Completely unaware of her inner turmoil, Chris bent his head to her neck. While she knew it would be totally smart of her to push him away, she couldn’t help herself. She leaned back and bit her lip against the moan that threatened to escape when his mouth closed over her earlobe.
In the hall, an obnoxious pre-programmed ringtone sounded. Thorgerson stopped, right in front of the door, and made a noise of disgust. “Damn hallways...can never get a good signal…”
“Oh. No.”
Chris shushed her just as the door opened. He slowly guided her through the darkness, ducking behind the equipment locker just as the lights came back on.
This cannot be happening. Maggie wanted to melt into the floor. What if she really did cause some kind of stupid scandal? What would Tommy say? What would mom say? She stiffened as Thorgerson paced close to the netting, and Chris tapped her should. Thorgerson stood with his back to the door, ranting to whoever was on the other end of the line about what he’d agreed to pay the catering company. Maggie and Chris slowly crept to the exit and Chris eased the door handle down so they could slip out unnoticed. He didn’t close it all the way, so it wouldn’t make a noise. Then he turned and took Maggie’s hand. He held her hand. The roughness of his fingers under hers jolted her stomach. He pulled her to the nearest exit and they slipped onto the street.
“Oh. My god.” She pressed a hand to her throat, half laughing, half choking on the cold night air. “I’m shaking, look.”
And she was, with fear and excitement, she had to admit, wild levels of arousal. Chris laughed and pulled her close, his head descending for a kiss before she put her hand to his chest. “This isn’t exactly the place.”
“You’re right.” He let go of her and ran a hand over his short, dirty-blond hair. “Why blow such a close call?”
“Exactly.” She stood there, looking back at him as his hopeful blue eyes betrayed the confidence of his smirk, and made her decision before she could chicken out. “So, we’d better get a cab.”
He took her hand again and pulled her down the sidewalk, to the row of cabs idling at the curb, waiting for fares to emerge from the sports bar across the street. He held the door for her and slid in beside her, his leg brushing hers. The silky fabric of his suit pants raised goosebumps on her leg.
“Where we going?” the driver asked, looking from Chris to Maggie and back in the review mirror.
“Uh...” Chris shrugged and glanced over at her. “My place, I guess?”
“That’s fine.” It was so embarrassing, having the “your place or mine?” conversation in front of a stranger. Not that it happened often, due both to her private cars and lack of sex life. She didn’t listen to the address Chris gave—she made a snap decision that this was a one-time occurrence. There would be no, “I was just in the neighborhood,” cell calls from outside his house at eleven on a Friday. One night, then she would have her stupid crush out of her stupid system.
The car pulled away from the curb, and Chris’s hand fell on Maggie’s bare knee, his fingertips swirling over her skin. She leaned back against the seat, still pleasantly buzzing from the endorphins of an averted disaster, and silently contemplated what she would do if he moved his hand higher. She’d never thought she was one of those Taxicab Confessions people who would get it on in front of God and everyone in the backseat, but she’d also never thought she would let her libido win over her common sense when it came to business, either. Going home with Chris was a stupid, reckless choice.
The ride seemed to take forever, with Chris’s fingertips skimming slowly over her knee, sending red-hot awareness through her veins. She practically bolted from the car when they pulled to a stop, and Chris seemed just as eager to get inside, slapping a wad of bills into the driver’s hand before he ever heard how much the ride had cost. Opening the sleek glass doors with a key card, he ushered her through the empty lobby and into an elevator. No sooner were the doors closed than his mouth was on her neck and his hands were all over her, her dress separating her skin from his palms in a way that made her loathe clothing. She swayed on her feet, falling against the wall, and he stepped closer, planting a foot between her expensive, uncomfortable shoes.
The electronic chime alerted them before the doors opened, and he lifted his head just long enough to pull her out of the elevator with him. She blinked in the dim hallway. The walls were papered in dark olive, and copper sconces directed soft amber light upward on either side of a black steel door. He opened it with his card and turned on the lights before gesturing her inside.
She supposed she should have expected something fancy. His current contract had been very generous, and he’d been playing long enough to have raised a bank balance considerably. Maybe it was just the casual, everyman way he presented, but she’d expected a two-bedroom apartment with beanbag chairs, not a luxury loft with leather sofas and an ultra-modern fireplace. She had to close her mouth as she stepped inside. “Wow.”
“Yeah, I think the decorators did a nice job spending my money.” He shut the door and crossed to the kitchen. A long counter with barstools served as the demarcation between the living room and the open kitchen. “Can I get you a beer?”
Frowning, she turned from the high, arched windows that held a spectacular view of the Grand Rapids waterfront. Two seconds ago, he’d been just dying to get his hands on her, and now he was slowing down for a drink? “Sure, I guess that would be fine.”
He smiled as he popped the tops off two longneck bottles. “If I’m going to be truthful, I have to admit, I’m dying to kiss you again.”
Settling on a stool, she leaned over the counter. It would give him a good view of her cleavage, and a good incentive to stop playing host and just fuck her brains out already. “Then why don’t you?”
He slid a bottle across the counter. “Because I’m selfish.”
“That wasn’t the answer I was expecting. Please, elaborate.” She raised an eyebrow as she tilted the bottle to her lips.
He laughed and cleared his throat. “I’m pretty sure that once you get what you want out of this, you’re going to suddenly remember what a bad idea it is to have sex with one of your players, and you’re going to bolt. And I would like to delay that for as long as I reasonably can.”
She swallowed painfully. “So… we’re not going to have sex?”
“Oh, no. We’re going to have sex, believe me.” He grinned at her and took another drink from his bottle.
She laughed. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I think it’s bullshit.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah. I don’t think you want anything more than a one-night-stand, either. I think you’re just afraid to disappoint me.” It might be a nasty trick to play on his competitive spirit, but Maggie had to draw a line in the sand. She really was going to cut and run when it was over, and she didn’t want him believing otherwise. It would be unfair to him if she let him expect something more.
He slowly walked to her side of the island, pushing his bottle along the countertop as he did. “I don’t think I’ll disappoint you.”
Maggie tsk-tsked and took another drink before responding. “You’re the one who brought it up in the batting cage. You said you might not live up to my expectations.”
“Oh, I won’t live up to your expectations. I’ll exceed them.” He set his beer aside and reached for her, cupping her jaw in one hand to kiss her, long and slow.
It was torture, but she wasn’t about to let him get the last word. She leaned back and smoothed her hand over the front of her dress. “This is starting to look bad. I mean, you talked a big game in the batting cage… look how that turned out.”
He laughed and nodded. “Okay, you have me there.”
Before she could retort, he put his hands around her waist and lifted her up. Her arms locked behind his neck as he set her on the counter. His hands slipped up her legs, under the tight skirt, fingers hooking through the wisp of sheer fabric she wore beneath, and she lifted her hips. Slowly, he dragge
d her panties down her thighs, sliding from the stool to one knee to pull them over her heels.
She moved one foot to push her shoe off, and he brushed it aside. “Leave those on.”
The softly spoken command sent a chill up her spine. Her pussy clenched as he seated himself on the stool once again, situating himself between her legs so that she had nowhere to put them but over his wide shoulders. He guided them there with his rough hands, kissing her calf, her knee, her inner thigh as he did. She held on to the edge of the counter, knuckles white with anticipation as he pushed his hands beneath her ass to lift her hips. She leaned back, elbows meeting the cold granite countertop, and he slowly lowered his mouth to her aching sex.
His tongue swept up her cleft in a long, slow lick, and she took a shuddering breath. Raising his head, he met her gaze. “I bet you twenty bucks you can’t make it ten minutes without coming.”
Ten minutes? She was a goner and she knew it. But she wasn’t going to give in that easily. “A hundred.”
“Oh, you’ve got a bet,” he said, grinning before he bent his head to the challenge.
His mouth closed over her clit, and she mentally cursed herself for not saying fifty.
Chapter Three
What am I doing? Chris’s rational side had successfully evaded him all evening. Now it showed up? It was stupid of him to have agreed to sneak off with Maggie. It was stupid of him to have brought her back here. It was supremely stupid of him to have his face buried in her cunt and her legs locked around his neck.
This is Coach’s daughter, his brain reminded him. Fuck his brain, he’d never liked it, anyway. Besides, she wasn’t a teenager anymore. No, she was definitely a full-grown woman, and she wanted this as much as Chris did, judging from the way she rolled her hips against his face.
Beneath his mouth, she was hot, wet, and open. He ran his tongue over her clit, sucking the hard knot between his lips with merciless pressure. She groaned and took loud, deep breaths. When he looked up, he almost laughed. Her head was turned to the microwave and the green numbers on its clock face.
If she thought she would really last ten minutes, she was lying to herself. At least, if she was as turned on as he was; he certainly didn’t know if he could go ten minutes without fucking her right there on the kitchen island. He rolled his tongue around in lazy circles, then dipped down to push inside her. She gave a long, noisy exhalation, and her palm slapped the counter.
“How many minutes has it been?” he asked, bumping his nose against her folds as he raised his head.
She replied through gritted teeth. “Four.”
“Hmm. Not even halfway done yet.” He parted her with his thumbs and stroked down the bundle of nerves slowly, savoring the taste of her, the feel of the frilled edge of her flesh against his tongue. Alternating between slowly lapping at her and darting his tongue in precision strikes, he knew he’d found the right motion when she wriggled her hips and clawed at his hair with her shiny red nails.
Her mound, waxed bare, was like velvet on his face. He groaned against her and slipped his tongue inside, curling over her internal ridges. With his hand splayed over her lower abdomen, he rubbed her clit over and over with his thumb, faster and faster, until her whole body curled up from the counter and she shouted, “Oh, fuck!” as she came with a burst of wetness that bathed his chin.
He pushed up, laughing, and she wriggled back, pulling her skirt down pretty demurely for a woman who was still breathing hard after a screaming orgasm on a kitchen counter.
“Look, before we go any further…”
“Yeah, I’ll be right back.” He left her there only for a minute, running to the bathroom, shedding his shirt along the way. In the medicine cabinet, he found condoms, and with a grimace of dismay, reluctantly checked the expiration date. It had been a really long time. When he saw that they were good to go, he breathed a sigh of relief and headed back out. He’d expected her to have moved to someplace more comfortable. The couch, maybe, or even upstairs to his bed, if he thought they would make it that far. She sat on one of the bar stools at the island, leaning back with her elbows on the counter. One leg rested lazily over the other stool, giving him a spectacular view of her glistening cunt.
“Six minutes,” she said, in answer to a question he wouldn’t have been smart enough to ask, anyway.
“You wanna move to the couch?” he asked, not sure what they were talking about, just absolutely certain that he would fall to his knees and beg her if he didn’t get inside her soon.
“No, no, no, I don’t think we can see the clock from there.” She swung her long leg down from the barstool, her heels clicking on the stained concrete as she closed the distance between them. “Wanna go double or nothing? See if you can’t beat six minutes?”
Oh, so it was that game, was it? There was no way he’d be able to last six minutes. She might as well have asked to go for six years. As she dropped to her knees in front of him, he held his breath. He tried to keep cool, but all he could think of was how hot her cherry-red lips would look wrapped around his cock. Already painfully hard, he groaned as she unzipped his fly and released him. She stroked one hand down him slowly, bending her wrist as she did. “Wow. It’s just as impressive up close.”
He laughed weakly, too overcome by the flood of sensation as she pumped him. When sweat beaded on his forehead and he closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on anything but the feel of her warm, soft hand gliding like silk over his dick, she stopped.
“Look at me,” she practically cooed, and he was helpless to resist. When he opened his eyes, her lips hovered just a fraction from the head of his cock. Her tongue darted out, and he felt the heat of it, but not the touch, as she wet her lips. “I’m going to make you come.”
“Right now?” His voice was tight.
She nodded. Her breath teased the tip of him. “Right now. Right here. I’m going to make you come in my mouth. Swallow every single drop.”
Hell, he’d almost come before the end of her sentence.
Before he could think of a witty retort, she slid her lips over him, gliding them down his shaft until he touched the back of her throat, then pulling completely back, her tongue swiping along the underside of his cock as she went. His toes curled against the cold floor.
Kneeling before him, she looked like a pin-up sex goddess come to life. She held his hips for stability as she bobbed, sucking and teasing, always gazing up at him with an expression as close to a smirk as someone could get with a cock in their mouth. Her ankles were crossed, the red heels gleaming. Her fantastic breasts pressed against his thighs, and he could vividly imagine how they would bounce as she rode him. He couldn’t wait to experience it, but a look at the clock told him he’d endured only three minutes of her acrobatic tongue and mouth.
Things… weren’t going well. He wasn’t going to make it six minutes, absolutely no way. He might not make it another thirty seconds. “I think I have to give up,” he managed through gritted back teeth.
She slipped her mouth slowly, torturously free, her tongue tapping the underside of the head as she did. “I never said you were going to have the option of yielding.”
Apparently, she did not grasp the seriousness of the situation. “Maggie, I’m telling you, I’m close.”
She pumped him in her hand and swirled her tongue around him like a goddamned lollipop. “Make me stop.”
His hips bucked, his balls drew up. The white-hot threat of orgasm curled tighter, and in his desperation, he used the only defense available to him.
He grabbed the detachable faucet head from the bar sink on the island, and he sprayed her.
She sat back sputtering, water dripping from her hair. Judging from her wide-open eyes and mouth, he was guessing she would be either furious or amused. He tore open the condom and sheathed his aching cock, just in case it was the latter.
Arms turned out at the elbows, shaking water from the ends of her fingertips, she gasped, “What… the fuck?”
And then sh
e started laughing. It seemed as good a time as any to haul her to her feet and push her over the counter, the faucet still laying on the floor, spraying around their ankles. He wasn’t about to let something as small as water damage stop him, not when she was there, hot and slick and waiting for him. She pushed back as he pushed forward, sinking him deep, and they both groaned in mutual relief and frustration. Relief that he was finally inside her, frustration because he wanted so much more. He withdrew, her rippling inner walls teasing and grasping at every inch of him, and when he thrust back inside, he stayed there long enough to roll her dress up further. With a high, feminine growl that made him laugh, she pulled the whole slinky red garment over her head, leaving her entirely bare.
The fact that she was braless and she’d still looked that amazing in that dress was not lost on Chris, and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her bare breasts. He immediately regretted his decision to fuck her in a position that would block his view. Leaning one knee on a bar stool, he hauled her up against his body, one arm around her ribcage as he stroked into her. She threw her head back, golden curls tickling his shoulder and chest, driving him even further toward the edge. Her slick heat squeezed him, her loud, appreciative vocalizations mingled with his own rough breathing. It was entirely possible that this would not go into extra innings, and he didn’t want to leave her disappointed.
When he reached for the hose to the retractable faucet, she made an inquisitive noise that quickly broke into a jagged moan as he directed the spray over her clit. Grateful to live in a building with such life-saving water pressure, he held the faucet there and drove into her hard. Her foot caught on a low rung of the stool, and she used it for leverage as she strained with him. Her hands braced against the countertop, she moaned, “Oh god, I’m coming,” and he didn’t see the need to wait any longer. He fucked her harder, faster, pulling her off her feet entirely as she screamed and spasmed around his cock, water from the faucet running down their legs. With a shout of his own, he came, pulsing deep inside while she wriggled and moaned in his arms.
Long Relief (Hardball Book 1) Page 3
