"First, I want her mother," I reply, growling as five years of desire and passion build beyond the breaking point. I scoop Whitney up in my arms and carry her to the room that is obviously hers, both of us tearing at the clothes separating us. "I want you."
Chapter 17
Whitney
We tumble onto my bed, and I'm glad that Mom had bought me a queen-sized mattress back when I was in high school. It's still not large enough for Troy, but it's better than a narrow twin-sized mattress, that's for sure.
Troy twists while we fall, making sure he doesn't crush me under his weight. I'd read his player stats carefully when we watched the game, and I know that he’s at two hundred and thirty-two pounds, and under his shirt, I swear every bit of it is muscle. We're kissing, our lips bruising each other with so much intensity, and I bite on his neck, desperate to taste more. He groans and yanks at my t-shirt, which parts with a purr like a zipper, and suddenly, his hands are on my back, our skin touching again after too many years.
Troy stops, gasping and staring at me with hunger in his eyes, but there's still that self-control that I knew from last time. This time, though, I'm having none of it. "You want me?"
"You know I do," Troy growls. "I've wanted you every day for five years."
"Then take what you want," I challenge him. I may have been an innocent virgin when we first made love, but no longer. I know what I want, and I know what turns me on. And what turns me on about Troy is his strength, which even when he's restrained, is massive and undeniable. But I want to see more, I want to feel at least a taste of the . . . what was it Lorenzo called him? Oh yeah, the gladiator. I want to feel the strength of the gladiator inside Troy. "I can take it."
He grins and reaches for his shirt, unbuttoning it quickly before pulling it off, although I hear a seam give way even as he does, not that it matters at this second. Instead, my breath is taken away as I look at his torso. If he'd been strong and muscular before, he was heavy with thick muscle now, but still just as lean, his arms corded with thick knots of powerful flesh. His shoulders look like mountains and his chest muscles... hot wetness fills the space between my thighs, like my body knows that I'm giving it what it needs after a too-long starvation.
Troy pulls me up to my knees, and we're face to face, kissing as he unhooks my bra and peels away the rest of my t-shirt, my nipples already hard and aching as we pull into another embrace, unwilling or perhaps unable, after so long, to stop the kisses.
We're both gasping for air as we break apart again, and I tremble. Troy looks down and grins, a flash of his old cockiness coming up. "Well, that's going to be convenient."
"What?" I ask, reaching forward and grabbing the waistband of his pants. "That you're wearing a pair of beltless pants with an elastic waist?"
"Actually, I was referring to the fact that you're wearing a pair of shorts," Troy says, reaching forward and running his hands under the waistband, cupping my ass and massaging it. "And a thong? You have matured."
"I wouldn't say mature," I tease, cupping his cock through his pants as I lean forward and kiss his chest. "More open in celebrating my sexuality, for sure."
I kiss my way down his body, relishing the light tang to his skin, the sweetness of his sweat. Troy's hands never stop and I reach his waistband, pausing to look up at him. "Last time, did we do this?"
"I have faint memories of it, but to be honest, it’s all one gigantic, perfect blur," Troy says, his hand busy. I tense as I feel his fingers slide over me, and I've still got my shorts on, the waistband pushed halfway down my ass as his forearm emerges from it like a new limb. "This though . . . I could never forget this."
I pull Troy's pants down, and his cock slaps me in the face, bouncing off my cheek while I moan. Troy's fingers slip inside me so easily, our kisses have turned me on so much, and I grasp his cock, pumping it while I lean down and lick his heavy, perfect balls. Troy's fingers stop when I suck one of them into my mouth, rolling it around with my tongue as I drive him crazy. He's twitching, and the drop of clear precum that emerges is a tasty treat that I feast on before letting him pop out of my mouth.
“Whitney, it's been... it's been a long time for me."
"Oh?" I ask teasingly, sitting back and pushing my shorts down. "So you think you're too short-triggered to deal with this?"
I turn around, presenting myself to him in a way we'd never done before. I remember that much for sure. Not that it hasn't been in my dreams ever since though. "Think you can fulfill a fantasy?"
I lower my head and breathe carefully through my nose while I hear him pull his shorts down, then the ripping sound of a piece of plastic, and the sound of him rolling the condom down his cock. I'm desperate when he comes back on the bed, his fingers slipping inside me and leaving me moaning with need. "Don't tease me, Troy. Not this time."
"I'm not teasing, my love," Troy says, and his last words unleash another wave of desire in me. Troy lines himself up, and in one thrust, he's buried inside me, the place that I've needed him for five years, my heart, soul and body finally complete. He grunts as his hips slap into mine, my ass quivering at the power in his hips.
"Oh, shit," I gasp, driven face-first into the pillow at the head of my bed. "Oh, fuck yes."
Troy doesn't respond, pulling out before driving in again, not pausing at all before he's hammering me harder and harder, driving my body into the mattress and taking the breath out of my body. Pure pleasure explodes over and over inside me. I'm crying out, my body clenching as I feel an orgasm rushing on me, but before I can, Troy's hand smacks my ass sharply, not hard enough to really hurt, but enough to cut through the red haze of desire.
"You come when I come," he grunts, pausing inside me. "Promise me that."
"I . . . I promise," I hoarsely whisper, my throat raw from the moans and crying out. "I swear."
Troy runs a tender hand down my spine, and my heart melts again as he pulls himself halfway out before starting again, slower and more sensuously. I thought I was in the throes of pleasure before, but this new speed builds me higher and higher, never enough to push me over the edge, but keeping me trembling, my nipples brushing against the blanket underneath my sweat covered body, Troy's hands holding my waist not too tightly, just enough that I am fully under his control, where I want to be and where I belong.
"When you're ready," Troy says shakily, and he speeds up again, rapid-fire thrusts that pound into me, both of us unable to hold back any longer. Blackness threatens the edge of my vision, and I can't feel my fingers or toes as Troy's cock sends lightning shooting from my toes to my brain, a loop of erotic electricity that builds on itself, higher and higher until I can't think, but can only feel and react. My pussy clenches, and I shatter, crashing from the mountaintop that Troy has built for me, screaming into the pillow as the largest orgasm of my life rips through me. My breath runs out, but still the moment never ends, my brain going to static, but before I surrender to the darkness, I feel Troy's fingers grip my waist tightly, and he shudders, his orgasm pushing me the last little bit into blissful, wonderful unconsciousness.
I don't know how long we're out, but when I come to, he has me nestled in his arms, just like we did our first time.
"Thank you. For forgiving me. For understanding. But most of all, for loving me."
"Without you, there is no love in my life," Troy whispers in reply, kissing my neck again. "With you, there is sunshine and happiness."
I kiss him back, stroking his cheek. "I know this might hurt, but can you wait a bit before we tell Laurie who you are? I want you to get to know her first, and her to know you. I don't want to just drop this bomb into her life. She's already going to have enough to deal with since Lorenzo’s going back to Italy."
Troy nods and smiles. "Of course. I love you. And I bet if you give me a few hours, I'm going to love Laurie, too."
I nestle into his chest again and hum contentedly. "You know that it’s going to be kind of difficult, but I can live with it."
"What's that?"
&
nbsp; "Away games. Not having you in my arms every night like I've dreamed of for years. Now that I have you back, I'm going to be greedy about that."
Troy laughs and kisses my head. "First, I have something else to worry about."
"What's that?"
"Your mother's going to kill me when she finds out we messed around in her house."
"She'll deal with it. Especially when she understands why. I don't ever want to be apart from you again."
"I'm not going anywhere."
Chapter 18
Troy
"You're what?"
I'm sitting in General Manager Larry Kardarelli's office, a place that I don't really like as it looks too corporate, and not enough like something connected with a football team. I'm a football player, not an executive, and I've done pretty well in playing so far, leaving the details of money and that to other people. I'm focused on the field and on making sure that if I play right, the money will come.
"Troy, here are the facts. The third pre-season game was a nightmare for us. We lost a wide receiver and our starting right tackle to season ending injuries. I'll be honest. I don't know if Mark's ever going to come back, and if he does, we might need to look at moving him. After that knee injury of his, a lot of guys lose a step."
"I’ve got that. I fully understand. But why are you looking at trading me? I've been kicking ass in the pre-season. Or did you forget the game Saturday night? Three sacks against a starting offense is the sort of stuff that gets guys selected to the Pro Bowl if they repeat it often enough."
"You’re having a great pre-season, but you also know that our linebacker corps is already the strongest in the league," Kardi says. "You add something, but right now, we need a right tackle and a wideout more than we need a fifth good linebacker."
"And if one of the guys goes down? What do you do then? Whistle for hope from the Lone Ranger?"
The man shrugs. "You're good, no doubt about it, but we can adapt. Besides, I thought you'd be happy about this. You stay here, and the best you can look forward to is splitting reps with the starters for at least another year. You go somewhere else, and you get a starting slot pretty much straightaway. No team is going to give us what we want without having a need for a damn good young linebacker. And if I can, I will get you to a team with a 3-4. I know you've played that since high school, and you're more cut out for it anyway. But we'll get you to a team with a need."
"Yeah, the guys sitting in the cellar come December always need linebackers," I reply, and yeah, I'm a little pissed off. "The Hawks have been one of the premier teams in the conference for a while now. And it's not just because we've got some stars. We've got a good team."
"Who do you think put that team together?" Kardi asks, sitting forward. "Let me clue you in. That man was me, and it's been that way for the past decade. I'm the one who makes the final personnel decisions about this team, and yes, I do take the coaches' opinions into consideration, but if I need to, I'll cut, trade or sign a contract for anyone that I think can help this team. Now, if you think I'm a bastard about this, you should count yourself lucky that you're not playing for someone else. A lot of times, you wouldn’t know until you actually got traded. Some teams have a fucking real estate agent on retainer whose whole job is to help guys clear out their houses and sell whatever they need to get sold."
"So why are you being so generous, then? I mean, you don't even have a destination in mind, you said. You just said you're shopping me around. What gives?"
The officious prick shrugged. "I figure it differently. I figure, if you know you're on the trade block, you're going to play pissed off. You're going to want to look good, because you know if you don't, we'll just cut you come next pre-season, and you can take your chances on the last year of a rookie contract and a reputation as a crybaby. You play your heart out until you get traded, though, and you go to a new team with a good rep, a starting slot, and go into the last year of your rookie contract in a strong position to negotiate a fat new contract, or at least get franchise tagged for a year and make good money. Now, what's it going to be?"
I nod and get up. "You know your answer already. You want to give me a reason to play hard? I already had that. Now you're just giving me more emotional content."
Kardi nods, then scribbles something on a sheet of paper next to him.
I shake my head. “Thanks for the heads up. Does the team mind if I still take tomorrow off to go to that wedding I asked about a month ago?"
Kardarelli waves dismissively. Football players with strange ideas are pretty much par for the course. I mean, one of my best buddies on the team currently has a collection of UFO 'inside information' DVDs that covers an entire wall of his living room. Another's into some wacky religion that lets him eat all the pork he can get his hands on, but he can only eat rabbit on Mondays. You try fueling a three-hundred-pound body on rabbit right before a Monday night game.
Either way, I'm small potatoes. "No problem. It's a garbage game, anyway. Hell, you want the time off, I'll ask the Coach to keep you off the dress list for the game. We've got enough guys who need to earn a spot on the roster still that you're just going to be standing around anyway."
I consider it for a moment, then nod. Might as well take what I can get from the team while I can. "You know what? I'd appreciate it. I guess I should wait until I tell her, but it seems I have a daughter. I'd like to get to know her, if it's all the same to you."
Kardarelli taps his pencil on his desk blotter, then nods. "Fine. Take the game day off. But come week one of the regular season, I don't give a fuck if you're getting married and you've got Elton John coming in to sing a revue of The Lion King for the reception. You're suiting up against the Phantoms."
"Deal. See you."
"Push me higher! Higher!"
"All right, Laurie, hold tight!"
We're in the park, and Laurie and I are playing on the swing set. This little girl loves to swing, I know that for sure, and even though she can pump her legs like a champ, she adores it most when I push her. Whitney, who got tired after whirling her around for a couple of minutes on the merry-go round, is sitting on the edge of the sand pit that surrounds the swings, watching us.
"Don't go too high, honey! You could fall off!"
"Troy will catch me!"
"I'm glad you think I'm Superman, but I'm just a normal person."
“I don’t like Superman!” Laurie calls back as she giggles. "You're Thor with short hair."
"Fits better under the helmet. I’d love to carry that hammer of his during the game. Make my job a lot easier," I laugh, pushing one last time. "Okay, baby girl, you pump on your own for a few minutes. I'm going to sit down with your mama."
“Okay, but we have to go to the monkey bars soon!” Laurie orders, and I shake my head, sitting down next to Whitney. She's laughing silently, giving me a knowing look.
"I wonder where she gets her bossy side from," I tease, nudging Whitney with my elbow.
"Her Aunt Dani, for sure," Whitney replies. "Who do you think taught her all the comic book characters she knows about? They don't have Marvel Comics in Italy—well, at least they're not easy to find."
I nod, at peace with the idea that Dani knew about Whitney and about Laurie long before I did. We'd talked on the phone the day before, in between a team lifting session and my evening video review for the week one Phantoms game, and we worked it out. I don't know if she has figured out that Whitney and I are back together, or seem to be headed that way. "Hey, speaking of Dani, have you told her?"
"In general or in detail?" Whitney says in a low voice. "Because you don't want to know what she's told me in detail."
"Oh, I know," I say. "That woman was a regular Penthouse Forum when she was an undergrad. At least until she met Pete again, from what I know. I don't want details of what they do. I've had my hands in between Pete's legs too much for comfort in that area."
Whitney laughs and slaps me on the thigh. "And you say Dani's bad? Troy Wood, I never!"
"Yes you have," I tease back, and lean in. "In fact, maybe some time soon, we can."
Whitney purrs and gives me a sexy little smile. "Maybe after we tell Laurie that you and I are seeing each other. I was thinking after the wedding reception, that way Laurie won't spoil the surprise for Dani and Pete."
“Monkey bars!" Laurie calls, dragging up a huge cloud of dust and sand as she drags her feet to slow down. "Mama, are you coming too?"
"Of course," Whitney says as I heave myself to my feet. "Think you can give me a hand up?"
I pull Whitney up easily, and for a moment, she's in my arms again, her palms on my chest, and we're looking into each other's eyes before I let her go, both of us smiling to chase after our little girl.
My daughter, I think as Whitney scrambles up the jungle gym that leads to a slide with Laurie and follows her down. My daughter. The words still clang around in my head as I think of them, and I'm laughing as Whitney thumps down in the sand, a cloud rising from her butt as her feet lose grip on the ground from the low slide. Laurie laughs along with us, and we're soon all playing on the monkey bars until Laurie's gasping for air and waving off. "I'm done! I need water!"
We go to the water fountain, where she soaks her face along with taking deep drinks. We're near the duck pond, and I see some ducks on the water, so I walk over to the vending machine the town keeps for the ducks and buy a cupful of food. "Hey, Laurie, want to take a rest and feed the ducks?"
"Cool!" Laurie yells, and she runs over, eagerly taking a seat next to me. The food floats, so we can toss it out onto the water where the ducks swim after it. "Hey?"
I look at her while Whitney takes a seat on the other side of her . . . our daughter. I exchange looks with her over top of Laurie's head, and she smiles. This has been a great day.
“What's it like being a pro football player?"
"There are a lot of good things, and a lot of bad things," I say. "On the good side, I make a lot of money, and I love playing football. It helps a lot with my inner demons."
Tempted: A Bad Boy Next Door Romance Page 46
