I didn’t deserve to be accepted into his room, his bed, or his arms, and yet here we were. Instead of kicking me out, berating me, or making me beg, he was kissing me. Soft, but urgent. Short, but… soul stirring. Kisses that made me feel guiltier, more exposed, more embarrassed, more confused, but somehow, at the same time… swept it all away.
I spread my legs wider, offering him more room to settle between them as his lips met the side of my neck. A shudder rushed through me – an involuntary reaction to the hot, moist rasp of his tongue against my skin. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, cradling his head in my hands. Fresh tears sprang behind my closed eyelids as he put his mouth down, suckling hard enough to leave a mark, but it felt so good I didn’t care.
But you should care.
After he’d left me in the kitchen – tipsy, thoroughly shamed, and completely dissected - the only thing I could find the strength to do was drag myself into my room. As I stripped out of my clothes, showered, then drug my physically and emotionally exhausted body into bed, I’d cried the worst kind of tears. The ones that drained you, but didn’t leave anything – not serenity, or release – behind.
Again, he was making me feel things that weren’t me. I, Nicole Richardson, didn’t cry, because my father didn’t raise me that way. Maybe tears of happiness because I’d accomplished something, sure, but otherwise? Who had time to cry, be felt sorry for, be vulnerable and weak when I could win instead? My twin wasn’t running around crying, and neither would I.
And yet… there I was, feeling like someone had walked up to my neatly tucked away emotional compartments and taken an axe to them, splitting them in half. I couldn’t hold anything in now. It was all spilling out, bubbling through my fingers, demanding to be addressed.
My eyes popped open, and the pleasure slipped away, leaving just the—
“Relax,” he murmured into my neck, then raised his mouth to nip my earlobe, letting me know it was an imperative, not a request. My eyes adjusted enough to the dark to see the vague outline of Jordan’s body as he shifted upward, balancing himself over me. I could feel him looking me in the face, and had to bite my lip to keep from whimpering when he brought a hand to my cheek. “Or do you not want to do this?”
“I do,” I answered immediately – damn near desperately. For now at least, obscurity of feeling was out of my reach. Transparency was my only option. “I’m having a hard time letting myself trust what’s happening right now.”
His thumb grazed my jaw. “So you don’t trust me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It’s exactly what you said. Trust is putting yourself in somebody else’s care, with confidence that they won’t hurt you. Do you think I’m going to hurt you?”
A lump swelled in my throat. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I did it to you.”
“If I felt a need to hurt you, I wouldn’t be getting ready to be inside you,” he murmured, brushing his lips over my forehead.
“So you’re not mad at me for what happened between us?”
“You seem mad enough at yourself. I’ve got better shit to do with my time right now.”
“Like what?”
“Like this.”
In the time it took him to say those two words, he’d slipped his hand between my legs, pushing the thin fabric of my panties aside. I sucked in a breath as he pressed a firm thumb to the sensitive bud of my clit, then slid one of his deliciously nimble fingers into me. He pushed another one in, plunging deep as he lowered himself to tug my bottom lip between his teeth. He pulled it into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make me whimper as he plunged his fingers into me again.
“You’re so damn wet, Nicki,” he murmured against my lips. His talented fingers stroked one, two, three times, then pressed firm against a spot deep in me that made a sharp cry fall from my lips as I arched away from the bed. Jordan brought his mouth to my ear. The arrogantly sexy resonance of his laughter complimented the pleasure of his hand between my legs. “That spot is exactly where I remembered.”
He remembers where… God, help me.
The feeling that those words sent through me made me squeeze my eyes shut, biting down hard on my lip as his thumb circled my clit. I rocked my hips up toward his hand, wanting more, but he stilled his movements. He nipped my earlobe, sucking it into his mouth before he rumbled in my ear again. “You want me to make you come, don’t you?”
“Please,” I whined, shamelessly grinding against his hand.
He chuckled. “So are you talking, or are you coming?”
“You know which one I want.”
“Nope,” he said. With his weight balanced on his elbow, he buried his hand in my hair, gently tugging to get me to turn my face toward his. “Say it.”
“Jordan, you know—”
“Nah.” He moved his hand from between my legs to cup my chin. “I don’t want to hear that I can’t shit. Any other time, that mouth of yours is on a hundred-trillion, but you can’t tell me what you want me to do you?”
“Could you just—”
“Listen to me, Nicki,” he said in a growl that hit me right between the legs, making me wetter than I already was. The warmth of his breath tickled my skin as he moved in closer. “You are not in control here. If you want me to make you come, you’re gonna say it. You understand?”
I swallowed hard as what seemed like an eternity of silence stretched between us. As thoroughly turned on as I was, his authoritative tone pissed me off. And then turned me back on.
A lot.
I didn’t get bossed around or commanded to do things. I did the bossing and commanding.
“Nicki.” His grip on my chin subtly tightened, and my body constricted with it, aching for him to touch me again. “I asked if you understood.”
“Yes.”
“So tell me what you want.”
A shaky breath rushed out of me. “I want you to make me come.”
The sun had begun to come up, bringing the first faint streaks of light through the window, illuminating Jordan’s face enough to see his smirk. He brought his mouth to mine, brushing me with a gentle kiss.
“Good girl.”
I didn’t have time to react – time to speak, or think, before he had my nightgown over my head, and somewhere across the room. He gave the same treatment to my panties. My bare breasts felt heavy, hot under his gaze, and my nipples were so hard by this point that they were throbbing. A tremor ran through me as he unhurriedly, gently, twisted them between his forefingers and thumbs, then used his big hands to cup my breasts and squeeze. His palms were hot – soothing and scorching as they slid over my breasts. One fluid motion, never not touching me as his fingers curved back to my achingly hard peaks and tugged.
“Ah!”
He didn’t have to ask if I liked it – he knew. He handled me confidently – tugging my nipples again, harder, making me wetter. I buried my fingers in the thick, soft coils of his hair, making a sound that wasn’t a whimper or moan, just noise, as he covered my nipple with his mouth. He stroked it with his tongue, licking and sucking until I was quivering beneath him before he moved to pamper the other side.
It was overwhelming.
I already felt so good, but as soon as he left my breasts, trailing kisses between them before he moved down to my ribs, my belly button, I started trembling, helpless with anticipation.
There was more.
He spread me apart, burying his face between my legs. He inhaled deep, sending a rush of air over my hypersensitive clit that pushed me a little closer to the edge. And then he covered me with his mouth.
Heaven.
That was what it felt like to me, with Jordan sucking, licking, biting, devouring me, until tiny white stars burst behind my eyelids – a fireworks show to commemorate my ecstasy. Relief flooded my body as he brought me to release. I was practically vibrating with the kind of joy only a good orgasm could bring, basking in the dizzy, high feeling.
He kissed his way back up my body, and as soon as
I could, I caught his face between my hands, bringing his lips to mine. “I want to feel you,” I murmured into his mouth as I ran my fingers across the broad expanse of his shoulders, down his chest, down to the waistband of his boxer briefs.
“We’re touching right now, aren’t we?”
I shook my head. “Not like this. I want you inside of me. Now.”
Jordan chuckled, pressing a kiss to my jaw as I tugged his boxers down. I spread my legs wider as his dick sprang free. “There we go,” he grumbled as I wrapped my fingers around the smooth hardness of his length. “What else you want, baby?”
I squeezed him, and he groaned in reaction, sending a burst of giddy pleasure through me. Bringing my free hand to the back as his neck, I pulled him closer, feeling bolder, sexier, freer than I’d felt in a long time.
“I want to feel you come inside me.”
For a moment, I don’t think Jordan breathed.
The moment after that, he slammed into me, so deep that I would have sworn we were stuck together if he hadn’t pulled back and plunged again. Immense pleasure ripped through me, chased by a thread of pain that somehow made it better.
“Still so goddamned tight,” he groaned in my ear, more to himself than to me, but my lips curved into a smile anyway.
That smile quickly gave way to open-mouthed gasps of pleasure as he drove into me, over, over, and over, making pleasure coil tight in my belly. I hooked my legs around his thighs as he grabbed my wrists, pinning them over my head. He kept stroking me – deeper, harder, working up a sweat.
His mouth crashed onto mine, consuming me with a kiss that felt like more than a kiss. Declarative strokes of his tongue, possessive nibbles at my lips and the corners of my mouth, and soothing, reassuring licks after.
“Nicki,” he pleaded, with an intensity of need I don’t think either of us knew existed.
I pulled my hands away from his hold, wrapping my arms over his shoulders to get closer. “I’m here,” I whispered, putting my mouth against his ear.
I dug my nails into his shoulders as he hooked his arms under my knees to stroke me harder. I drew in a deep breath through my nose, inhaling Jordan’s gratifyingly familiar aroma.
It was comforting to me. A sweet sort of nostalgia filled my head as Jordan freed one of my legs to wrap an arm around me instead, pulling me close. He was so deep that it almost felt as if we couldn’t stop, like if he left my body, some vital part of me would be taken away.
I remembered that.
Remembered loving him so much that sex was almost divine—our required daily adulations to each other. Echoes of those feelings swamped through me, attaching themselves to recent memories, showing me their sneaky manifestations.
My desire to see Jordan succeed wasn’t as selfish as I’d given myself credit for, my anger over his partying and drinking, not as professional as I thought. That nagging feeling I had toward Cin – jealousy and insecurity. The low level rage I felt when someone else said anything negative about him… protectiveness.
Because there was a point I’d loved Jordan so much that it terrified me. And even though I’d put them aside and tried to lock them up there wasn’t a switch I could flip to make those feelings go away.
The affection, or the fear.
“Come back to me, Nicki.”
The sound of Jordan’s voice in my ear brought me back to the moment with an overwhelming rush of pleasure, and I opened my eyes. Enough light had come in that I could see him now. His beautiful skin, the chiseled contours of his jaw. He grinned at me – showing me the dimples that made me so weak – then moved his hands to my ankles, pressing them towards the head of the bed as he slammed into me.
I came so hard it left my ears ringing.
Jordan was still moving, still stroking me so hard that I couldn’t even catch my breath. I went light-headed, tipsy off the waves of orgasm as they crashed into me, lapped over me, drowned me and brought me back.
My fingernails dug into his skin as he lost control. He released my ankles, and buried one hand in my hair, used the other to grip my ass. He buried his face against my neck, practically growling as he came, with his dick still buried deep in me.
He collapsed against me, chest to chest. The heaviness of his weight was comforting. Neither of us moved. Neither of us said anything. I forced myself not to think of the implications or complications of what had passed between me and Jordan tonight. I didn’t try to analyze it, or figure it out. I was exhausted, and I was… happy.
For the moment, I was content to let that be.
Twelve.
Too good to be true.
Had to be, right?
To have Nicki on top of me again, moaning and panting for breath as she rode me, felt like something out of my fantasies.
Despite the sensation of her clenching around me, hot and slick, nothing between us. Despite her hand covering one of mine as it kneaded and caressed her breast. Despite the visual of her throwing her head back in pleasure as my fingers played in her beautiful wetness. Despite the blissful glow of her deep brown skin, completely nude for my eyes….
It felt unreal.
It wasn’t that this side of her was unfamiliar to me – it’s that it was so familiar. I was very, very well acquainted. Similar scenes were embedded in my memories. I taught her how to do this, how to make it as good for herself as it was for me. Positive words, patience, laughter, and more orgasms than college kids probably had any business having. Those were my tools to bring out the confidence, sensuality, and skill she’d apparently never lost.
I just never thought I would reap the benefits again.
Her rhythm shifted. Eyes closed, legs began to tremble as she lost control. I brought my hands to her hips, keeping her still as I stroked up. She clenched her eyes shut tighter as she collapsed forward, hands on the bed, moaning and whimpering her way through an orgasm.
I kept her close until we were both finished. At some point, she’d buried her face in my neck, and I could feel the soft inhale-exhale of her breath as we laid there in silence. I ran a hand up her back until I reached her hair, dragging my fingers through the sweat-dampened strands.
“I can feel you thinking about this shit too hard,” I murmured, then angled to press my lips to her forehead.
I immediately wished I hadn’t said anything when she pulled herself up, tugging the sheet around her body to cover up. “It’s not as if this is something we can just ignore.”
“Did I suggest that?”
Her eyes came to mine, then just as quickly moved away as she shrugged. “You’re saying I’m thinking about it too hard.”
“Right,” I said, sitting up as she scooted to the other side of the bed. “Thinking about it, stressing yourself out, coming up with bullshit fatalistic scenarios isn’t going to help either of us. Maybe we should talk about it.”
She shook her head, and wrapped the sheet tighter as she grabbed her phone and started pecking away at the buttons. “Not happening right now. We don’t have time.”
“We don’t have time?” I sucked my teeth. “That’s the excuse you’re going with?”
“You kicked somebody’s ass on live TV and got arrested last night, remember?” She held up the phone. “We have a plane to get on in less than an hour, and a press conference as soon as we get off. Chloe and Margo will be waiting.”
I blew out a sigh. That shit with Bobby Samuels had been the furthest thing from my mind since I walked into this hotel room. “So I can leave the state?”
She nodded, then turned back to her phone. “Yep. Charges were dropped. Mostly because they were bullshit to begin with – players don’t get arrested for fighting after games. The police officers were pissed that we won, pissed that you went after their star player, so they pulled their weight. So…” she sniffed, “Eli pulled his. Called the commissioner. I don’t know all the details after that, but long story short…. Yes. You can go home.”
“Good. But what else? What’s happening? Do I have a fine, am I
getting suspended, or…?”
“Don’t know yet. Eli hasn’t gotten back in touch with me, but I’m sure we’ll know before the press conference. Whatever happens though, you’ll be okay. Punching a guy for saying something gross about his baby sister is far from the worst thing a football player has ever done.”
For about two seconds, I was happy that she was finally showing some warmth, after she’d flipped her emotional switch post-sex. But then I remembered – this was her job. Reassurance was a requirement in “player success.”
“Your investment in whatever happens with this today… professional or personal?”
Maybe that was a masochistic question to ask – especially with the way her eyes widened about it – but I wanted to know.
She averted her gaze, looking down at the screen of her phone as she spoke. “Professional.”
I let out a dry chuckle and pushed back the covers she’d left me with, not really caring about nudity as I moved to stand up. “How did I already know the answer to that?”
“It’s not that I don’t care,” she explained, sitting up on her knees to meet my eyes. “But this is hard,” she whispered, her voice cracking over the last word.
With the full light of morning shining into the room, I was reminded how little she’d changed from when we first met. Obviously we’d gotten older – she’d grown up. Was a grown ass woman now. But seeing her like this – no makeup, hair a mess, nothing on, reminded me of the girl I knew in college.
I’d had to drag emotion out of her too.
“Come here.”
I moved to the edge of the bed, waiting for her. She only hesitated for a few seconds before she did as I asked. When she reached me, I cupped her face in my hands.
“We will talk about this… Cole.” – if I was asking her to make herself uncomfortable for me, the least I could do was call her what she wanted to be called. “Not up for negotiation.”
“Okay.”
“I’m serious,” I said, meeting her eyes. They were the first thing I’d ever noticed about her – big, warm, expressive brown eyes, that seemed so innocent at the time. Magnets.
Love on the Highlight Reel (Connecticut Kings Book 2) Page 13
