Love Game

by Maggie Wells

  “She was young.” It was a simple statement of fact, not a judgment or an excuse. Somehow, saying the words aloud made her feel even more naked. She was decades older than the girl they were discussing, and in that moment, she felt every minute.

  “She was,” he agreed. “And pretty and smart.” His mouth pursed as he searched for one more word. “Ambitious.” He pulled two bottles of beer from the carrier, twisted off the caps, and handed one to her. His mouth curled into a smirk so bitter, it made her chest hurt. “Also turns out she had no interest in dating a guy on the unemployment line.”

  He toyed with one of the bottle caps, running the pad of his thumb over the ridged edge, then pressing it into his flesh. “You know what the funny thing was?”

  He paused, but she knew a rhetorical question when she heard one, so she kept silent.

  “No one ever asked me how I felt about her. They just assumed I was a lecherous creep getting his rocks off with some young girl.” He dropped the cap on the counter and rubbed his thumb against the side of his forefinger, soothing the lingering effect of his self-abuse. “No one even asked. The press, my so-called friends…my mother…my brother.”

  The resentment in his tone took her by surprise. Turning to face him head-on, she asked the question he’d waited so long to answer. “Did you love her?”

  An endless minute passed, but he didn’t look away. “I thought I did.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She whispered the words of sympathy by reflex, surprised to find she meant them. Neither of them were fresh young things. They’d both loved, lost, and lived to tell the tale. At last, he turned away, lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a deep pull. His mouth was damp and shiny when he lowered it.

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  The bluntness of his question shocked her out of immobility. She slammed her untouched bottle of beer onto the counter. “What? No!”

  He met her eyes again. This time, his luscious lips twisted into a self-deprecating smirk. “I’d understand if you did.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Easy to be gallant when you’ve already got what you wanted.”

  Those blue eyes flashed. “Why do you sell yourself so cheap?” She opened her mouth to retort, but he pressed his finger to her lips. When she obediently closed them, his hand fell to his side. “If I wanted to leave, I’d have been gone by now.”

  His assertion was too cocky by half, but a grin still threatened her. Kate squelched it as best she could as she pulled a round pizza pan from a cabinet. Lifting the lid on the carryout box, she shot him a glance from under her eyelashes. “Well, there’s pizza.” That was as close as she’d get to asking him to stay.

  “Yes, there is.”

  She pursed her lips, weighing the wisdom of laying her own cards on the table. But he’d shown her his, and if there was ever a good time to give a little of her own, maybe this was it. After all, they were both experienced enough to know the risk of playing games. “My husband left me because I was better than him.”

  “At what?”

  She shrugged. “Just about everything.”

  “I can see that.” He stood there, naked and silent, watching her every move as she transferred the lukewarm pie to the pan and slid it into the oven.

  She straightened, trying not to feel so terribly nude, but it was hard to play it cool when she was hyperaware of every bump, bulge, and unsightly scar. It was easier to do when she caught sight of the blatant admiration in his frank gaze.

  The corner of his mouth lifted in that familiar smirk. “I guess I’m lucky to have skills in at least one area.”

  Her lips twitched, but she did her best to keep her expression sober. “Oh, I’d say you might have two.”

  “Is one of them football?”

  “Of course.”

  “And the other?”

  She fixed him with an unsmiling stare. “Is not football.”

  “So I’ve got that going for me.” He raised his bottle in a silent toast.

  Relieved that he didn’t force her to expound, she picked at the foil label with her thumbnail as she searched for a neutral topic of conversation. A thousand questions came to mind—everything from politics to books to coaching strategies and motivational techniques. In the end, she blurted, “What’s your favorite color?”

  Danny smiled, but his customary flash of teeth widened and warmed in direct proportion to the sizzle of embarrassment in her cheeks. “Green. What’s yours?”

  “Blue.” It wasn’t true. She liked red, but with his eyes locked on her, there was no other answer she could give. “I mean red,” she amended, turning to grab an oven mitt.

  “You’re decisive. I like that.”

  Slipping her hand into the padded mitt was comforting. She wasn’t completely naked anymore, and that made her brave. “And I like a man who’s helpful in the kitchen. Grab some plates, will you?”

  He snickered, opened the oven door, pulled out the pizza, and dumped the entire thing back into its box. “Plates? What are you, some kind of girl or something?”

  “Not a girl,” she retorted, liking the way he tried to bait her. It almost made her forget she was standing in her kitchen totally naked. But she couldn’t forget, so she figured she might as well use her nudity to her advantage. “I don’t know if you noticed, but what you see before you is over seventy-four inches of grown woman.”

  “Oh, I noticed,” he grumbled. Closing the lid on the box, he dropped his half-empty bottle into the six-pack carrier again and gave her a playful but surprisingly effective come-hither stare. “Come back to bed, Kate. I feel weird standing in the kitchen naked.”

  *

  “You done yet?”

  Danny shot her the glare that made three-hundred-pound linebackers quiver in their cleats. “Just what every man likes to hear in bed.”

  She was a picture of wide-eyed innocence. “I’m just asking.”

  He glanced down at the pizza box between them. She’d eaten exactly two slices. He’d demolished over half but still wanted more. More pizza. More of her. More lying naked in her bed, propped up on both pillows and dangling a warmish bottle of beer from his fingers.

  “One more.” He deftly snagged another piece, too quick to let her chop off his hand with the cardboard guillotine she’d made of the box lid.

  She shook her head and slid off the bed, dragging the boxed remains over rumpled sheets. “Just when I was starting to like you, you go and make me hate you again.”

  “You don’t hate me.”

  “You need to grow a gut like any decent man your age,” she muttered.

  He offered a guileless smile when she looked back from the bedroom doorway. “I need fuel. You’re too much for me.”

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  He chuckled as he chewed. Though she made noises about watching what she ate, from where he was sitting, he saw no hint of the selfconsciousness she’d shown earlier. She moved with the ease and grace of the athlete she still was, all toned muscle and silky-smooth skin.

  Except for the scars on her knee. Battle scars. Badges of honor.

  Energized by the twisted surge of lust brought on by those gnarled gashes, he mowed the slice down to crust. When she reappeared, he took a moment to drink in the messy perfection of her. Her sleek, dark hair was tousled, tossed into wayward waves that framed her oval face and clung to her neck. She paused at the entrance, bracing her hands high on the doorframe and cocking her head. All six feet two inches of her were on display for him. Only him. And suddenly, he couldn’t care less about fuel. All he needed was her.

  “C’mere.”

  He beckoned with his chin, but she just raised an eyebrow. High, small breasts tipped with surprisingly dark pink nipples stood at attention. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the musky scent of their bodies trapped in the dark curls between her legs. But he kept his eyes open. Wide. He needed them to trace the patterns he’d run over her creamy skin.

  “Every man’s wet d
ream. Isn’t that what they say?”

  The husky timbre of her voice jolted him from thoughts of end-arounds involving her spectacular rear end. “Huh?”

  She released her hold on the doorframe, her body arching as if she’d just scored a slam dunk. “This.” She waved a hand at him as she planted that perfectly imperfect knee on the edge of the mattress. “Pizza, beer…naked woman.” She cocked her head and crawled toward him. “Or is the naked woman supposed to turn into the pizza and beer?”

  He was working up a full sentence, but then she had his junk in her soft palm, and the tips of those long nails were testing and teasing spots that rarely garnered much attention. He squirmed a bit, and she laughed—low, soft, and knowing. She lifted her head to look up at him from under dark lashes as she pressed the pad of one finger to the spot beneath his balls. The nearly empty bottle he held fell to the carpeted floor. With a hum of amused satisfaction, she bent her head, and the soft ends of her hair tickled his thighs.

  “Feel good?”

  One last shred of cognizant thought had him pitching the crust he’d crumpled in his hand toward the nightstand. “Christ yes.”

  Danny let his head fall back as her lips grazed his sac. His dick hardened even more, pressing up through the tangle of her hair, unashamedly begging for the same attention. She ran her tongue between his nuts, and a tremor coursed through him.

  She took him firmly in hand, fondling him as she looked into his eyes. “You know, people used to complain about my ball-handling skills.”

  “Idiots,” he gasped.

  Her mouth closed around his sac, drawing first one then the other into her mouth and sucking gently. He braced himself with his hand on her head, fingers sliding into the tangles and getting hopelessly snared. She followed the vein that ran along the underside of his cock, licking, kissing, and sucking with enough playful tease to drive him straight out of his mind.

  She swallowed him whole, taking him so deep the head of his cock nudged the back of her throat, and every trace of oxygen in his lungs exploded into her name. “Kate!”

  He could feel her smile as she withdrew. “Hm?”

  “Don’t stop.”

  Whether the gasped words were an order or plea, he had no idea. All he knew was he needed to be wrapped in that wet heat more than he needed anything else in the world. Maybe even football.

  She hesitated for a split second, and he dug his fingertips into her skull, silently imploring. Her eyes met his, and she released him. For one heart-freezing moment, Danny was afraid he might actually weep at the loss. And then she spoke.

  “Don’t stop what? Tell me what you want.”

  “Suck me.” The truth burst from him raw-edged. “I want you to suck me.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “And then? Tell me everything.” She sank down just enough to maintain eye contact while she placed a chaste kiss to the very tip of him. “How does the play unfold, Coach?”

  “You like the dirty talk, huh?”

  She didn’t answer, but her lips parted, and he finally felt the moist heat of her mouth on his skin. Danny pushed his head into the pillow and let his eyes slide shut in surrender.

  “Take me in that pretty mouth of yours, Kate. Soft, short strokes at first.” He groaned as she followed his directions. “Now deeper, faster.” He wrapped his own hand around the base of his cock, holding it up for her to take while hoping to hold himself back as long as possible. “That’s it, suck.”

  He watched through slitted eyes. Her cheeks hollowed. She wet her lips so they’d slide over him easier, and his balls tightened, aching with the need for release. He let go of his dick and thrust up into her mouth, fucking her even as she drew on him enthusiastically.

  “Oh, yes,” he growled.

  Every muscle in his body clenched. Kate shifted, taking him deeper still. He knotted his fingers in her hair, his hips jerking wildly with each pull. “That’s it.”

  Another long, ragged groan escaped, but there was nothing he could do to stop them, even if he wanted to. Like any good coach, he knew when to ask and when to push. Now was the time to push her to her very limits.

  “You’re going to finish the play, Kate.” His breath came short and fast. “Take it all the way. Then I’m going to drive you out of your fucking mind.”

  He ground the last out as the climax rippled through him. He felt her still for a moment, then push on as he started to come. God, she was beautiful with her flushed cheeks and red lips. Through the haze, he watched her eyes close and her throat work. The pull of tongue, cheek, and throat felt incredible. He gave himself up to it, letting sensation roll through him like the roar of a crowd. His heart drummed double time. And when he came back to himself a few seconds, minutes, or hours later, he caught himself chanting her name in a hoarse whisper.

  Kate pressed a deliberate kiss to his hip bone, then blessed the hollow of his pelvis with another. “I did well, huh, Coach?”

  Laughter bubbled up from somewhere near his toes. Untangling his fingers from her hair, he grasped her arms and dragged her up to meet him face-to-face. “You did very well,” he said gruffly. He kissed her hard and deep, tasting himself on her lips and tongue. “But remember, practice makes perfect.”

  She yelped when he grabbed her waist and hauled her up, but it turned into a giggle. She straddled his chest and glanced down at him, confused. He gave another tug, urging her to climb higher. It took only a second for his intent to sink in. A pink flush crept up her neck as her hands came to rest on his biceps. He resisted the urge to flex harder when she gave them an appreciative squeeze.

  One arched brow rose. “Up there?”

  He nodded and slid his hands down to cup her ass. Parting the muscular curves, he trailed his fingers along the crevice until he grazed her wet folds. “I’m going to lick and suck you just like you did me. I want to watch you come.” He flashed a wicked smile. “I’m more than happy to let you come out on top in the bedroom.”

  She laughed as her knees sank into the pillow. Her weight shifted the filling enough to lift his head higher. Thanking God for whichever science covered volume and displacement, he stared, transfixed by the vision hovering above him. Her pussy was a mouthwatering shade of pink he’d swear he’d never seen anywhere else in nature. The lips swollen, dark curls glistening with desire. He barely gave her enough time to wrap her hands around the rail of the headboard before he pulled her down onto his face, burying his nose in her folds. He thrust his tongue into her, hungry for the tang of her arousal.

  Kate gasped and then moaned, her hips circling in a silent plea that screamed yes-more-please. The tips of his fingers dug into her ass. He held her firm against his mouth, fucking her with an eagerness he hadn’t felt in years.

  He’d always enjoyed eating pussy but never considered it essential to his own pleasure. Until now. He circled her clit, then thrust again, desperate to consume her. And Christ, how she responded. Undulating against him, grinding against lips, teeth, and tongue. She was every bit as greedy for him as he was to give it to her.

  She tossed her head back, her arms locking as she gripped the headboard. He sucked gently on the hypersensitive flesh at her apex and used his fingers to tease her swollen folds until she spread her knees even wider. Her soft, desperate mewls of excitement and frustration drove him. He slid a single finger into her slick channel but withdrew before she could fully engage.

  “Dammit, Danny,” she ground out.

  He chuckled, nuzzling the impossibly soft skin on the inside of her thigh. “That’s right, cuss me. You know I’m perverse. The more lip you give me, the more determined I am to fuck you every way I can.”

  His lips closed around her clit, employing gentle but persistent suction to distract her as he slipped a finger into her again. This time, he gave her two hard pumps, then pulled out and applied the slightest hint of pressure to the tight pucker of her anus.

  “Oh!”

  He slipped another finger into her pussy. “Now, you tell me, Kate. I
s this what you want?”

  “God yes.”

  He pressed the wet digit into her ass but made it only as far as the first knuckle when she began to unravel. Eyes wide open, he watched her. There couldn’t be anything sexier than Kate Snyder in the throes. The woman gave nothing less than one hundred and ten percent. Her head thrown back in abandon. The creamy skin of her throat exposed and vulnerable. She was incredible. Bucking against him, fucking his mouth and fingers, taking what she needed from him and giving him…everything.

  She moaned her release to the ceiling, her arms straight and locked, and the posts of the headboard banging against the wall. Her skin glowed in the low light. Flushed and dewy with sweat, she was as ripe as a fresh peach. For the first time in his life, he thought he might understand the world’s fascination with vampires. And maybe fruitarians. Either way, he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into her.

  The second the last shudder ran through her, she pressed up on the headboard and jerked away from him. He grunted, bewildered by her abrupt withdrawal. Her whimpers and pants whispered through the room. Her pink pussy remained suspended above him but frustratingly out of reach. He tried to pull her back down, but she resisted, shaking her head in emphatic refusal.

  “Sorry. Sorry.” She panted the words, breathless but heartfelt. The mattress dipped, and he bounced slightly when she threw herself onto the bed beside him. “Sometimes…too sensitive just after,” she managed at last, shooting him an apologetic glance.

  Relieved that she wasn’t rejecting him outright, he reached for the limp hand she waved between them and grabbed her wrist. Contact was contact, and his need to keep touching her while she came down was almost overwhelming. He pulled her arm over and kissed the tender skin at the base of her palm. “I get you.”

  “You do, don’t you?”

  “I think so. I think you might get me too.”

  She drew three more deep breaths. He could feel the throb of her pulse slowing. “This is bad,” she whispered at last.