubborn than a bull.” Paul grabbed a bottle off the shelf, then set it down, picked up another and lobbed it over to Brett. “Merry Christmas.”
“I’ve got Raquel coming out.” Brett caught and opened the bottle, then shook out two tablets onto his palm. He tossed them to the back of his throat, chasing them with a gulp of water from his bottle. “Thanks.”
“You going against the contract?”
Brett’s NFL contract required he be seen by the official team physical therapists in Dallas. Lots of players went to private doctors and physical therapists, but no one discussed it outright. A few years ago, players seeking second opinions were rampant. All of sudden the team doctors were having to battle second and third opinions, and the players were in limbo, getting haphazard treatment and being benched. The team management required immediate care to be delivered and followed. Players could get other opinions as long as they were being treated and getting postgame care within that crucial twenty-four hour window.
“I’m taking the fifth. I’ve been to the team doctors. I’m not going against their treatment. Besides, I’ve known her for years and she’s helped out during training camp.”
“Trust me, I’m well aware of Raquel’s talents. She’s damn good. You say she’s going to be in town?” Paul asked, his fingers stopped kneading the area of Brett’s shoulder. “Where’s she staying?”
“Probably at my house. She did the last time.” Brett lowered his arm.
“At your place? Are the two of you hooking up?” Paul came around the table and stood in front of him. Instead of writing notes as he usually did, he continued to stare at Brett.
“Nah. She’s like a sister. I know her from school. We were in some classes together. We’ve had some similar issues. Not a thing more.” He wasn’t about to delve into the fact that Raquel had dyslexia and they’d both been in high school in Dallas and now traded war stories about what life had been like growing up. They understood each other and could discuss what they’d learned about resources and groups that helped versus those that were a waste of time and money. Same thing with a couple of the women the press liked to tag him with. It wasn’t up to him to discuss their issues. “Why are you asking? You want her to come work here?”
“I was just curious.”
“She’s got her own practice.” Brett watched his trainer become sullen as he ripped more strips of tape.
“Not news. She and I talked and yeah, she helped me out plenty during training in Oxnard.”
“Do you want me to tell her something?”
Paul glanced down, shifting his weight. “Hell, I wouldn’t know what to say.”
“Raquel is seeing someone. I think.” Brett held up his hands. He didn’t know if he should tell Paul that Raquel had a new wife. And they were coming to his place straight from their Hawaiian honeymoon.
“Is it serious?” Paul asked.
“Yeah. From what she says it sounds serious. But talk to her if you want to find out more.”
“Might. When I see her. Thanks for the heads-up.”
During the offensive team meeting, Brett kept to himself. The usual player cliques were formed and he took a seat in the back corner, away from the party hogs. He plugged in his laptop and brought up the notes supplied by the offensive drill team’s assistant. During the layout of the schemes for plays, he typed key words to remember as the coaches broke apart the San Diego Knights’ defense and what to expect.
Brett fully intended to gain ground this game. Getting traded was not in the cards for this tight end. Not when he had a girl on the West Coast to keep tabs on. A trade to Chicago or worse, on the East Coast like New York or New Jersey would mean a long flight, not to mention that the spring training held up near Canada would be a nightmare.
Going into the full team meeting, Brett grabbed an icepack and two bottles of water. He sat in one of a few remaining seats. Mike was in back of him along with his crew of rowdy teammates.
“Good times last weekend?” Mike jabbed him in the side.
“The best,” he retorted. “Hear we’re supposed to be taking a stand against out of control happenings for a while.”
“I have no intention of toning down my style. I’ve got offers. This team doesn’t want me, then they, and whoever else has a problem, can kiss my ass.”
Brett exhaled. “Why not just reel it in for a couple of weeks? Things can change fast.”
“I appreciate where you’re coming from. But no. I don’t like being told what to do because it’s a PR thing. Who’s gonna be there for me if I get injured? Certainly not management. Short and simple: I do what I have to do to get by.”
“I guess we all do,” Brett said,
and held the other man’s gaze.
“We’re cool. You want to come hang out, just let me know. Heard you scored this weekend. In the big leagues. Even had to call in the reinforcements. That girl is wild in the sack, took on three guys at a time.”
“You got the wrong story,” Brett growled, his chest growing tight.
“Don’t try and cover your tracks with me. I saw the pictures.”
“Seriously, I was with one girl. All weekend. Are you pulling my chain?”
“Hector, you’re into Facebook. Hook me up.” He swung his gaze back to Brett. “Every picture has a story to tell. What’s yours?”
The linebacker tossed his cell across and Mike caught it. Grunted at the image on the screen, then held it out in front of Brett’s face. “That’s you, isn’t it?”
A photograph of him in the lobby of the hotel when he’d said goodbye to Cory’s family and friends. Then another with Ashley and her hand on his arm. It made it look like they were intimately conversing. He wasn’t directly facing the camera of whoever shot the photograph. Then more of Ashley and other players. He scrolled down. Shit. A whole montage of her with several players. All naked and some of the men weren’t facing the camera. Just their bare asses and underneath a couple, he’d been tagged. Fuck.
He tossed the phone back across the table to Hector and met Mike’s eyes, “Hey man, only the ones with my clothes on,” he said in a strained voice.
“Sure thing, big dog.” Mike laughed.
“You two ladies want to take it outside, or shut your traps and look up here?” One of the assistant defense coaches shouted from the front.
Brett nodded, adjusting his laptop screen, and opened up the meeting notes. An hour and a half later, it was time to run through the first drill on the field. He ruminated over what he’d seen online. The page hadn’t even belonged to anyone he recognized, but he’d sent a text message to himself to remember the Facebook page of the girl who posted the photographs. On his way to the lockers, he phoned his agent.
“Max,” he barked. “How long does it take to get photographs taken down?”
