I wondered if it was the thrill of doing the unexpected, or the fear of getting caught that drove her, but I secretly hoped it was something more basic and personal—me. Seeing her naked again in the bright locker room lights, made me realize just how hopelessly smitten I was.
Now, powerless against her soft, soapy hands, I knew I was lost. No other girl had ever made me feel the way Avery did, both emotionally and physically. Lost in the moment, I gave myself over to her in a way I knew could have serious repercussions in the weeks and months to come. I was the star quarterback-slash-player in this school.
“My turn,” I growled playfully, gently slipping from her soapy grasp before I blasted a load all over her in three seconds flat.
“If you insist,” she said, following my lead as I changed places with her beneath the shower spray. Her body was quickly doused, her hair wet and clinging to her shoulders as I reached for the soap and lathered both hands. I started with her shoulders, and worked her over from head to toe, taking my time with her.
Avery responded to my movements, purring like a kitten as I lathered her entire body. Inspired by her reaction, I took each wrist, gently tugged her arms above her head and pinned her against the wall in front of me.
Her eyebrows arched in a silent question mark as I murmured, “Let me take you, Avery. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
She nodded silently, shivering as I kept her hands held above her head with my left hand and continued to arouse her with my right. Her nipples were fierce and taut as my hand brushed against them, and drove her into a gasping moan when I circled each one with my fingertips.
Her open mouth murmured unintelligible things through full, wet lips and I widened my circular motions from around her nipples to her entire breast. First one, then the other, delicately caressing every inch until her hips wiggled in anticipation.
Heat rose from her pussy as my fingertips slithered down her soft belly. She gulped and groaned as I found her bush, running my fingers through the wet, slippery hair as, lower and lower, I neared the source of that fiery furnace.
I took my time, the water spray dancing off my back as I held tight to Avery’s wrists in my left hand. She squirmed but never tried to take them down, signaling she was enjoying being taken as much as I was enjoying taking her.
At last, my fingertips dragged lower, rasping suddenly across her lower lips. She gasped, and I bent to kiss her open mouth, tasting the desire and passion in her wet, fiery embrace. I held my mouth there, my lips crushing her own, denying us both of precious oxygen as I pressed my fingers firmly against her clit.
She thrust her hips forward, whimpering sweet sounds in my mouth until at last our lips parted and we turned our heads in opposite directions, starved for air and our pleasure heightened by the air-locked kiss. She hardly needed further encouragement as I used my fingers to circle and press against her slippery clitoris.
I could feel—and hear—her nearing her first orgasm. Her breath came in increasingly ragged breaths, a low, deep wheeze that bathed my chest with hot, wet air as she bucked and writhed faster and faster, fucking my fingers each time I pressed or teased her vulnerable flesh.
I peered at her pussy, pink and swollen, her clit begging beyond its soft, wet hood. Exposed and vulnerable, I traced across it again and again, slower and slower each time, letting her crescendo build and mount as I felt her entire body trembling.
Avery came—powerfully. Panting and gasping, pressing against my fingertips as I stroked her and pressed tight against her swollen clit as it pulsed and ground against my fingers.
Her heat and moisture washed over my hand as I held it there and then gently, moved it around. She came again, the sensations apparently too much for her once she’d gotten started. I was more than happy to comply, rasping and pressing wet fingertips around, across and against her swollen, sweet pussy.
She came again, greedy and insatiable as her body tingled and shook until she wriggled her hands free and clung to me, breathlessly peppering my face with soft, wet kisses. “Thank you,” she said against my cheek between warm, eager whispers in my ear. “Thank you for… all of this.”
“Don’t thank me till it’s over,” I murmured, kissing her back, pinning her against the wall with a long, tender embrace.
“Please don’t let it end,” she begged before wriggling free and, turning to face the wall, offering herself to me willingly. “Please, Craig, say it will last forever…”
“That’s a lot to ask when I’m looking at a slice of heaven,” I murmured, caressing the warm fleshy cheeks of her ass with both hands as I inched closer, my cock hard and ready as it slid between the crack. “But I promise to try…”
She nodded, hair wet and clinging to her bare shoulders as she pressed her face against the wall, palms flat above her. I gripped her tiny waist, feeling my rigid prick dance along the crack of her ass. She murmured and moaned, eyes closed as I slid the tip inside, sensing the heat of her wet, slick pussy and diving in head first.
She gasped and we froze in mid-fuck. Her pussy so hot and wet, I nearly came on contact. She nearly did, too. I could sense it in her shaking, trembling thighs and the way the walls of her pussy clamped even tighter around my greedy cock.
“Fuck me, Craig,” she murmured, wiggling her ass just enough to bury my shaft deeper inside her, inching deeper and deeper with every breath. “Fuck me from behind.”
I complied just as eagerly as before, thrusting in and out of her juicy, wet pussy. My cock became doused with her juices, hot and wet as I did just what she’d asked—I fucked her right royal and proper.
How I lasted more than five seconds is beyond me. Staring at her wet body, dripping from the shower, watching her ass move and feeling her pussy lips clinging to every inch as I rocked into her and then dragged myself from deep inside.
I reached around, clasping each breast in my hand as I pumped and thrusted, tweaking and pinching each nipple until we came together, cussing and moaning. I captured my glorious orgasm just in time, quickly pulling out from deep in her pussy to blast across her backside, the stream so powerful, you would have thought it was my first time.
“Jesus,” I mumbled as I milked myself onto the small of her back, marveling at the way my come drizzled down the crack of her ass and ran down her thigh, and what’s more—how she wriggled and begged for more. “Jesus.”
Avery turned around with a big smile on her face and gave me a soft, gentle kiss before pushing me back beneath the spray to soap and lather each other off.
“How long did you say the janitors had off?”
“All weekend,” I murmured as she lathered and caressed my useless prick.
“Hmmm,” she said, squeezing me for emphasis. “That’s not much time.”
“For what?” I asked, knowing full well what she meant but eager to hear it from her own mouth.
“To explore every nook and cranny of this place,” she teased, dancing from the spray and grabbing a fresh white towel from the stack by the stall entrance. “Who knows,” she added, drying herself off provocatively before wrapping the towel loosely around her body. “I may never get another chance to fuck the quarterback in the locker room again.”
“Come to think of it,” I said, taking the towel she offered and drying myself off casually. “There is the sauna to explore. And the therapy tub, and the break room…”
“Then what are we waiting for?” she chuckled, grabbing my hand and clinging tightly to the towel around her, she led me from the showers toward the sauna doors.
“Nothing,” I said as she disappeared inside, lying the towel down like a blanket on the top bench and inviting me inside with a crook of one naughty finger. “Nothing at all…”
Thirteen
Avery
“You’re deserting me this year?”
My roommate, Missy Sinclair, poked her head back out of the fridge to address my growing outrage. “Not deserting you,” she lied, waving a peach margarita in the refrigerator l
ight for emphasis. “I just… haven’t gone home to see Dad since freshman year.”
I could have reminded her that we were only juniors this year. Or that this apartment was my home. Or that I really looked forward to our annual, daylong trip to the $1 Cinema downtown to watch bad horror movies all Thanksgiving Day. Or how much I enjoyed our annual trip to the bodega around the corner for a most untraditional holiday dinner, grabbing 2-for-1 bags of potato chips, beef jerky, cheap beer and Devil Dogs by the handful before giggling and snacking the whole way home.
“I know,” I said, curled on the couch with a cup of tea in hand after another long day at work. “I just… I’m going to miss you, that’s all.”
She sank into the battered leather chair across from me, crumpling up a faded fall pillow and burrowing into the patchwork autumn throw that always hung over one corner. “You don’t think I’ll miss you, Avery?” she said, sipping her drink after working at the Stop ‘N Go across from campus.
It was rare that we both got off work at the same time and while we’d normally be planning a fun night out together—or at least, our version of fun night out—Thanksgiving was fast approaching and all of Missy’s funds usually reserved for partying would now be going toward the gas money it would take to get her nine-year-old Toyota all the way out to Prairie, Texas. So instead here we sat, like two old women, sipping our very different drinks and facing our first Thanksgiving apart in three years.
“You could always come with?” she asked, only half-jokingly. “Think about it,” she continued as I started to shake my head, mostly out of habit. “It could be like one big road trip, an adventure. At least it would get you out of this apartment.”
I looked around the living room, cluttered but pleasant, and definitely serene. With Thanksgiving less than a few days away, the campus had already started to clear out, leaving the streets below quiet on this Sunday afternoon. “I dunno,” I shrugged, imagining the fun Craig and I might have with a whole holiday weekend to ourselves, even if it was just a fantasy. “Maybe I’ll just do the stuff we always do by myself.”
Missy frowned, her pale cheeks dimpling playfully beneath her shroud of blond curls. “Don’t you want to start some new Thanksgiving traditions with Craig Robinson?”
I blushed to hear his name, instantly regretting that I’d finally fessed up about how I’d spent the last few days. Not that I’d told her every gory detail, but in a rare moment of weakness, I’d gushed about picking him up after the game that Friday night and I might have bragged a little about cleaning out his locker, making Missy green with jealousy and blistering in her curiosity.
“I’m sure he’ll go home, too,” I murmured, my body still tingling from what he’d done to me in the sauna—and the hot tub—as late afternoon turned to late evening—and then morning—in the locker room.
“Don’t you know?” she teased before taking another swig of her flavored margarita.
“No,” I snorted, rolling my eyes. “I… I have no idea what his plans are for the holiday.”
“Why not?” Missy pressed. “I mean, if I was getting down and dirty with the hottest jock on campus, I’d lock that shit down pronto!”
“I know you would,” I chuckled and rather than be offended, Missy simply laughed. “But clingy, high-maintenance isn’t exactly my style, you know?”
“Oh, and banging the quarterback in the showers is? Public shower I might add.”
We both laughed, my cheeks hot with blush, my head shaking slightly. “It’s not public, public. But, I guess you’re right,” I confessed. “I should talk to him about something other than sex, you know, but—”
“I didn’t say that!” Missy teased. “I just meant you should talk to him about how much sex to plan on this Thanksgiving, that’s all. I doubt he’s much of a conversationalist anyway.”
“But he is,” I insisted. “I mean, he’s actually really fun and quite amusing, and—”
“That’s just the sex talking,” Missy said. “Trust me, they could be speaking Serbian after getting me off and I’d think it was Shakespeare.”
“It’s more than that,” I pressed. “He makes me laugh as much as he makes me—”
“Come?” she teased, knowing I didn’t appreciate dirty talk. “Orgasm? Climax?”
“Yes,” I gasped, rolling with nervous laughter and tossing a fall leaf throw pillow at her to shut her up. “But I really mean it.”
She shrugged, easing back against the chair and tugging the throw around her as she began to wind down from her latest 10-hour shift. “Maybe he is everything you say,” she said, the weariness and cool weather catching up with her as she curled up in a ball. “I just couldn’t look past the chiseled features and rock hard bod to find out.”
I shrugged. “Trust me,” I sighed, “it’s not easy, but in those quiet moments, he’s really fun to be around.”
“Yeah, well,” she said drowsily as she tugged the patchwork throw over her Stop ‘N Go work blouse, “better come up with an excuse, and quick, before your mom asks you over.”
I smirked. “Not a problem this year,” I said.
“What?” Missy asked, genuinely surprised. “No begging off because of the flu, or a pop quiz the Monday after Thanksgiving or… what was it last year?”
I blushed at the memory. “Food poisoning from the campus cafeteria,” I groaned as Missy gleefully recounted the excuses I made to avoid my mother’s elaborate Thanksgiving get-togethers every year.
“But this year?” she asked, half-yawning despite her curiosity.
“She’s got a new boyfriend?”
“Who?” Missy asked, momentarily revived.
“Some mystery guy,” I said, as surprised as Missy. “She’s hiding him until she knows it’s gonna work out. You know. A mom thing.” Ever since divorcing my father when I was still in high school, my mother had thrown herself into her real estate practice. She’d gone on dates over the years, mostly blind ones set up by well-meaning friends or clients, but nothing serious—until now.
“Sounds scandalous,” Missy teased ironically, as we both knew my mother to be the ultimate straight laced career gal.
“I doubt it,” I said unnecessarily. “But she made it clear last week that I wouldn’t have to worry about dodging Thanksgiving this year, so…”
As if on cue my cell rang, the Halloween them, the ring tone I’d chosen for my mother’s number and one that never failed to make Missy and I smile.
“Mom?” I asked, getting up from my chair and inching toward my room so I wouldn’t disturb Missy as she took an after-work nap. “We were just talking about you.”
“Is that right?” Mom asked, the sound of rushing traffic telling me she was calling from her car. “All good, I hope.”
“Always,” I said. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much,” she lied. Busy as she was, and even though we lived in the same town, Mom never called me unless there was a reason. “I was just wondering what your plans were for Thanksgiving?”
I stood just inside my bedroom, slack-jawed, holding the phone out at arm’s reach as I silent cursed and shook my head. “Whatever for?” I asked when I’d counted to ten so I wouldn’t explode. “I thought you and your new beau were having a holiday for two?”
“That’s what I’d been planning on,” she said, sounding vaguely irritated. “But the more I hinted around, the less he got the hint, so… I decided not to bug him about it.”
I chuckled, not wanting to admit that I’d felt the same way about Craig. “So, what are you doing?” I sighed. “Having another giant party for all your clients like the last few years?”
“Not this year, babe,” she said. “I’ve just been so busy I haven’t had time to plan anything, and you know I’d never do anything half-baked.”
I snorted. “Not greater Tennessee’s real estate salesperson of the year!”
She laughed good-naturedly. “Anyway,” she said, surprisingly low key and soft sell. “No pressure, but if you wanted to just go
out and get Chinese or something this year, I wouldn’t be opposed to the company.”
“Go out?” I asked, vaguely shocked. “On a holiday?”
“Why not?” she said. “Unless you want to cook a turkey in your apartment for a change?”
“Yeah, well,” I snorted, “we both know that’s not happening. Actually, Chinese food on Thanksgiving sounds perfect.”
“Really?” she asked, sounding surprised. “I… no lame excuses this year?”
“No need for any,” I said, blushing slightly that she’d known all along. “Now that I know you won’t be inviting 300 phony realtors to dinner, I’ll gladly accept.”
“Wow, dear,” Mom said, suddenly overcome by emotion. “That… that’s really great. I’m… I’m really looking forward to it…”
Her voice softened, trailing off at the end and not because of bad reception. I stared at the silent phone, “Mom, are you okay?”
“Oh, sure, sure,” she said, brightening suddenly even as she sniffed loudly. “I’m just happy I’m going to spend Thanksgiving with my daughter for a change, that’s all.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “Because you don’t sound like yourself.”
“No?” she asked, not quite denying it. “I guess since your father, the holidays always make me a little blue.”
I nodded, knowing the feeling and sorry, for once, that I’d dodged Thanksgiving with mom ever since I started at Worthington. “I know the feeling,” I said. “But you’ve got a new man in your life, right? So, that should help a little this year.”
“You’re right, dear,” she said, brightening slightly. “I wasn’t even sure you remembered about him. I mean, it’s not often that you ask me anything about that… part… of my life, that’s all.”
I nodded. she was right. “I know,” I admitted, sitting down on the corner of my bed as another autumn afternoon stretched toward evening. “I guess, since the divorce, I’m used to having you all to myself. Maybe I feel threatened by your new guy a little.”
Time Out: A Holiday Sports Romance Page 7
