I’d never done anything so erotic, and it was about time.
I eased into him, loving how I could watch what he was doing and feel it at the same time. Hot hands encompassed each breast. I was used to not having much of a bust size, and it never bothered me. It still didn’t bother me now. He made me feel like the sexiest woman in the world.
He rolled my pebbled flesh between his thumbs and forefingers, and kneaded and squeezed until I was squirming and breathing hard. I needed more.
And he gave it to me. Sliding his right hand down my belly, he smoothly dipped under the waistband of my underwear and didn’t stop until one long finger slid through my seam, gauging my wetness.
He still didn’t say anything, but an approving groan vibrated out of his chest. I tipped my head back onto his shoulders and gave myself over to him, cracking my eyes open only far enough to watch him play my body like he was a maestro. Coating his finger, he circled my clit, just as slow as he’d been doing everything else. I squirmed and writhed in his embrace, but he was unyielding.
I was pressing into his hand, but close enough to him to feel the massive erection grinding against my ass. I could tease him and get closer to my own building orgasm.
Reaching behind me, I dug my fingers into his short hair. For the most part, we didn’t move. One hand working my breast, the other getting me off.
My breath hitched. My climax was coming. As I stiffened in his arms, he stroked his finger through my folds and thrust inside. I bucked my hips and cried out, but once his thumb hit my clit, I exploded.
He was talking to me, and I was amazed that I could understand him at all.
“You’re so beautiful, coming all over me. I could watch you every day.”
I didn’t think my orgasm could get any more powerful, but knowing Coach Keating talked dirty had that effect. I tensed and shuddered, falling apart in his arms.
When I finally went limp, he stopped stroking me. He still held me and watched me. I gazed back at him.
“That was amazing.” My voice was a whisper because that was all I could muster.
“Yes, you are.”
I was smiling. In the mirror, my cheeks were flushed, my skin glowed, and I looked so peaceful and serene I almost didn’t recognize myself. “I get to do it to you now.”
His gaze sharpened, and I thought he was going to say no. “I want to be inside you.”
Yes, please. But the responsible part of my brain had shut off. My stomach sank down to the tips of my toes. “I’m not on the pill, and I don’t have any condoms.”
A promising smile stretched across his lips. “I have one, and we’ll pick up a jumbo-size box today.”
I didn’t have time to rejoice. He swept me into his arms and carried me out to the bed. I wasn’t used to being cherished and delicate. Strong and athletic, yes. But not this.
He set me down in the middle of the bed and bent over to the side where his pants were neatly folded. I couldn’t hold back my giggle.
At a sharp glance, I pointed to his tidy stack of clothing and then to my shirt on the dresser, pants on the floor, and my luggage across the room.
Understanding lit his expression. “You had me worried,” he said. “I don’t usually hear laughing during sex.”
“Then you’ve been doing it wrong.”
I wasn’t sure how he was going to take that, but he only smiled and said, “You’re right again.”
He jerked his shorts down, and his cock sprang free. I looked my fill. His body was a work of art. His erection was as strong and as defined as the rest of him. Thick veins lined the outside, tapering into a blunt tip. I wanted to taste it, but that would have to wait for another time. Like him, I wanted him inside me. He put the condom on and crawled into the bed, not giving me much of a show, but I didn’t miss one second of it. The bunch and flex of his muscles, and the way the light rippled over his skin—this wasn’t a lights-off kind of moment. For the first time, I felt like I was in charge of my life. I didn’t have to make excuses for how late it was or that I had early training in the morning. We were doing it now.
He situated himself between my legs, and I widened my thighs to make room for him. Anchoring his hands on either side of my head, he rocked his hips, dragging himself through my slit. “I’ll start slow, but when you’re used to me, I don’t want to hold back.”
“I don’t want you to. That’s not you.” As soon as I said it, I knew his style. He fucked like he lived life. There was no messing around, there was no lingering, he was in it to win it. But I also knew his finish line wasn’t just an orgasm, but to rock the world of both people in this bed.
He used one hand to place himself, and we both adjusted our position so we could watch him enter me. Controlled, like Lincoln. He pushed in an inch, and I wanted more. He was big, but I was wet, and I was more than ready for this experience.
More of him disappeared inside, and as much as I wanted to loll my head back and gasp at the pleasure blooming from my center, I couldn’t miss this erotic show. A whine escaped me when he was seated fully inside. “I want you, Lincoln.”
He held himself there for one more heartbeat and then stroked back out. The sensation made me gasp and roll my hips for more. He thrust back in. This time, I moaned. The pace only increased, taking me higher with him, and I gladly followed.
I gripped his shoulders, grinding into him, and he pounded into me. If I thought he was hot before, he was searing now. A sheen of sweat slicked across his body as he grunted and worked himself inside of me.
He was holding back until I got off again. With that knowledge came the freedom to just let myself go. “Lincoln, oh, yes. Yes.”
“Nellie.” The force of his pounding increased, and he gave his hips a roll. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long.”
“Me too.” I clutched him tighter. This was the real Lincoln, the one who said what he felt and came apart but took care of me at the same time.
He kept doing the same until I was crying out his name and digging my fingernails into his shoulders. As I was climaxing, he tensed over me, pushed inside me three more times, and moaned my name. Having him come inside of me was the most powerful feeling in the world. This man that I had watched my entire career came undone in my arms.
I don’t know how long we laid in a heap together afterward, but I finally rolled my head over to murmur into his ear, “We didn’t even kiss. I don’t know why we wasted time brushing our teeth.”
His body shook with his laugh. He was still inside me, and we were laughing.
He captured my laugh with his mouth, and we dissolved into a long, languid kiss. I ran my hands up and down his broad back, sweeping up into his hair, and down his arms.
A girl could get used to this. Too bad that girl couldn’t be me.
Chapter 7
“This is so fun!” Water splashed in my face. The trip down the river was almost done, and I had one word for it. Exhilarating.
I don’t think Lincoln quit smiling the entire time. He was all in, like me. We intently listened to the instructions when we arrived, and then again from our guide. The other rafters had been tittering nervously and joking with each other about how scared they were.
Not us. We adopted the same focus as a big race.
Until shit got real.
I had my helmet on and was as safe as could be, but the hint of danger changed everything. The more our raft surged and jerked, the faster the water ran, the more fun it got. Our entire party had a positive energy that propelled us over the rapids.
We hit calmer waters, and the burn in my arms stayed with me. I did general body conditioning, but my poor arms weren’t what I usually relied on. My smile faded as our guide gave us instructions for the end of the rafting trip.
It was over. But unlike my races, I didn’t know when I’d be here, doing this again.
My career as a pro runner might be over, but my time running wasn’t. If everything went well with my surgery and recovery and the cancer didn’t
come back, I could run competitively on an amateur level. Or for fun. Mom went for a run three times a week. And that sounded nice. Fun, like rafting.
Did I want to run competitively again? I was twenty-six. A week ago, quitting wouldn’t have been an option. I was a runner. It was my identity. I knew runners who’d fought their cancer, competing and winning significant races. It had been an option, but I’d left it entirely. There’d been no deliberating. If I went back, would I let it consume me, or allow myself to have days like this?
Today was a blast. Last night, while we were combing over what we could do, there were so many choices. Biking. Ziplining. Hiking. To sign onto this rafting tour, it was recommended we were strong swimmers.
I could swim, thanks to Dad’s insistence I complete all levels of swimming lessons and one year on the swim team to drive home the muscle memory. But I never swam for recreation. Beyond an ice bath for recovery or a hot tub to soothe sore muscles, I didn’t touch a pool.
As we pulled into our destination, I soaked in the sights of nature around me. No bleachers. No squat buildings where I’d go for meetings or interviews. Definitely no tracks.
I wanted to trail run. I wanted to smell pine and dirt and maybe even the fading whiff of a skunk as I flowed over the ground, as one with nature as a modern working woman could get without living off the grid.
I scrambled off the raft with the others and went through the gear turn in. Chatter surrounded me, and I automatically smiled and enthusiastically nodded that yes, it was great, and absolutely, I’d do it again. And maybe I regretted not booking the full-day tour too.
But what I was really thinking about was how this was the day I retired. Not yesterday when I made my announcement to Coach Simmons and the rest of my team. The person I was yesterday had put her life on hold. The Nellie of today knew her life would be going in a different direction, and she accepted it.
Lincoln watched me out of the corner of his eye. Just like he’d know if one of his athletes was in a different headspace than he expected, he read me. But on the shuttle ride back to our starting point, he didn’t ask, just tossed an arm over the back of my seat. We pointed out sights to each other, like a glimpse of the river we’d just been on and an eagle soaring overhead.
Back at our origin point, we were offered a picture of our ride.
I elbowed Lincoln. “You’ll have to get that one. It’s proof that you smile.” In the photo, we were leaning into our turn. My mouth was open in a laugh, and Lincoln’s face was lit with a grin as he concentrated on his job. Just looking at it made me happy. Like all those endorphins came rushing back.
He scowled at me but handed the guy a twenty. “I can’t argue. It’s not like the track.”
“I know. That’s what I’ve been thinking about.”
His look grew speculative, and he nodded like he knew exactly what I’d been thinking. He probably did. “You want to walk the short trail out back?”
I’d seen it on the way in. A short out and back that a novice wouldn’t get lost in, interspersed with enough trees to keep the scorching sun from baking us. “Sounds divine.”
As we were walking away from the car, my phone rang. Mom. “Hello?” If I didn’t answer and waited to call her back after my hike, she’d worry.
Lincoln glanced back and wandered a few more steps. I hung back to have a little privacy. The shock of my news had worn off, and now she’d want to know where I was, how I was doing, and she’d sniff out that I was with someone.
“I just wanted to check in on you.” That was Mom. Totally unashamed about momming me.
“I just went rafting, and now we’re gonna go for a little hike.” I screwed my face up. I was such a crap liar that I didn’t even make it one sentence pretending that I was alone.
“We?”
I looked up and met Lincoln’s eye. He pointed to the bench in front of the visitor center and headed toward it. I nodded and stayed where I was.
“Funny story. You heard about Saturday?”
“That awful man. He should be fired. He shouldn’t be allowed near the running community for the rest of his life. That’s cheating, plain and simple.”
Yeah, this news was going to go over like a flooded basement. “I… I’m kind of spending the week with him.”
Silence.
“I did say it was a funny story.” It wasn’t really funny. Maybe if I looked back on it in five years after having had a clean bill of health for each of those years, I could chuckle a little.
“Nellie, are you trying to tell me that you ran off with Coach Keating? After what he did?” Her voice rose in pitch until she could’ve cracked glass.
“I told him off at the bar that night, and then got sick over a milkshake. He stuck around and took care of me.”
“You got sick? How are you feeling?”
I winced. I should’ve known those words would have meant something else to Mom. “No, it was from the ice cream, not from the cancer.”
“I still don’t understand. He got you disqualified.”
I gazed at Lincoln. He was reclining with one ankle resting on the knee of his other leg and one arm stretched across the back of the bench. His face was tipped back, and the peaceful look on his face made it seem like this was the first time he’d ever stopped and enjoyed the heat of the sun.
“Yeah, he did. I guess it didn’t mean as much to me as I thought.” If I thought about the whole ordeal again, yeah, I’d be upset. For myself and for him. He was letting his sponsors walk all over him. After this week, he would go back and live his own life and make the decisions he made and live with them. I didn’t have to. It was a freeing thought, but incredibly sad at the same time. “He gets me. I think he feels bad and all that, and will maybe one day admit that it was cheating, but for now, he’s fun to be around. He understands the life and the demands and why I want this week to myself before…”
Mom sighed. “I won’t pretend to understand. But how much do you really know him?”
After this morning, a whole lot more than I used to do. “It’s only for the week, Mom.”
“I should make you be the one to tell your father.”
Ouch. I was too old to hide my private life from my parents, but this was on a different level than ever before. Dad hated cheaters, and he didn’t have the laid-back attitude that Mom had developed after she’d been sick. And right now, it was probably in full protective papa bear mode.
And Mom was willing to take the brunt of it. “I appreciate it, Mom.”
“So, he knows, huh?”
The conversation at the bar drifted through my mind. The look on his face after I told him. My confession was probably the only thing in the world that would make him second-guess what he’d done, and in that second, I watched him realize how badly he crossed a line he probably thought he’d never get close to.
“Yes, he knows. Other than the first night I chewed him out, we don’t talk about the race. I gave myself the time I needed to be angry. I don’t need that negativity.”
“But doesn’t looking at him every day… Never mind. You’re living your life on your terms.” Another long-suffering sigh drifted over the phone. “Don’t think I’m not going to call every day.”
I was expecting it. “We’re heading out for a hike, but I knew you’d worry, so I answered.”
“Don’t stress yourself.”
I thought about the Belgian waffles with fresh whipped cream I’d had for breakfast, and the big steak supper I totally planned after the hike. “I’m used to running miles a day. A little rafting and hiking is nothing, and I plan to gorge on room service and restaurants for the next five days.”
Mom’s chuckle was laced with sadness. “Send pictures.”
“Will do. Talk to you tomorrow.”
I hung up, shoved the phone into my pack, and slung the whole thing over my shoulder. We each had to buy a backpack just for this trip. By we, I meant Lincoln had been paying for everything. The hotel, the tours, and the meals.
He either heard my footsteps or sensed me approaching. He lifted his head, his gaze focused right on me. “How’d it go?”
“She’s calling me every day. And she’s not thrilled about you.”
Regret passed through his features. His gaze was steady for a few seconds, then he looked away. “About the race—”
“It’s done.” I adjusted my pack. “Really. I don’t want to talk about it. It’s a beautiful day, and I only have four more before I have to move back in with my parents. Let’s hike.”
I thought he’d argue, but he rose. “Whenever you want to talk about it, I’m here.”
What would he say? Admitting that it was blatant cheating or standing by his opinion was a lose-lose for me, and I’d already lost.
Chapter 8
The next morning, I woke up in the hotel room with the blinds still drawn, sunlight streaming around them. I hadn’t slept in this late for years. Even in the winter, I got up early to run on the treadmill or workout in the gym.
I inhaled deep and did a full-body stretch that left me groaning. Athletic or not, rafting used different muscles than running.
Frowning, I paused. It was quiet. Was I alone?
I swung my feet over the end of the bed and looked around the room. My clothing was still strewn over the chair and the desk and lying half in and half out of my suitcase. My sandals and my athletic shoes were scattered by the desk chair. So that was normal. On the other side of the room, Lincoln’s items were arranged neat and tidy like they always were. He hadn’t checked out on me. But where did he go?
Last night, we’d gone to eat after our hike. Lincoln had found a steakhouse that had exactly what I wanted. Ribeye with sour cream and chive mashed potatoes and fresh vegetables. He even shared a few bites of my sinful German chocolate cake.
Hiking was on the list for today. Yesterday’s hike was nice, but I was ready to expend more energy than a stroll. I wanted to see all I could of Colorado in the short week, and that meant getting in deep into nature.
Finish Line: A Playing Hard Novella Page 5
