“I suppose we have time for another lesson,” she sighed, standing abruptly so that I could smell a rich, musky waft of her feminine desire as she inched closer. “But this time, we’ll try something a little more… comfortable.”
“Such as?” I asked, taking the hand she offered.
“My bed, of course,” she replied saucily, helping me up from the couch and grabbing my crutches. I gazed hungrily at her ripe, round ass. I’d never taken the time to study the female body before. Then again, I’d never had the time before! Since high school—okay, if truth be told, since my first week in junior high—I’d been fucking and sucking on the regular, always with the same rapid pace I still practiced to this day.
I’d get a girl in my sights, charm her with some football mumbo jumbo, flex a muscle or two, make it clear this was a no strings attached offer so there were no hurt feelings later—and get them to understand if they weren’t interested, someone else would be in a hot second. Sure, I wasn’t proud that I’d gotten so good at the masterful art of deception, but it felt so damn good every time it worked—and it always worked—I could hardly complain.
The only problem was it was a quick, hit it and quit it, one and done scenario, so fast I barely knew what happened before our clothes hit the floor and we started doing the deed. Whether the room was light or dark, inside or outside, daytime or nighttime, I barely had time to know what color hair the chick had before I nutted, signaling our time together was over. If she came or not—wasn’t my problem. And so far, no one had complained.
Sure, I knew what tits and ass looked like—I’d seen plenty in my day. But never this leisurely. I’d never carefully studied the ripeness and curves of a girl’s butt. The delicate dimples of the small of her back, her damp hair sticking to her shoulders or the sound of her bare feet padding on the hardwood floor in the hallway leading to her room.
I couldn’t help but savor every detail as my desire grew with every hobble. At last we reached Avery’s room, small but tidy as she swept the door open to reveal a single bed, a desk and chair, a bureau and nightstand and not much else.
An open window let in the chilly fall air and the sound of the city street below. An orange streetlight cast the room in a hazy glow. She reached to close it and I stopped her. “No,” I said, still managing to sound plaintive even as I barked an order. “I… I kind of like it.”
I put my hand on her bare shoulder to still her and turning gently, she nodded. “Okay,” she said, voice low and husky as my body shivered in reply. We were naked, still damp and sticky, a few inches apart as my desire made it clear I was ready, willing and able to start Round 2. “How about, this time, you tell me what to do.”
“Really?” I asked. Almost… disappointed. I’d enjoyed being Avery’s willing student but more importantly—her panting plaything. “Anything I want?”
“Within reason,” she said, patting the edge of the bed as we both sank onto the squeaky mattress.
“Such as?”
“You can call the shots this time,” she said, gently brushing one hand against my knee as if to get my attention. “As long as you play by two rules. First, hands and fingers only and second—”
“No lips?” I asked, gently leaning forward to kiss her. It was a long, slow kiss, simmering and stirring as Avery squirmed and managed to break away. “No tongue?”
“Not this time,” she teased, hinting at another time.
I thought for a moment, still tasting her on my tongue but just as eager to feel her under my fingertips—even if that was the only way she’d let me feel her. “Fine,” I sighed, as if disappointed. “And Rule #2?”
“It’s still just foreplay, remember?” she said. “I don’t… I don’t sleep with guys on the first date.”
“Is that what this is?” I asked, genuinely curious. It had been so long since I’d been on one, I wasn’t sure if this actually qualified.
“Buster,” she said, sliding her hand higher up my thigh as I literally flinched—then throbbed—with excitement. “You’ve made me come a dozen or more times so far so, yeah… I’d consider this a date!”
“Well,” I teased, spreading my thighs and inviting her hand higher. “Maybe I don’t consider anything less than two dozen orgasms a date!”
Avery laughed, as she squeezed my inner thigh with both purpose and passion. “Well then, stud muffin,” she said, her fingers sliding higher until they brushed across my balls. “I guess we better get started then, shouldn’t we?”
I shifted so that my balls slid perfectly into the palm of her hand. “I think we just did, Avery,” I teased, feeling her grip, gentle—yet eager—as she began to caress and tease them.
“I think you’re right, Craig,” she purred, and the look in her eyes made it clear she felt the throb in my cock when she spoke my name.
Nine
Avery
I rose just after dawn, the open window letting in the day’s first sunlight. I lay as if in a dream, squeezing my eyes shut and wanting the soft, gentle feel of Craig’s body against mine to last forever. But I knew it wouldn’t, knew it couldn’t. I opened them to find him sprawled out beside me, breathlessly beautiful in the soft morning glow that caressed every inch of his long, lean, still naked body.
We’d only fallen asleep an hour or two earlier, our bodies sated and sticky and apparently, unable to stand another minute’s pleasure as we drifted off in each other’s arms. I’d slept fitfully, somehow convincing myself it was only a dream that Craig Robinson was actually in my bed before I’d peel my eyes open to find him still there, snoring softly into my hair.
He’d held me close for the longest time, our bodies fitting together like wet, sticky puzzle pieces as the curtains rustled fitfully above my cheap, wood grain headboard. At some point, he must have let me go, tossing and turning as he stole the sheets and then tossed those aside as well.
I rose softly, not wanting to disturb him even though a quick glance at the clock told me my roommate, Missy, would be home any minute. My bed was small and Craig was so big, he took up most of it. He was on his side, one knee slightly up, arms over his head and hugging a random throw pillow.
His ass was hairless, round and flawless. The small of his back just as beautiful as his ass. I sighed with desire, even as I ached all over from the night we’d shared together, the things we’d done to each other and the many, many times Craig had made me come.
Knowing there was no time for such delights, I gently rose from the bed, stopping and starting with each new squeak or creak. It didn’t matter—Craig was out like a light. I pulled on a fresh pair of panties and a soft terry robe before creeping toward the door.
I paused, my hand on the knob, turning to admire Craig’s naked, sleeping form once more. He snored softly and shifted. I had to turn away from the gorgeous vision before I climbed back into bed to wake him and get some more of his sexy bod.
Outside the door, pulling it shut as quietly as possible, I marveled at my audacity and did a fist pump into the air. “Score!” I half yelled half whispered. I couldn’t believe I’d had the courage to bring Craig home with me in the first place—let alone tease and taunt him for a full twelve hours!
I stumbled—mostly through muscle memory—into the morning routine of making a pot of coffee. The brewing pot roused my spirits but not more so than the sound of bare feet approaching.
For whatever reason, I tugged my robe tighter around me. Craig hadn’t seen me in clothes for most of the evening, so why it mattered this morning now seemed ridiculous to me. But, I wasn’t alone. Craig also bashfully covered himself as he dressed quickly in his sweatpants and T-shirt from the night before.
“Morning,” he said softly as I handed him a mug of coffee.
“Morning,” I purred, soft and bashful myself. “I wasn’t… sure how you took it.”
“Strong and black,” he said, raising the mug to his lips. “You?”
“A little creamer never hurts,” I murmured, reaching for the container o
n the counter next to the coffee pot.
“I’ll try that,” he said, making me wonder if he was naturally curious or just eager to please. I poured a few dollops into his cup just the same, watching him smack his lips appreciatively after taking an appreciative sip. “Yum,” he said, so awkwardly it was as if we’d never even met.
I snorted, perhaps punch drunk after so little sleep—and so many orgasms. “Uhm… something makes me think you’re not really used to sticking around until morning.”
He snorted so hard he nearly spit coffee onto the kitchen counter. “What makes you say that?” he asked, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
“Nothing really.” The stilted conversation and awkward glances made me realize Craig was as eager to leave as I was for him to stay. “Just a casual observation.”
Our eyes met, and the way he quickly looked away just confirmed my suspicions that the spell was broken. “Well,” I set my mug down on the counter. “My roommate Missy should be here any minute, so…”
“Oh, yeah, sure. I mean, well…”
His voice trailed off, looking around the room as if he’d forgotten something.
“Don’t forget these,” I said, handing him his crutches.
He took them and slid them under each armpit with a wry grin. “You made me feel so good last night,” he murmured, as if embarrassed to recall all we’d done to each other, “I hardly felt any pain.”
“Only the good kind, right?” I teased, still managing to play the coquette even as our wild night came to an abrupt and unlikely end.
He looked confused for a minute until he remembered the bittersweet sensation of teasing and denial we’d enjoyed all night. At one point, I’d been tempted to break my own rules and sleep with him. Now, seeing his face looking wary and cautious in the early morning light—I was glad I didn’t.
“Yeah,” he muttered, antsy and anxious to go. “Well, thanks… I guess?”
I steeled my nerves and inched toward the door, feeling cold and lonely already—almost used. My hand never trembled once as I reached for the doorknob, but my voice did. “Thank you, Craig. Thanks for… everything.”
He smirked and opened his mouth to say something. Then he must’ve thought better of it and peered around the hallway as if he might get caught. He inched just outside the door, banging his crutches clumsily against the door jamb. Turning one last time, he smiled. “I… I had a great time last night.”
I nearly groaned at the cliché, but summoning my last ounce of courage, I managed to tease him one last time. “Don’t forget this morning, stud.”
He laughed a little, stepping from foot to foot and leaning on his crutches in a back and forth motion like a kid who needed to go to the bathroom.
“How could I?” He glanced down the empty hallway again. “I mean, I don’t think… I know I’ll never forget last night.”
“Me either, Craig,” I said as the finality of his blow-off made my heart sink and my stomach feel full of lead. “See ya. Take care.”
He seemed relieved to be free. “You too,” he said, our eyes meeting one last time before he nodded, opened his mouth to say something more and foregoing it, turned and left without another word. I watched him go, hobbling from side to side on his crutches, but not for long. Turning, I shut the door before he’d turned down the hallway, wanting to remember his sweet, nervous smile instead of his quick, painful getaway.
The back of the door was cold as I sagged against it, struggling with my emotions as the apartment grew silent around me. I shouldn’t have been sad. I mean, what girl wouldn’t kill for a one-night stand with Craig Robertson?
As I peeled myself off the door and inched toward the kitchen, desperate for another cup of coffee, I realized I might have been the lone exception. Because after spending the entire night with him, I realized one wasn’t going to be enough. I wanted more from Craig Robinson, even if he never wanted to see me again.
Ten
Craig
The air was crisp, but not quite cold, as I limped across campus, struggling with the thoughts buzzing around in my head—and the fact that I’d left my hoodie at Avery’s place. I wasn’t going to turn back now to get it, not after she booted me out so quickly. I’d deal with it later. I had to get my head straight.
I thought the unexpected high I felt crossing campus might be from Avery’s strong morning coffee blend, but it wasn’t caffeine I was feeling, it was something else.
Lord knows I’d had my share of one night stands, and even took the walk of shame across campus many times—but never feeling the way I did right now. Normally, I couldn’t wait to bolt the next morning—that was, if I’d even bothered to stay the night—but to stay all night, and then want to stay longer?
Never happened. Until now.
I shook my head, ignoring the well wishes of passers-by as they saw me making a beeline toward the athletic dorm on the far side of State Street. I didn’t even care who saw me the day after I’d left the game. Probably not my best athletic move. Jesus, I hadn’t even bothered to see if we’d won. I had my answer really quick, though. Not surprising, considering the small size of the Worthington University campus.
“Tough break,” said one guy, a young professor with a messenger bag slung over one shoulder. “I really thought you guys would make it to Districts this year!”
I shrugged, gripping the rubber handles of my crutches as if to emphasize it wasn’t all my fault. He nodded and shuffled off toward the Science Building. The refrain continued across campus as I limped, homeward bound:
“Tough break, man!”
“Rough hit, dude!”
“You’ll get ‘em next year, tiger!”
I barely heard them. I heard only the echoes of Avery’s soft, urgent whimpers as she came, again and again, beneath my touch. I didn’t feel the cool breeze on my bare arms, or the sun on my face, but only the heat of her touch, hot and tender all over my body. I didn’t notice the cafés or smoothie shops, the ATMs or campus lounges as I walked through campus—only Avery’s body, soft and supple as she contorted with another fiery climax.
After all we’d done to each other over the last twelve or so hours, I found it kind of funny to limp along. The sounds, feelings and sensations I’d felt with her made me harden all over again. Which was a slight problem walking with crutches.
I thought each stiff painful step back to my dorm would break the spell Avery had on me, but the exact opposite was true. The farther away from her I got, the more I wanted to rush back into her arms. She was the sexiest, most dangerous woman I’d ever met.
It wasn’t her obvious beauty that made her so intoxicating, although she was beautiful in her own unique way. I’d certainly been with better looking girls. In fact, my only criteria so far had been just that—purely physical.
Big tits? Get in my bed.
Long legs? Wrap ‘em around my waist.
Nice ass? We’re doin’ it doggy style tonight, baby!
Conversation ranged from the purely functional, such as, “Do you have a rubber?” to cheesy one liners like “Treat my pussy like the end zone and score a touchdown!” Drinks were always involved and yet, walking home from Avery’s, I realized it was the first post-game Saturday morning in ages I didn’t have a hangover.
Is this why I’m so spellbound?
I neared the empty intersection, winding my way home one solemn step at a time. But I knew the way I felt was more than just being sober after a Friday night. I pushed the button for the walk signal and waited to cross State Street, the athletic dorms just ahead, towering over every other building on campus.
As I rode the elevator alone to the 14th floor, no doubt the rest of the jocks in the building sleeping another Friday night bender off, I knew Avery was special. More than special. Smart, kind, sincere and completely ignorant of my on-campus rep. She was a blank slate I could start clean with. Someone who didn’t know my sordid past, and even if she did, wouldn’t judge me for it. All she knew of me was what I
’d shown her the previous night—my soft, vulnerable side. My patient, tender, giving side. I could be that guy. Hell, I wanted to be that guy, and with Avery, I could make it happen.
I knew the minute I reached my door, leaning my crutches against the outer wall as I fumbled for my keys, that I’d see her again. I just had to find a way to do it. I stepped inside, my leg tingly after the walk across campus. Tossing my crutches aside, I reached, grabbed and limped my way around my apartment using whatever corners and end tables I could.
Eventually, I was at the kitchen counter, leaning against the open fridge door, reaching for a bottle of neon green sports drink. Despite the dose of caffeine Avery had given me before booting me out her door that morning, and the rush of adrenaline I’d felt crossing campus, I still felt drained from the one-two punch of Friday night’s game and the long, sexy night with her.
Gulping down the sour melon drink, I felt a little more energized and suddenly realized since the team had lost the game, we weren’t going to Districts, and there would be no more football until the following year.
That meant I’d have to clean my locker out for another year, a chore I never looked forward to and thanks to my injured leg, I was going to enjoy even less this year.
I screwed up my face, the sports drink growing more sour with every swallow, until visions of steam, sweat and locker room benches began to fill my head. My heart began to race, my palms grew sweaty and I reached in my back pocket for my cell phone, realizing… holy shit, I hadn’t even asked for Avery’s digits!
“Damn!” I growled out loud, peering out my kitchen window at the courtyard below and the campus just across State Street, where the campus bookstore resided. Didn’t… hadn’t she said she worked there? I turned toward the fridge. In between postcards from home and random chick’s phone numbers scribbled on wet cocktail napkins, I found a magnet for Pages, the campus bookstore.
Time Out: A Holiday Sports Romance Page 5
