Fast and Loaded: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Roxy Sinclaire

  He stops moving his hand. It had inched as far as it could. He props his fingers right against the power button of my pussy, shocking my body like electricity.

  I arch my back in response. Damn, does he have a map of all my pleasure points? It had been two long, barren years since fingers other than my own had been there. Even through the thin fabric of my slacks and silk panties, the warmth of his thick hand pushing in circular motions against my clit feels like being happy-drunk on a Ferris wheel while eating a funnel cake. Joy.

  The word “stop” forms in my mouth, but does not exit. Groans of pleasure replace it when he doles out kisses along my neckline.

  “Just stay with me tonight. We won’t do anything that you don’t want to,” he says between kisses.

  “And what if I prefer this?” I ask, melting into the seat.

  “Win. Win,” he murmurs against my skin as he deftly unbuttons my pants with one hand and slides it beneath the flimsy fabric to the slick folds of my pussy.

  “Okay!” I exhale in a near yell. “Please just—I’ll take my chances with the dare and no touching.”

  He sits back wearing a smug look.

  “Good,” he answers before placing the car in reverse and driving off.

  Heaven help me and forgive me, wrong shouldn’t feel so good.

  Chapter 14-Devlin

  The look of sheer pleasure plastered against Ayron’s face when I touched her filled me with an immense sense of gratification. For those few minutes in the car, when I was able to touch her bare womanhood, she looked relaxed. I like being the reason that she smiles.

  We got to the small airport and got on one of my private jets. I didn’t tell her where we were going, just that it was a surprise.

  The private flight to New York is quicker than expected. Ayron and I play charades while in the air. Her goal—figure out where the hell we were going. My goal—confuse the hell out of her. I had refused to tell her. Ayron gets as far with an answer as I had gotten with her and having sex, but her will to try gives rise to fun times. The elegant woman transforms into an energetic teenager, either unaware or not caring that she is grown and a professional. Her excitement is so contagious that I join in. I give her hints through scenes from movies. After she can’t figure it out with my reenactment from “King Kong,” I give up. I love the way that Ayron is prim and proper in public, but when it comes to our time she can be carefree. Smiling, comfortable, and funny.

  Even though I hadn’t been at work, Gloria was still paid as my assistant. She had been able to put the evening together for me securing the perfect tickets, flight staff, and clothing. I had her gather a rack of dresses and shoes that Ayron could choose from while on the plane. Gloria had already sent a change of clothing and necessities ahead to the hotel.

  Broadway is a sight to behold. But the hundreds of flashing lights, neon advertisements, and thousands of tourists milling the streets fades into nothing, compared to the awe-struck look on Ayron's face.

  “The Lion King," she whispers, staring up at the colorful marquee. I stand behind her. I want to hook her into me, feel the press of her soft breasts against my chest, and see that gorgeous, grateful, loving face looking up at me instead of a Broadway banner.

  But I promised not to touch the goods, and I won’t.

  “No you didn’t,” she breathes. Her head swings between the marquee sign and my face. “Devlin?”

  “You said that you wanted to see The Lion King,” I say. “No money, no one who wanted to see it—I thought. Did I do wrong?”

  Ayron grabs the sleeves of my sports jacket and smashes her lips against mine.

  “This is awesome,” she shrieks when she finally releases my lips. “Thank you.”

  I was certain when I had Gloria put all of this together that this surprise would be something she wanted.

  “So you like it?” I double check.

  “I just can’t believe it,” she exclaims, scooting through the moving people and pulling me behind her.

  I had promised that I wouldn’t touch Ayron, but she doesn’t stop touching me. Her hands slip and slither about my fingers and arms during the entire performance. Her head dips and droops on my shoulder. Her lips linger and tingle my cheek. Her giddiness is infectious, and I smile because she does. Making her happy eases me. The songs, the costumed characters, the sound effects—none of them are as exciting as watching Ayron.

  “That was the best show ever.” She bounces as we make our way to the hotel.

  “I loved looking at you. Your smile was the best part of the night,” I explain to the wonderful woman who had drawn me closer to her. The flouncy hair that moves along her shoulders compliments the burgundy cocktail dress that she had changed into on the plane.

  “I still can’t believe that this afternoon I was home and now I’m in New York with you,” she says, looking from the sky and into my eyes. “Thank you for this.”

  “You’re welcome,” I reply, squeezing her hand tightly.

  She is serious. Her gaze is unwavering but sweet.

  “I mean it, Devlin. I’ll never forget this,” Ayron promises. “This is the best night ever.”

  “It won’t be our last night,” I say, concern churning in the back of my mind. Her words make it seem like this isn’t long-term. Does she plan to bail on me before the thirty days are up, or does she plan to sleep with me and then disappear? We hadn’t named what we had, but when I think about doing things in life, I imagine that she will be there.

  Ayron’s excitement moves us forward quickly down the crowded sidewalk, her wide eyes and pointing arms making the trek just as enchanting as watching her see a Broadway play for the first time.

  “This is it,” I tell her, nodding to the left at a large building with gold plated revolving doors.

  Her eyes shoot at me with wonder.

  “Are we staying here?” she asks, placing a hand on my arm to steady herself. “I am trying my best not to act like the country mouse visiting the city, but you are making this terribly difficult.”

  The dancing twinkle in her eye makes me laugh and I slide a comfortable arm around her waist before guiding her into one of the most luxurious hotels in the city. Her head falls against my arm as though it’s made to be there.

  Walking through the gilded lobby is a treat as I watch Ayron’s sweet yet comical reactions to the opulence. I kiss her forehead before stepping away from her to the desk to receive our keys.

  “Be right back,” I tell her, feeling the emptiness where her warm body had been.

  I speak with the clerk about our reservation. I just need to check in and pick up the keys.

  The clerk brandishes a toothy grin and becomes extra-attentive once she is aware of who I am.

  “If you need an-ny-thing,” she stresses the words with attentive eyes, “you can call me personally.” The uniform clad woman slides two key cards across the marble desk.

  In the past, the inviting eyes of the curvy clerk would give me a reason to ring for room service, but I have better. No one else tonight, maybe not ever again. The thought is shocking and not shocking at the same time. I thought a sense of longing would accompany any thoughts of being monogamous, but I only feel excited about the prospect.

  “This will be all. Thank you.” I nod.

  When I turn to face Ayron, I see her arms fling familiarly around the neck of a tall, solid man. I could feel myself getting angry as my smile turned into a frown. I stalk over to the two with what I am sure is a scowl. Ayron had released the suited man by then and her face is lifted in his direction as they chat.

  “I can’t believe that you’ll be on the Rhonda Raven panel with me,” I hear Ayron say to the man before plopping a hand onto her hip and smiling.

  I slide my arm around Ayron’s waist and pull her lips to mine in a kiss, ending her words.

  “I have the keys, babe,” I let Ayron know without acknowledging the gawking guy clearing his throat.

  Ayron’s forehead creases and her eyes narrow
. Even in anger, her face is still beautiful.

  “This is a college friend of mine, Brian Jamal Stephens,” she says with a slight tinge of annoyance. No one else would notice if listening, but in our time together, I had learned to listen for small twinges in her tones and face. Whenever she is nervous, she nibbles on the left side of her lip. The deeper the crease in her forehead, the more stressed or angry she is. Her happiness filters throughout her body, causing her eyelashes to bat faster and an excessive use of her hands. She plays with her nails whenever she’s thinking. Learning Ayron had become a game, like mouse trap, and knowing her body and the steps that I had to go through to gain access to the pussy prize.

  “Dr. Brian Jamal Stephens,” the grinning guy corrects, extending a hand toward mine.

  I look at the hand, then back at Ayron’s subtly tense demeanor and the way she plucks her pinky nail with her thumb nail.

  I want to punch Dr. Brian Jamal Stephens in the face for touching my girl, but I like it when Ayron smiles, so I play nice.

  Reluctantly, I plunk my hand against Brian’s for a brisk handshake.

  “Brian, this is Devlin,” she introduces. No title, no explanation, no extra affection or twist in her voice when she mentions my name.

  “Nice to meet you, Devlin,” he says in my direction as he tugs at the ends of his jacket. “Good seeing you, doc,” he smiles before eyeing my Ayron’s body.

  This disrespectful motherfucker is testing my resolve.

  “It’s been a long time. Enjoy your stay,” Ayron responds to Dr. Brian with a smile. An authentic one. She isn’t giving up any pussy, so that smile is all that I can claim. How dare she just give it up to him?

  I take deep breaths and begin counting backward from one hundred in my head, to calm myself like Ayron had insisted back when we were on a date to the aquarium. She had experienced my road rage back then.

  Brian continues to the counter to speak with the flirty clerk. He waves at Ayron as we enter the elevator. I shoot my middle finger at him when Ayron isn’t looking.

  “What was the attitude about?” Ayron snaps when the doors close.

  I look at her flared nostrils, regretting my earlier anxiety over how familiar she was with that man.

  “I didn’t expect to turn around and see you—” I stop, not sure how to state the obvious.

  Her face softens and her cheek rises in a half smile.

  “Were you jealous?” she teases, looking up at me with those long lashes.

  I expel the air in my chest and relax a little. I can’t be angry around her, and I definitely can’t huff around like a child when her body is so close to mine.

  I take Ayron into my arms and watch her eyes.

  “I like you a lot, Ayron, and it frustrated me a little to see you smiling at Bob.”

  Ayron giggles.

  “You mean Brian, and he’s truly just someone I know from back in the day. We also both consult for Rhonda Raven.”

  “The Rhonda Raven, like on television?” I ask. I am luckier than I thought and I am overcome with the urge to lift her into my arms and kiss the shit out of her sexy-ass mouth.

  “Yes.”

  “So you are a superstar?” I question as the elevator doors open.

  “Maybe.” She grins. “But I’ll be your superstar,” she says in a low voice as we walk to the room.

  I can’t resist kissing her lips. I place a light peck across her mouth, even though I want to ravish her.

  “I’d rather that you were my Angelfish,” I grunt against her cheek, feeling myself rise against my pants.

  When I slide the key card into the door, I think about sliding into her.

  Chapter 15-Ayron

  His Angelfish? I could have melted into the floor right there. This sexy man wants me to be his. The anguish of not being totally honest with Devlin swishes around in my belly like sour milk. If I had followed him home from the club that night when we met on the dance floor, then this night would be perfect. It would be the best night of my life. But I hadn’t.

  The beautiful hotel suite is large and grand. There are two bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a living area with a sofa set and television.

  “You got a second room for me,” I say, watching the thoughtful and charming Devlin slide out of his black Versace shoes.

  “I told you that I planned to play by your rules,” he replies, his eyes grazing over me.

  I turn away from his smoldering gaze. He looks as though he wants to tear my clothes off, and I have half of a mind to let him. He had gone through so much trouble to make this a wonderful night for me. Just about me. He had seen the play several times, he had been to New York and seen the sights, everything that happened tonight was for my pleasure, and now I want to give him some in return.

  “I can’t believe you did this all for me,” I murmur, feeling as though I am being wound into him. His chiseled handsome face, large square shoulders, and athletic build make me want to touch him.

  His vertical blue and black striped button down shirt, with a perfect fit on his torso, makes me want to just rip it off.

  His smile gets bigger as he watches me.

  I press my breasts against the hardness of his torso and look up at him.

  “You said that you would touch me only if I touch you,” I repeat the rule we established before the flight. He had said it all to calm me, and it had worked.

  His breath quickens as he stares hungrily at my mouth.

  I slide my hand across the front of his zipper.

  “You’re in control, Angelfish,” he chokes out before biting his lip.

  I continue to stroke the length of his hardening dick through his pants.

  “Is it alright if I touch you here?” I question.

  His eyes roll upward when I increase the pressure, palming him.

  “Don’t roll your eyes,” I tease. “They’ll get stuck that way.”

  He coughs out a half-moan and laugh.

  “You’re worth going blind for,” he grunts.

  I unbuckle his belt.

  Before I can unzip his pants, Devlin pulls my face to his so quickly that it startles me. He open my mouth with his hot tongue with an intensity that sends fire bolts straight to my pussy. Low groans escape his throat as he feverishly dances his tongue through my mouth and palms my ass as though it would run away if he didn’t keep it tightly handled.

  Without letting go of my mouth or my ass, Devlin moves me onto the sofa in two steps. I am lost to the pool of my emotions as he presses his large frame between my legs. His hands roam my body, alternating between my breasts and ass. I can smell his cologne on his hands and his body as he comes closer to me. One whiff is all I need. But luckily I got more.

  I can feel his rough hands move all over my body, from top to bottom, and it gives me a sense of protection and warmth. It also makes me want him to not stop touching me.

  I may as well just serve my pussy to Devlin on a platter. The man did a damn good job of sweeping me off of my feet. The plane, the play, the wait for me: all amazing. All fleeting. I have to take advantage of the time that I have with him.

  I let out a moan of pleasure. Feeling the familiar throb between my thighs, that ache for Devlin that pulses through me whenever I am near him.

  “You win,” I murmur. “Take me.”

  This stops him. The hot rough kisses stop in an instant, and he is standing on the other side of the room pacing and counting.

  “One hundred…ninety-nine…ninety-eight…ninety-seven…ninety-six,” he says in a low voice.

  I sit up, suddenly feeling cold.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, sounding more like a frightened little girl than the sexy woman I had planned to be. Did he not want me? Why had he done all of this, if not to screw me?

  “Seventy-four…seventy-three…seventy-two,” he continues.

  I get up and walk across the room to him. I place a hand on his shoulder and he stops pacing.

  When he looks at me, he looks sad.


  “Talk to me,” I say.

  He sighs.

  “This is the shit that my father was talking about,” he says, shaking his head.

  His father? What had his father said? Does Devlin know about me? Is that why he stopped?

  I swallow back a knot in my throat and bite my lip. It tastes like him.

  “I’m worrying you,” he says softly, before ushering me to the couch where he was just about to rip off my clothes.

  “I understand why my father didn’t give me the position,” he says, looking at me seriously. “Being a leader takes self-control. You have to follow protocol. I haven’t been the best at doing that. I couldn’t even keep control tonight.”

  He looks defeated.

  I run my hand across the top of his.

  “Restraint takes practice, and I’m pretty sure you’ve had to exercise that more in the business world than in the bedroom,” I say. His determination to make tonight about me and take things slow is heartwarming. I can’t remember a man ever caring this much about my feelings. Maybe because I didn’t make them.

  He shakes his head before licking those “make her cum” lips.

  “Experience is simply the name that we give our mistakes,” I quote, attempting to comfort him. “If you know better, you will do better. When it is time for your review hearing, get in there and tell them what you told me: that you acknowledge this flaw but have addressed it and grown.”

  He smiles at me.

  “You are so fucking beautiful when you talk smart,” he says, kissing my cheek. “You asked me for thirty days and I plan to respect that. I wanted everything to be perfect for you tonight, but when you kissed me with that mouth—”

  I kiss the remainder of the words from him, and he pulls back.

  “There you go again,” he laughs.

  “I want this, Dev. I want you.” Damn it all. I am ready to feel him. I need to feel him to quench this thirst.

  “Come here,” he says and guides me to one of the bedrooms, and my heart flip flops.

  He slides out of his pants and with one hand, undoes my bra strap under my top. I was impressed. I help unbutton his shirt while he slowly takes my top off and slides my bra off my shoulders. He looks down and smiles at my breasts. He had been teasing me for so long, reigning over the agony that pulses in my privates for him. Tonight he will give me what I needed.