The Firsts Series Box Set

by M. J. Fields

  “Sorry, Lou, Keeka thought there was a leak in the shower and called me over to see if I could fix it. She ran out to get some supplies. I should probably text her and let her know it works fine.”

  I wish I could see Lou’s face; to see if that line Trucker came up with worked.

  “Let me guess; you decided to try to cook bacon and left the damn burner on, too.”

  “Sure did. I’ll make sure to air the place out.”

  “So, that’s not Keeka’s toes under the shower curtain in there?”

  “Nope. Logan came to help.”

  “You might want to let Logan know he’d better take that red polish off his toes before he hits the showers at practice. The boys might start to think he’s a little funny.”

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “Will do, Lou.”

  “Mmmhmm,” Lou huffs

  When I hear the door shut, I peek out from behind the curtain as Trucker looks back and smiles.

  “One more thing,” I hear Lou say and pull the curtain shut again. “Tell Keeka that Reda’s kid is sick and she wants to trade shifts with her.”

  “I’ll let her know.”

  I hear the door creak like it’s shutting.

  “Hey, Lou. I bet she’d love a Saturday off so she could catch a game.”

  “Bet you’re wrong, boy. She makes a ton of cash on game days.”

  “Ever think of having a guest bartender on a slow night to increase business?”

  “What makes you think I’d want your ornery ass behind my bar after last night?”

  Shit, shit, shit, I think again.

  “Sorry about that, Lou. Won’t happen again.”

  “Better not, or I’ll have to choose blood over team.”

  “Understood,” Trucker says with nothing but respect in his voice.

  “I like you, Cohen. Don’t make me regret that.”

  Game changer

  Trucker

  Sunday, after I leave her place, I spend the entire day with Logan and some of the guys, watching recordings of NC States season so far. Our record is 3-3. Theirs is 4-2. We need to beat them.

  When Ray sends me the moon at eight, I call her.

  She answers, “Hi,” like she always does, and I ask if she wants company. She laughs and tells me she won’t be great company.

  “You’re always great company.”

  She sighs. “Well, I have a visitor for probably a week so.”

  “Your mom’s friend?”

  “Um, nope. My … friend.”

  “Thought you didn’t have any,” I say, flopping back on my bed, waiting for her to give me the final blow off.

  “Well, this isn’t actually a friend, but it visits every now and again.”

  I take a deep breath before blowing it out. “Ray, just out with it, okay? Truth.”

  “I’m menstruating.”

  That’s fucking not what I wanted to hear, but it’s better than what I was thinking.

  “So, maybe that’s why I’ve been so sensitive?” she whispers.

  “Girls do that, I guess.”

  “Most are more regular. I don’t think I’ve had mine in a few months.”

  “That’s different, right?”

  “That’s me. Always has been.” She sighs again.

  “We’re watching the last tape, man. Get your ass out here,” Logan yells to me.

  She laughs. “Logan?”

  “Aka my wifey.”

  “You better go do your thing.”

  “Ray, we good?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  It certainly doesn’t feel like we are. But she’s clearly not too torn up over it, so fuck if I will be.

  I push myself up off my bed. “All right then. Talk to you whenever you’re—”

  “Done bleeding?”

  That grosses me out and irritates me.

  “I guess.”

  “Hey, Trucker?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I hope you have a great day.”

  The whole week, I get the sun in the morning and the moon at night, same as last week. This week, though, she sends me an emoji of a football everyday right before practice. By Thursday, the sweetness of it has worn down, and I’m done with the bullshit.

  The guys are having a party, and I’m turning down ass left and right.

  I don’t know what the fuck is going on, what she wants, but if it’s a friendship via text, I need to know that. Then I need to back out of it, because she’s taking up too much headspace.

  I see the sun, and I think of her smile. I see the moon, and I think about the fact that I haven’t fallen asleep in her bed in too damn long. I see the football, and I think, what the fuck?

  I roll my shoulder for the hundredth time to get a paw off me, walk into my room, and grab my keys off the dresser. Then I push through a room full of ass and testosterone and head toward the door.

  “Where you going, man?” Logan asks, stepping away from the chicks rallying for his attention.

  “Hey, Links,” they call after him.

  “Bros before hoes,” he yells back then looks a little shocked by his words. Yep, he’s drunk.

  “I’ll be your favorite ho, Links,” one calls out from the crowd.

  He shrugs. “Guess that wasn’t as offensive as it sounded coming out of my mouth.”

  “Or as offensive as what you’ll be putting in one of theirs.” I give him a bro hug. “Going to clear my mind.”

  “Good. Make sure you get back in time to fly out.”

  We bump fists, and then I head out the door.

  Sitting at the bar, Reda fills my third Jack on the rocks. I still haven’t gotten enough courage to walk out, take fifteen steps to her door, knock, see her pretty face, and … the end.

  When Gary walks in, I look down at my drink then toss it back. When I look back up, Reda is standing there.

  “You all set?”

  The way she smiles after she says it tells me that she knows about the thing Ray and I have going on. The way her eyes then shift toward Gary tells me she knows there is no love lost there.

  I nod, pushing the glass forward and my stool backward. Then I throw a twenty on the bar and thank her for her hospitality.

  “See you at the fundraiser.” She winks.

  “The what?” I ask as I push the stool back in.

  “Lou said it was your idea. I hope you’re ready to bartend for a cause.”

  “I guess he’ll tell me when I see him.”

  As I’m walking out the door, she says, “Kick ass on Saturday, son.”

  “Yeah, Trucker, kick ass,” Gary yells.

  “Your ass,” I mumble as I walk out the door.

  I take a deep breath and pull my phone from my pocket to send her a message.

  Trucker

  Busy?

  I watch the dots jumping on the screen, and then they stop.

  “Not really,” I hear her yell down.

  I look up and see her sitting on the ledge with a sketchbook in her hands. I want to tell her to get off the damn ledge, but I’m not sure where we stand, so instead, I ask, “Mind if I come up?”

  She stands up and looks down. “Is it locked?”

  “Will you get off the damn ledge?”

  When she jumps back, I try the door then yell up, “It’s unlocked.”

  “Come on up. I’ll be down in a second.”

  I jog up the stairs and see the door at the end of the hall is open. Curious to know what it’s like up there, I decide to head up.

  The stairs leading up are old and rickety, and narrow as hell. It’s more like a ladder than stairs and probably not safe, but far better than the fucking ledge.

  Topside, I glance around and see there are potted plants, all dead, littering the rooftop and one resin chair that appears to be holding pages she’s torn from her sketchpad.

  I hear her walking from around the corner and rubbing her hands on her pants. Then I hear her whisper, “Dammit.”

  When she sees me,
she jumps and looks down like she’s disappointed, and then she looks around.

  “I was coming down.” She scrubs her hands on the sides of her pants again.

  “Figured I’d check out what it is that brings you up here.” I look around.

  “Well”—she points to some of the plants—“I was looking for a hobby and tried gardening.”

  “Didn’t work out, huh?”

  She shakes her head and holds her hands up. “If I knew you were coming over, I wouldn’t be such a mess.”

  I walk toward her slowly. “You don’t look like a mess.”

  “Lead smudges.”

  “Signs you’re an artist. Like sweat and dirt are to a football player. No big deal.”

  I stop in front of the chair and look down. I see drawings of me.

  “I wish you wouldn’t.”

  I reach down and pick one up. It’s just my upper body. Behind me is a football with the letters NFL on it. What’s not me is the cross tattoo she’s drawn on my arm.

  “You into ink?”

  “You spoke of God the other day. He’s clearly on your side and in your heart, so I thought …” She shrugs then wipes her nose, leaving a black smudge across it.

  “You draw that for me, and I’ll get it done right after I finish the season.”

  She looks up and cocks her head. I reach up slowly, hating that I feel like I can’t touch her now. One fight, one disagreement, and I feel so fucking disconnected to the only woman I have ever felt connected to.

  She scowls as she reaches out and takes my hand, placing it on her ear.

  That one gesture makes me feel like I can fucking breathe again.

  I scratch behind her ear, and she closes her eyes as she inhales like she’s feeling the same. Then she says my name at the same time I say hers.

  We both look at each other, and again speak at the same time.

  I say, “If you want this to be done, say it.”

  And she says, “Just because I’m bleeding doesn’t mean you can’t come over.”

  “Jesus, Ray.” I wipe the smudge off her nose. “That’s not why I wasn’t.”

  I stop and look down into her eyes. “What do you want?”

  She shakes her head back and forth.

  “It’s not that difficult a question. What. Do. You. Want?”

  She slugs me in the chest with her palm. “To be happy!”

  “Do I make you happy?”

  “When you’re happy, yes.”

  “I’m fucking happy, Ray!”

  She tries to hold back a smile.

  “What?” I demand.

  “Good.” She laughs and releases my wrist. “Good.” She nods. “Good.” She wraps her arms around me and hugs me.

  Resting my chin on her head, I look at the drawings. “You’re a little obsessed with me, huh?”

  “What?” She laughs.

  “All those pictures Ray. You’re a little, wow, you know?”

  She shoves me lightly and looks up.

  I can’t help cracking a smirk. “Care to explain?”

  She shrugs and looks down at them, seeming to contemplate what to say. “You’re smiling in every one of them.” She looks up at me, a slight V between her dark brows. “You weren’t smiling last time we talked.”

  “You don’t know that. We were on the phone.”

  “I do know it, and so do you. Trucker, I enjoy every moment we’ve spent together, but I know we’re unbalanced. I’m gaining so much of what I lacked for all those years. It’s unfair of me and—”

  I grab the back of her neck and pull her into me. “Ray, shut the hell up.”

  As soon as my lips touch hers, I get the sweet burst, the exhale. Then she knots her hands in my hair, and I grab her ass, lifting her. Soft, petite legs are wrapped around me.

  With my lips pressed to hers, I tell her, “You gotta tell me what you want, Ray. Please.”

  Gripping my hair tighter, she looks deeper into my eyes. “I want you.”

  “You got me.” I lean forward, pushing my lips harder against her.

  “I. Want. You,” she whispers.

  I lean back to see it in her eyes—the words her sweet breath whispered to me.

  My heart beats faster, so fast I swear I can hear it. God knows I can feel it

  She unwraps her legs from around my waist and slides down my body. “I want you, Trucker. And if you think it won’t mess with your game—”

  “It won’t mess with a damn thing, Ray,” I cut her off before she can overthink it.

  She nods, releasing my hair as she steps back, turns arounds, and then walks toward the stairs.

  I watch her walk away without looking back, without hesitation, and then I do what any man in their right mind would do.

  I follow her.

  “Give me a minute?” she asks when I shut the apartment door behind me.

  I push out the words that seem to be stuck in my throat. “Of course.”

  I watch as she walks into her bathroom and shuts the door. Then I look around, trying to think of something, anything I can do to make this special for her.

  “Think, Trucker, fucking think,” I whisper.

  I walk to the door and reopen it, making my way back to the door that leads to the rooftop. I open it, climb the steps, and then step outside into the crisp, fall, evening air.

  I see one pot of flowers that have just a couple still alive and run over to pick them. Then I hurry back to the door, down the stairs, and into her apartment.

  I stop when I see her, and without turning away, I shut the door behind me and lock it.

  She’s completely naked, lying on her side on the bed. Her long, black hair is freed from its braid, covering her breasts, her nipples poking through the strands. Her eyes are darker than normal as she watches me.

  I hold out the flowers and walk toward her. “These are for you.”

  She smiles with her lips and her eyes. “Thank you.”

  When I hand them to her, I realize not only are the roots attached, but so is a clump of potting soil.

  I yank them back before any of the soil gets on her sheets. “I’ll just put them over in the sink.”

  Still smiling, she nods.

  When my back is to her, she tells me, “I’m not, you know … anymore.”

  After setting the half-ass attempt at romance in the sink, I turn around. “Your friend.”

  A small blush kisses her cheeks as she nods.

  “Wouldn’t have mattered.”

  I pull my shirt over my head and toss it on the floor while I kick off my sneakers and watch her look me over with more appreciation than I have ever seen.

  “Do you have any idea how sexy you are to me?” I ask, unbuttoning my jeans and pushing them to the floor with my boxers.

  She’s looking at my cock, her lower lip between her teeth. She nods.

  Sliding in next to her, I reach to touch her cheek and pull her to me as I kiss her softly. “Gonna go slow.”

  “Not too slow,” she says as she kisses me back.

  “Gonna take it easy.” I kiss her cheek then down her neck.

  “Why start now?” Her voice hitches as I lick across her nipple.

  “I want this to be everything you ever dreamed it would be.” I continue to kiss her neck as I pull her leg over my hip.

  “It already is,” she says on an exhale.

  I reach between us and stroke my cock against her hot, wet pussy. “I fucking love your body,” I groan as I continue coating my cock with her heat.

  “Show me how much,” she pants out as she rubs against me.

  “Whatever you want, Ray.” I push the head of my cock into the tightest, hottest pussy I have ever felt.

  “I want it all,” she whimpers.

  “It may hurt, Ray.”

  “I know you’ll make it feel better.”

  “Ray …” I growl as she pushes her heat farther down my cock.

  “Please, Trucker, please,” she begs.

  I grab her c
hin and lift so I can see her eyes, because she is so fucking worked up I know damn well she won’t tell me if it hurts, but she won’t be able to hide it if I’m looking at her.

  Inch by inch, I take it slow, and it takes everything I have not to drive it home. The noises she makes, the begging, the way she pushes against me, rolls her hips, and kisses me give no indication of pain or displeasure. It’s all lust, need, and hunger.

  When she holds her breath, I know I’m about to take something from her that can never be given back. Take something that will forever be mine. Take something she gives willingly. Something that no motherfucker will ever have.

  The possessive nature I have only felt with her from the moment I saw her takes ahold of me.

  I roll her onto her back, lean back on my heels, and then pull her down the bed. I watch her eyes as I rub her clit, making her chest rise and fall faster, her breaths becoming ragged. Her little sounds are needy.

  “This is mine, Ray,” I growl as I look down at half my cock in her pussy. “Mine.”

  I drive into her, taking her virginity and losing my fucking soul at the same damn time.

  “Fuck, baby,” I groan, halting any movement deeply inside her.

  “I want more.” Her voice quivers.

  I pull back.

  “More, Trucker, please more.”

  I thrust into her fully, watching her face as her eyes widen and she holds her breath. Holding myself over her with one hand, I rub her cheek, place my lips against hers, and whisper, “Ray, breathe.”

  Her quivering breath exhales against my lips, and I breath it in as I slowly pull out almost fully.

  “You okay?”

  “More,” she pants.

  I dive deeply into her again, and her breath releases immediately, with it, her whisper, “More.”

  “Fuck … yes.” I slam into her.

  “More!” she cries out.

  With each thrust, she breathes out the word “more.” Each request is granted, giving her what she wants while I take what I need.

  When she begins to move her hips to meet mine, I use every ounce of willpower I have to stop my need to come. Because, in each thrust, each exhale of breath she expels, each look she gives me, each time she begs for “more,” the need to give and take, the pounding in my chest, the changes I feel inside are far more fulfilling than a twenty second release.