by Maggie Wells
He smiled down at her, understanding softening his expression. “We’re going to take a page from your playbook. It’s your turn to let the things unfold.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, but his gaze never wavered. “I promise you can be on top next time.”
She held out for a handful of heartbeats, then whispered, “Okay, but I’ve got next.”
Danny wandered his way down her body, perversely avoiding her breasts but sending delicious ripples of sensation through her as he staked claim on each newly uncharted erogenous area he uncovered. Who knew her navel was so ticklish? She would have bet on her ribs, but no. She only moaned and writhed when he outlined them with the tip of his tongue. God, she loved the bit of suction he used when he covered her stomach with hot, wet kisses. By the time he nuzzled the undersides of her breasts, she lay beneath him as tight as an overtaxed hamstring but as loose as a shooter with a hot hand.
Her fingers slid through his hair, toying with the waves as he tormented her. He had a scar at his hairline. She wanted to ask him about it, but he chose that exact moment to close his mouth over her nipple. She arched her back, bowing into the pain-tinged pleasure as his teeth rasped the pebbled flesh. She collapsed, panting, her eyes locked on the ceiling when he pressed her back down with the flat of his tongue. His hands were everywhere—grasping her hips, stroking her leg, cupping her breasts as if he’d found the holy grail instead of a couple of wannabe B-cups.
“Christ, Kate.”
He ground the words out as he released her other nipple, having subjected it to the same delicious torment as its twin. His hips jerked, his cock massaging a streak of hot, sticky pre-come into her thigh.
“I have to taste you.”
With that, he abandoned all pretense of smooth moves and steady seduction. Cool air teased her wet nipple into a painful point. She pressed her palm to her breast to either soothe or smother it, her eyes fixed on the man slithering down her body. Broad shoulders spread her thighs wide. He looked up. The stark longing in his eyes made her pulse race.
“Yes?” he asked, his voice rough as sandpaper.
“God yes,” she answered in a rush.
He slid one blunt fingertip through her wet folds, then plunged into her.
“Oh!”
Her hips rose in a valiant bid to meet each glorious stroke. Then his hot mouth closed over her clit, and all hell broke loose. She moaned. Oh God, she moaned loud enough to make him chuckle against her hypersensitive pussy, sending another paroxysm of pleasure pulsing through her. She moaned so loud the neighbors probably heard her. He circled the demanding bundle with a laziness that boasted his intention to do nothing more all night long if he wanted. Thankfully, he had more tricks up his nonexistent sleeve.
He drew her clit into his mouth, alternately sucking and teasing the tender flesh with his tongue while he started to fuck her with that singularly inadequate finger. Kate gripped his hair, tugging at the soft strands, then digging her nails into his scalp. She circled her hips, shamelessly fucking him back, desperate to grab the release hovering just out of her grasp. Then the bastard withdrew his hand.
“Please. No.”
He ignored her broken protests. She almost wept when he raised his head, a wicked grin stretching his wide, wet mouth. “Oh, I’m not quitting, Coach.”
Danny lowered his head again, opened his mouth wide, and closed it over her. His damp fingertips teased the crevice of her ass. She planted her feet and pressed up, offering herself to him without apology. In this moment, the tables had turned. She was open, vulnerable to him in every way, just as he’d been to her in the shower room, and she gave herself over to it. He thrust his tongue into her once, twice, then pulled back to apply the most mind-bending suction she’d ever experienced.
She came hard and fast, in waves of sensation almost too intense to be called pleasurable. They rocked through her, one riding the heels of the other, relentless and irrepressible. Not that she wanted to hold them back. She didn’t want them to stop. Not now. Not ever.
Certainly not when Danny pushed back to rest on his heels, a self-satisfied smile crinkling his eyes and cutting the most enticing grooves around his mouth. He waggled his brows a bit, but she was too wrung out to muster more than a weak smile. Chuckling and obviously riding high on his accomplishments, the man of the hour rose onto his knees between her legs. His cock jutted straight out from a thatch of ink-black curls, thick and heavy, the swollen head taut and slick with need.
“Score’s tied.”
She was still trying to make sense of his raspy declaration when he pitched forward, catching himself on his hands so he wouldn’t crush her beneath his weight. His blue eyes shone with victory. The white of his teeth was nearly blinding.
Needing to gain a little ground, she retaliated with a smile of her own, then cocked her head to take him all in. “Tied?”
“We’re both up one.” He gave his hips a meaningful twitch and looked deep into her eyes. “Looks like we’re heading into overtime. You ready, Coach?”
The challenging light in his eyes was all the spark she needed. Reaching up, she grabbed a fistful of silver-shot dark hair and pulled him down. They kissed deeply, lingering as they shared the taste of the pleasure he’d given her. When they broke apart at last, they were both breathless.
Opening her eyes, Kate waited until he swam into focus. She pressed a fingertip to his damp upper lip, tracing the bow of it as if she were pondering his question very thoroughly, even though she’d known her answer the minute he asked.
“Danny?” She spoke his name in a whisper so soft and sultry he tensed like a pointer on the hunt. Then she smiled, letting it unfurl slowly. “I was born ready.”
*
Good Lord, she was hot. He was glad she couldn’t see his eyes roll back in his head when he reached for the nightstand drawer. He had to jiggle it to get it to open. An action that resulted in an immediate reaction from Kate and even more eye rolling on his part, but the drawer slid open with a heavy thunk. Danny groped in the depths, expecting to find a box of condoms, perhaps a pad of paper and a pen, reading glasses or a book—the sorts of things he might find in his own. He didn’t expect to wrap his fingers around a disconcertingly thick hunk of silicone.
Rearing back, he came up on his knees with an eight-inch rubber dick in a shade of purple he was pretty sure would be indicative of heart failure. “What the—” He goggled at the dildo, then shifted his gaze to the woman pinned beneath him. “Whoa.”
A blush burned bright in her cheeks, but she managed a shrug that looked almost nonchalant. “It was a gift.”
Curling his lip in distaste, he leaned forward to put the vibrator back where he found it. “The gift that keeps giving, huh?” He located the condom box with his next grope and pulled back again. A smirk twisted his lips as he tore into the cardboard. “Let me guess, his name is Bob?”
She flinched as if he’d revealed her deepest, darkest secret. “You know about BOBs?”
Danny snickered as he extracted a foil-wrapped condom. “I’ve heard the term.” It was hard to look cool and smug when fumbling with a rubber, but he did the best he could. “Not very original.”
“Mine isn’t Bob,” she retorted.
“No?” He secured the roll of latex at the base of his dick, then trailed his hand up the inside of her thigh, hoping to get the conversation—and the action—back on track. “Good.”
A shiver passed through her when he settled between her legs again. He closed his eyes, relishing the sensation of being on the cusp.
“It’s LeBron.”
His eyes popped open. “Seriously?”
“No, just joking.”
He shook his head but growled his approval when she drew her leg up high.
“It’s Michael,” she whispered as she wrapped those thoroughbred legs around his hips.
An involuntary moan escaped him when he pressed into her moist heat. His brain stalled. “Michael?”
“Jordan.” She r
an a languid hand down the length of his spine. “Why settle for anything less than the best?”
He blinked, trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was discussing a dildo with her when his real, live, pulsing dick was poised at the edge of glory. But her eyes glowed bright with pleasure and anticipation, the golden lights in them as irresistible as the siren song of her teasing. “Why not Kobe or Kareem?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Kobe has had enough trouble with women, and Kareem just sounds a little too dirty.”
She tipped her hips up, and he began the slow slide into her. Dipping his head to whisper directly into her ear, he asked, “Magic?”
Her husky chuckle rippled through him. “This feels like magic, but I like Mike.” Once he was fully seated in her, she raked her nails lightly up his back. “I like to fly high. Maybe you can help me get some air again?”
He choked on a gasping laugh but began to move inside her. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”
She slid a hand between their bodies. He felt her knuckles graze his abs and heard her gasp when she touched her clit. He drove into her—sure, steady, and driven completely insane by the fact that she was taking her own pleasure in hand. “Christ, Kate, I feel like the top of my head’s going to blow off.”
“God, I hope not. I’ve been thinking about this all damn day.” She arched her neck and bowed her body into his. “I’d hate to think we’d be a one and done.”
“Oh, hell no.”
Determination reinforced, he pulled her hand out from between them and pinned it to the pillow beside her head. Grasping her ass, he leveraged onto his knees just enough to drive down into her, dragging the shaft of his cock over her swollen clit with each stroke. The tiny, maddening moans and whimpers were back within a matter of seconds. Her muscles cinched him tight, holding him deep and snug. He slammed into her, losing his grip as she tightened around him.
The first spasm rolled through her, and he shot off like a rocket, pumping into her wild and free, emptying himself inside her.
He might have shouted her name. The bedroom walls reverberated with release. But whether it was him or her, he couldn’t recall. He collapsed onto her, trusting her to hold his weight as he buried his face in her hair. She gentled him with her hands, feathery strokes interspersed with firm caresses. She unknotted her legs and ran the arch of her foot the length of his.
“We fit.”
A long moment passed. He didn’t realize he’d spoken the words aloud until she answered.
“Yes, we do.”
“It’s nice.”
She laughed softly. “Yeah, it is.”
Slowly, reality came seeping back into his consciousness. Danny roused himself enough to peel his weight off her chest. He peered down at her, unable to repress his smile when their eyes met. “Know what else would be nice?”
Her stomach rumbled, and it vibrated through him, pressed as close together as they were. Kate laughed, and making Kate laugh was suddenly number two on his list of favorite things to do to her.
“Pizza?” she asked, eyes sparkling.
Chapter 11
It should have felt weird, having him there. First off, he was a man, and it had been a very long time since she’d had a man in her bed. Second, she barely knew the guy. She had no clue what his favorite color might be or what television shows he watched. Did he read anything other than playbooks? Could he make her come that hard again? And all those questions aside, he was Danny McMillan. This was the cocky fuckup who’d blown into town demanding half the attention and twice her salary. She was supposed to hate him.
Too bad she didn’t.
He didn’t feel like a rival. He felt mind-blowingly good. And comfortable. Their conversation flowed. Yeah, it was peppered with jabs and jokes, but there was no longer much heat behind them.
Unlike their kisses.
He should have looked ridiculous in her bed, but he didn’t. His thick, muscular thighs looked so good tangled up in rosebud-printed sheets. When she slipped out from under the cover he’d pulled over them, he simply lay there with his hand behind his head, staring at her as if she were a supermodel/centerfold combo and he was trying to figure out how to get the magazine staples out of her stomach. With his teeth.
And Lord, she wanted him too. Boy, was Avery going to be pissed. Her friend had spent the last few weeks researching salary inequities based on gender and preparing her attack on the patriarchal establishment. And here Kate was, sleeping with the enemy.
Selfconscious, she reached for the robe she kept hanging on the back of her closet door. “Don’t you think you should do something with…”
She waved her hand toward his crotch but trailed off when he rolled up and off the bed in one fluid motion. She stood frozen, mesmerized by the sight of him as he crossed to her. Despite her helpful reminder, the condom still clung to his semierect penis. She couldn’t help but stare. Even when not shown to its best advantage, every damn inch of the man was impressive.
She slipped one arm into the robe, but he caught her free hand in both of his and squeezed.
“Please don’t.”
A spurt of indignation shot through her when he gently slid the robe down her arm. She opened her mouth to protest, but he shut her down fast.
“You don’t need this. Not with me.” He shot a pointed glance at his own battle-scarred leg, then stared straight into her eyes. The short terry cloth robe dangled from his fingers in the no-man’s-land between them, hers for the taking if she truly wanted it. “You can pretend this is a locker room, if that makes it easier, but I like looking at you naked.”
A hot flush of pleasure prickled the back of her neck. Her nipples tightened in instinctive response to his roving gaze. She took the robe from him and placed it back on the hook, casting a glance over her shoulder. “Okay, but for your information, women don’t strut around naked in locker rooms like men do.”
He pulled her against his hair-roughened chest and kissed her hard. Stalking toward the bathroom, he grumbled, “Another fantasy shot to hell.”
Kate laughed, appreciating the view of his tight, white buttocks as he disappeared into the room. “I’ll heat the oven.”
And that’s how she came to be standing stark naked in her kitchen, tapping her foot impatiently as the oven heated and wondering if she should be worried about the six-pack of beer he’d set next to the pizza box.
“I’m okay with cold pizza.”
She jumped. The blush that warmed her cheeks burned faster and hotter than the glowing red coil in her oven. He held the carrier of beer out to her, silently offering a bottle. She must have hesitated a second too long, because he huffed an impatient sigh and plunked the six-pack down on the counter.
“Let’s clear this up right now.”
The steel in his deep voice made her quiver, but not with fear or intimidation. That firm, terse tone turned her on like nobody’s business. Arousal flooded her, making her head swim and her knees wobbly. Embarrassed, she ducked her head to peer into the empty oven. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she tapped the cool, unaffected tone she once used to trade insults with other players on the court. “Clear what up?”
“My past sins. For the record, I don’t have a drinking problem or an anger problem, and I’m not a sex addict.” His hand closed around her arm, compelling her to turn and face him. When she did, she found his blue eyes dark with frustration, but his gaze was steady. “Yes, I’d had a couple of beers the night all the crap came out about the recruiting violations, and yes, I exchanged some words with that reporter, but I never touched—”
“You don’t have to—”
His fingers tightened on her arm, but it was the brisk shake of his head that cut off her arguments. “I wasn’t drunk. I was angry. A completely justified anger.” He bit off the words. “You know how it is. When you’re the head coach, you’re the head coach. Everything stops at you.”
“I do know that.”
>
“And you know as well as I do that the violations they supposedly nabbed us on were things every D-one school does—”
“Not every school.”
He sneered a little at her holier-than-thou tone. “Fine, not every school, but most. And you know that nine times out of ten, the NCAA looks the other way.”
She shot him an arch look but grasped for a way to lighten the conversation. “Are you calling yourself a ten?”
He didn’t bite. Instead, he ran his hand through his rumpled hair. “There were other complications. I was already having issues with the AD and the administration, and I hadn’t exactly scored a lot of friends in the community. But as long as I kept winning, they couldn’t really get rid of me, could they?”
“No.”
“I was an asshole, but not a complete asshole.” He swallowed hard but fixed her with a direct gaze. “And then there was LeAnn.”
She flinched when he spoke the young woman’s name aloud. A part of her resented him for making that sordid bit of the story real when she stood there in her kitchen with him, exposed in more ways than one. “The student,” she said stiffly.
He grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. “You make it sound like I was parking outside the high school, hoping some girl would pick me to be her prom date. She was a graduate student. I was thirty-five, and she was twenty-six.”
“Kudos.”
“There’s a much bigger age gap between Ty Ransom and his child bride.” When she didn’t fire back, he let his grip on her arm fall slack. “Think whatever you want to think. Everyone else does.”
The creak of old aches tinged the bravado in his tone, making her feel about two inches tall. He hadn’t only been humiliated and humbled in this debacle. He’d been hurt too. And badly. An inexplicable surge of jealousy choked off the smart-assed remark she had locked and loaded. The beautiful redhead she’d seen all over the sports networks in the weeks following Danny’s firing was more than just an ego trip for a guy high on himself.
“When it became clear that I was going to be the poster boy for all that was wrong with college football, I did everything I could to keep her name out of things.” His lips thinned into a tight line. “But she didn’t really want to be kept out of the spotlight.”
