“I had to exceed the speed limit by fifteen miles per hour to almost keep up with you.” I smack him when I reach him. “What’s the hurry, Landry?”
His arms fall around me, his hands locking at the small of my back. He pulls me to him. “You are the hurry,” he whispers. “Next time we ride together.”
We exchange a look and I read exactly what he’s saying: that he doesn’t want to rush this, even though he does. I’m feeling the same way. The ride over gave me a second to regain some control and I want to keep that. At least for a bit.
He laces his fingers through mine and leads me to the front door. A key switches in the lock and we step inside.
“Bachelor pad much?” I comment, taking in the interior. It’s stark white walls and light gold carpeting mixed in with dark hardwood and bright white tile. It’s expensive with all the trendy, newer hallmarks yet lacks a feel of being lived in. Even the pictures dotting the walls look like they were hung up there solely to break the vacant feeling.
He shrugs. “I don’t live here much. I’m on the road half the year and the other half, I’m usually out with friends or visiting my family.” He shrugs again.
“There are no personal touches at all,” I note. “This doesn’t feel like you, Landry.”
He cocks his head to the side. “What feels like me?”
“Well,” I gulp, looking around again. “Something more masculine. Warmer colors, maybe. I expected art, for some reason.”
He grins. “I agree.” He turns away and heads into the kitchen. “Want a drink?”
“Uh, sure.” I follow him into a room at the back of the house. Viking range, stainless steel refrigerator, marble countertops—it’s a kitchen to die for. But I’m pretty sure it’s never actually been used.
After offering me from a basic selection of drinks, he hands me a glass. We both take sips, feeling each other out. Finally, I break the ice.
“What do you do when you’re home? I’ve heard a lot of athletes play video games or work out for hours on end. What’s your jam?”
“I lift some. Run some. Play a little video games, but I’m pretty much over that. Some guys do it all the time though. I don’t know how they do.”
“I’ve never gotten into that whole thing,” I say. “I’ve heard yoga is really good for athletes. It stretches you all out in different ways.”
He makes a face. “I’ll be your yoga instructor. Stretch you out in all kinds of ways.”
I swipe at him playfully, making him laugh.
“No to yoga,” he says. “It’s a girlie thing. Unless you’re doing it and then I’ll stand right behind you.”
“Oh, that’s what I want you to see! My ass in downward facing dog.”
His eyes darken. “I’d love to see you from every angle.”
My mouth goes dry from his gaze. This is the moment I’ve waited on for days now, the situation I’ve fantasized about. With a slightly shaking hand, I reach for his belt and being undoing it.
His eyes hood, making me squirm. I yelp as his hands find my waist and I’m hoisted in a circle and sat on top of the cool marble. His hands are on either side of me, caging me in.
“What are you waiting on?” I pant, cupping his face in my hands. His cheeks are rough, the stubble biting into my skin. He watches me, his gaze penetrating mine.
“It’s different this time, don’t you think?”
“How?”
“I know what you’re going to feel like, what you sound like, what you taste like.”
“How do you know that?” I pant.
“You don’t think I tasted you off my fingers before?”
“Oh, God,” I moan.
“But tonight, I get to experience you. Feel you. Taste you first hand. Feel you squirt in my mouth—”
“Stop,” I say like I’ve run a mile.
“Spread your legs, beautiful.”
With no hesitation, I part my legs as his hands cup my ass and he slides me to the end of the marble. He wastes no time sliding his tongue into my mouth, caressing mine. I forget about my parted legs until his knuckles brush against the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. I shudder.
His left hand is on the back of my head, keeping my head from pulling away from him. I can barely compute anything; too many fireworks are exploding in too many regions.
My thumbs brush his cheeks before I find the silky strands of his hair. Lacing my fingers through them, I tug slightly. It elicits a moan from his throat and that does it for me. I’m so wet I can feel it coating my legs. He does too because his eyes flash open for one brief moment, a look of pure lust written all over them. And when he realizes I’m not wearing any panties, I feel him melt against me.
He slips one finger, quickly followed by a second, into me. I suck in a breath, only to have it stolen by Lincoln’s kisses. He works his fingers in and out as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
Just as he’s finding a steady pace, he stops. Before I can object, I’m lifted by the waist. My legs instinctively wrap around him, his hands beneath the globes of my ass. The skin almost stings as his fingers kiss into my flesh.
I have no idea where we’re going, and I can’t even see from the merciless assault of his lips. We bump into walls, into corners, as he makes our way down a dark hallway.
Turning one corner a little too sharply, a picture falls from the wall and crashes on the floor. Gasping for air, I’m laid on a king-sized bed with silky silver-grey sheets. Sitting up, I try to work my zipper down in the back in a rush when I hear his voice low and gravelly.
“Let me,” he says.
I still. He peers down at me, a small smile on his lips. One knee is on the mattress, then the other. He is behind me in a flash. With a gentle hand, he brushes my hair to one shoulder and tugs on the zipper at my neck.
I shiver, more from his touch than the air hitting my exposed skin. Looking straight ahead, I feel the zipper slowly roll towards the small of my back. It finally hits the end. His hands, so rough and hardened, push the fabric at the shoulders so it falls to my waist. I feel his lips press a kiss at the base of my neck.
Glancing at him over the corner of my shoulder, I watch him unbutton his shirt. As each inch of skin is displayed, I feel my heartbeat pick up until the shirt is tossed on the floor, and I’m on the brink of a heart attack.
He steps off the bed and removes his shoes and pants. I shimmy out of my dress and toss it to the floor, freezing when I catch him staring at me.
“What?” I ask, feeling, for the first time, self-conscious.
“Damn, baby.”
“What?” I ask again, feeling my nipples harden under his observation.
“You just make me want to stand here and stare at you, you’re so goddamn beautiful.”
“Stop, Landry,” I blush. “Not that I’m opposed to appreciating the view because your body is seriously . . . You’re incredible.”
“I know.”
I burst out laughing, crooking my finger. “But now’s not the time for that. I need fucked.”
Using those stellar baseball reflexes, I’m on my back and he’s hovering over me before I see it coming.
“It’s about time,” I say breathlessly, slipping my hand between us and grabbing his cock. “Just like I thought.”
“What’s that?”
“Size thirteen.”
“What?”
“Never mind,” I giggle. “I want to feel you inside me.”
“You,” he says, his mouth up against my ear, “are going to be the death of me.”
“Don’t die until after you fuck me, please.”
He takes a nibble at the shell of my ear, making me shriek and writhe beneath him. He uses my movement against me, or for me, depending, and I feel his girth at my opening.
I still and hold my breath. His arms, those sinewy, muscled arms, cage me in on either side of my head. A sinful smirk plays on his lips as he swirls his hips and drags his cock through my wetness. I move, attempting to get so
me friction against my needy clit. I dig my nails into his ass to convince him to go.
“Do I need to use a condom?” he asks.
“I’m clean and on the pill,” I say.
“I get checked every six months. I’m clean.”
“Then get on with it, Landry, I—” My sentence is halted by a yelp as he pushes into me with one long, hard, owning push. “Ah!” I squeal, panting.
“You like that?”
“God, yes,” I breathe, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. He’s watching me and I’d like to be able to hold my ground and gaze, but I can’t. It’s impossible. He knows this. He likes this, the cocky bastard.
“You are so fucking sexy,” he almost growls as he strokes his cock in and out of my pussy. “Damn it, Dani. You feel better than I even imagined.”
“Do I?” I ask, reaching my hands behind me and gripping the pillows. “Do I turn you on, Landry?”
“You know you do. You feel how hard my cock is.”
“For me.”
“For you.”
“Ah!” I moan as his strokes become harder. “Yes! This!”
My entire body is on fire, my breasts bouncing with each thrust. He drives into me, hitting that spot in the back of my vagina that is a trigger to an orgasm. “I’m going to come.”
“Come all over my cock,” he growls.
“Fuck!” I scream as my vision is dotted with an array of colors. The build-up starts at my pussy and rolls, like lava, through my body. In a matter of seconds, I feel the energy pulsing through my toes and the top of my head. “Lincoln!”
He doesn’t slow down, just massages that spot with his swollen head. When my eyes can open again, I see his skin is broken out in a glisten of sweat.
Pulling his cock out so just the tip sits in my opening, he grins. “Up.” He rocks back on his heels.
Confused and still out of breath, I try to sit up. He bends down, touching his lips to mine, before wrapping an arm around my waist and twisting me on my hands and knees. A quick slap collides with my bare ass.
“Hold on, baby,” he says.
Before I can hold on or get my wits about me, he’s once again at my opening and thrusting in.
“Shit,” I mutter, clenching my teeth. One hand grips the bend of my waist, the other sitting on the end of my spine. His thumb plays against my ass, applying concerted pressure over the opening in the back. “I can’t,” I groan, knowing good and well that I can. And I want to.
He chuckles behind me. “We’ll save that for another day.”
“One day at a—” I start but am stopped by another smack to my rear. “Landry!”
He laughs again, both hands now digging into my sides, as he builds me up with quick, powerful strokes.
“You feel so good,” he growls, finding that spot once again. “I can’t hold back for long.”
I wait a few thrusts, making sure the rush of the climax is coming. Once the sparks start shooting through my veins, I yell, “I’m coming!”
He grunts behind me, going harder than ever before. Hearing him come apart only adds to the intensity of my own fall. My arms can’t hold up, turning to jelly, and I make it just until his last hiss of breath before I collapse onto my belly.
In an instant, he’s curled up behind me, dragging me into him.
I’m going to have to get up and clean myself in a second. But for now, I’ll stay right here, tucked safely in the arms of this delicious man.
Danielle
I SNUGGLE IN CLOSER, ONE arm draped across his chest and dangling off the side. There should be no cuddling right now. I should be in my damn car and driving home. Alas, here I am. Tucked into his side. Feeling him draw what I believe are baseballs on my back with the tip of his finger.
“I’m hungry now,” he says.
“Well, I’m not cooking.”
“Damn right you’re not.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I had to fight like hell to get you into my bed. You aren’t wasting time by spending it in my kitchen.”
I just snuggle into him more.
“I like when you do that,” he admits. “It makes me feel . . . happy, I think.”
“You think it makes you happy? That’s a weird thing to say.”
“Maybe.” He kisses the top of my head. “Things feel different these days.”
“How?”
His chest rises as he fills it with air. “I’m not sure,” he says finally. “Before this injury, I didn’t have time to think about much. I just went from game to practice to game to a party. I didn’t just lie in bed and contemplate the world, you know?”
“So you’re lying here considering world peace?” I tease. “Good to know.”
“The only piece I’m thinking about right now is this one,” he says, turning onto his side and looking at me in the eye. “I’ve just had some time to myself without anything to do. It’s made me think about things.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” He gives me a grin I haven’t seen before. It’s sweet and soft and I want to lift up and press a kiss to his parted lips. So I do.
Nestling back against him, I’m falling hard and fast just like I knew I would. He’s too easy to be around—too kind, too sexy, too sweet. I can try to play like I don’t realize it, but it would be a big, fat lie. I don’t know that it’s love or just unbridled lust, but whatever it is, it has me wrapped up tight.
“You know you’re all I’ve been thinking about right?” he whispers.
My heart stills. I let my fingers drift up his bicep and back down again, watching the goosebumps pop up in their wake. “Sounds about right,” I joke.
“Who’s cocky now?” he laughs.
“Cocky? I call it logical. You think about me. It happens. But prepare yourself: you’ll just think about me more now that you’ve had me in the sack.”
“That’s the truth.”
I feel him quiet against me, his palm lying flat against the top of my ass. It’s a long couple of minutes before he outlines what I think are baseball bats.
“Where does this put us?” he asks. Hope drips through the question and lands right on my heart.
I pull away and look up in his eyes. My own hope is reeling all too high and I have to be smart. “Let’s just take it one day at a time.”
“I told you,” he says, “I’m always a step ahead. We call it a bird-dog step in baseball.” He lets his head burrow into the down pillow and he pulls me up under his chin again. “Why won’t you just admit you want to be with me?”
“I will admit it,” I say simply. “I want to be with you.”
“You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met.”
I smile. “I’m not confusing. I’m fairly simple, actually.”
“Then help me out here, Ms. Simplicity. If you know you want to be with me, and it’s obvious I want to be with you,” he says, rolling his hips against me so I can feel him, “why aren’t we together?”
“We are.” I swing a leg over his hips. “Feel me? I’m here. With you. Together.”
He sighs in frustration. “Okay, let’s try this another way. Most women are all over me.”
I roll my eyes, even though I’m sure it’s true.
“I can’t help it,” he winks. “But you—I feel like I want you more than you want me and that’s really fucking weird.”
“I don’t think that’s true. Arrogant on your part, but not true,” I laugh.
“Then help a guy out,” he groans. “Fix my ego.”
“Your ego is fine.”
“And you’re deflecting, babe.”
I roll away from him so he can’t see my face. “You bring things way too close to home for me. That’s the truth,” I tell him.
“Go on . . .”
“Getting involved with you puts me one step closer to becoming my mother, and that’s the one thing I’ve promised myself I won’t be.”
I’ve never admitted that out loud before a
nd it’s a damn personal thing to admit to the man that’s pretty much from the perfect family. It’s also embarrassing.
“Hey,” he says. His arm drapes over me. “What’s this all about? You don’t want to be like your mother? What’s that have to do with me?”
“My father was in sports,” I say, glossing over the topic. “My mother ended up losing both him and herself to the game. Professional athletes are where they are because it’s their passion, the one thing that matters more than any other. You wouldn’t be where you are if that weren’t true.”
“Dani . . .”
I turn so I can see him over my shoulder. “I promised myself I’d never be like them. I’d never put those I love second to a game, and I’d never let another person take the game over me.”
“I’m not taking anything over anyone.”
“But you would,” I say, fighting my voice from breaking. “I get that. I respect it even. You can do something only a handful of people in the world can do. You have a giant opportunity in front of you. But I don’t want to be crushed as you go crushing the world.”
“I’d never crush you.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” I say, touching his cheek. “At least not on purpose. But it’s more than that.” My hand falls and I take a deep breath. “It’s not being crushed but it’s not having a life like my mother too. Waiting on my guy to come home. Hoping he calls. Listening to statistics over dinner and trying to get your man to squeeze some time for you in the middle of a couple of hundred games. It’s not the life I want. That life broke her. I watched it. I don’t even really have parents because of it. What I want out of life is the polar opposite.”
His features crease, his eyes darkening, as he takes that in. The soberness of his expression makes me think maybe he realizes how right I am, just how much I know what his life is like. And how this thing between us can never deepen too much.
“I like the way things are between us,” I say, my voice soft. “You are so much fun. Smart. Sexy as hell. But we really need to try to keep it on this level.”
“I feel like this is completely unfair,” he says, a sort of laugh in his voice that doesn’t mean he’s amused. “Out of all the chicks that want me, I have to like you.”
Swing Page 9
