Sweeper

by Amy Daws

  Zander smiles and takes a step toward me, his hand propping on my door as he leans in with a sultry look on his face. “I like a pigsty.”

  “No one likes a pigsty,” I deadpan, totally immune to his charms for once and annoyed that Phoebe didn’t give me any time tonight to clean up before she dragged me over to the pub. My saving grace was that we would hook up in Zander’s far superior flat, but of course, his pushy-arse isn’t easily persuaded.

  Zander pulls back and crosses his arms over his chest. “Just let me come inside.”

  My brows lift at that double entendre, and I cringe when I’m pretty sure he just read my dirty mind. With a growl of acceptance, I unlock my door and let him into the chaos. What do I have to impress him for? It’s not like this is a relationship.

  “Just don’t look too closely,” I call over my shoulder as I flick on my twinkle lights that wrap around my living area and cast the flat in dim lighting. I shuffle into my dark kitchen to quickly toss all the baking dishes into my sink and corral all the items I left out earlier. Housekeeping has never been my forte. And my nieces are wild little beasts when they come over. I don’t even think they like baking all that much, but I do it with them so they stay out of my living room and away from my music equipment.

  I find the small dish with the item I have for Zander and turn to see he’s watching me from the entry of my kitchen with an amused look on his face. “Don’t make fun of me, or you won’t get this present.”

  His face goes serious. “It’s a present?”

  I grip the plastic dish nervously in my hands. “I can’t promise it’s as good as your mum’s because I’ve never made oatmeal raisin in my life, and the girls said the raisins look like sheep poo, but I assure you, they’re not.”

  I thrust the container that houses one oatmeal raisin cookie toward him. The cookie is resting on top of a neon green piece of tissue paper and the girls decorated a small card that says, “Great Game, Soccer Boy” but they ended up scribbling over the top of my text, so I’m not sure he can even read it anymore.

  Zander holds the container up to his eye level as he stares at the cookie with an unreadable expression on his face.

  “The mess should tell you it’s homemade, so hopefully, you can ‘taste the love and shit.’” I laugh nervously because I don’t know what he’s thinking. Surely, he understands the love and shit comment was a joke. I was just repeating what he’d said earlier about his mum’s cookies. I don’t even talk like that. It’s a very American-sounding phrase, but the longer he goes without talking, the more I fear he thinks I’m a level-ten stalker and trying to make him my boyfriend!

  Finally, his eyes flicker from the cookie. “You made me a cookie?”

  “Yes, but the love and shit thing was a joke,” I stammer nervously. “In fact, that cookie was made with a fair amount of frustration and probably plenty of germs. I made Marisa and Rocky wash their hands, but you know little kids. They’re really disgusting, and their hands always seem permanently covered in jam. You know what…on second thought…maybe take a pass on the cookie. We don’t need Bethnal Green’s new star defender feeling poorly from a dodgy cookie.”

  I reach for the container, but Zander pulls it out of my reach, causing me to stumble into him. He wraps his free arm around me as a giant smile spreads across his face. “You made me a cookie.”

  His awestruck expression causes butterflies to erupt in my belly. I bite my lip, feeling strangely giddy at how pleased I’ve made him. Inhaling a cleansing breath, I narrow my eyes. “I also asked to have casual sex with you, and it doesn’t seem like that was a good idea either.”

  His shoulders shake with silent laughter as he releases me to pull the cookie out of the container. He takes a massive bite, making a big show of moaning around every single morsel. I hate that I love watching this.

  He mumbles around a mouthful, “A true triumph.”

  “Don’t be an arse.” I roll my eyes and swat at him.

  He licks his lips and swallows, his face growing thoughtful for a moment. “No girl has ever made me cookies before.”

  I quirk a brow. “Your mother is most likely a girl.”

  “You know what I mean.” His eyes sweep over my face, and a warmness creeps up inside me at the look in his eye.

  “You’re welcome.” A sheepish smile spreads across my face. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  He shoots me a cocky smirk. “Too late.”

  Zander

  Daphney pours me a glass of water, and the entire time I watch her moving around her messy kitchen, making excuses for the clutter, I can’t help but think this situation is fucking perfect. We’re neighbors, she doesn’t like me, and she still wants to have sex with me.

  I just scored the best goal of my life. That brings our score up to Zander: two, Daphney: one.

  Knowing I need to make a move before she comes up with some ridiculous reason to call this whole thing off, I toss my hat on the counter along with the cookie container. I position myself behind Daphney at the sink and snake my hands around her hips. She inhales a sharp breath as I turn her around, so her ass is pressed up against the counter and our bodies are flush.

  “Do I get my second present now?” My gaze dances from her full lips to her sparkling eyes, unsure which I want to stare at more.

  Her voice is raspy when she replies, “What present are you referring to exactly?”

  I fight back a smile as I circle my thumbs over her hip bones and watch a flush crawl across her cheeks. “Oh, what did you call it again? Casual relations?”

  She covers her face with her hands. “That sounds just as bad as the first time I said it.”

  My body shakes with amusement. God, she’s cute. And sexy. And when she was all flustered and jealous, asking me if I was going to sleep with those girls at the bar, I about pushed her into the bathroom and took her right then and there. And the fact that she admitted she was only talking to Banner to get my attention is even cuter. She really is a good girl.

  “Maybe we should have some rules?” she croaks as I move my hands up to her shoulders and pull her faux fur coat off.

  I toss it to the side and my eyes drift down to see that she’s wearing a long-sleeve sheer black top that shows a black bra underneath. That with the skirt and tights has my cock already thickening in my jeans.

  “I get enough rules on the pitch, Ducky,” I reply, removing my own coat and discarding it on the floor with hers. “Let’s fuck the rules.”

  Her eyes flare with excitement, so I reach back and pull my shirt off over my head. The little noise she makes in her throat makes for an uncomfortable situation in my jeans.

  “My God.” She sighs, her eyes roving over my chest and abdomen. “You really are quite confident, aren’t you?”

  When it comes to Daphney, I don’t know what I am, but right now…this second…I want her, and by the look in her eyes, she wants me too. That’s all that matters.

  “Your turn.” I glance down at her body and step back to give her space.

  She smiles shyly, and with a slight eye roll, she peels the thin fabric off her body as she stands before me in a black bra. Her skin is pale against the fabric, and I can see the outline of her nipples through the lace.

  My heart speeds up as I hold myself back. “Need help with that last bit?” I ask, pointing at her chest and dying to touch her. “I’m kind of an expert.”

  “An expert at being a cheeky arse.” Reaching behind her, she unclasps her bra in Mach speed and flings it off to the side. She props her hands on her narrow hips. “Happy?”

  My smile falls as I stare down at her breasts. They are fucking perfect. Even better than my dreams. Petite, teardrop shapes with tiny, pale pink nipples that I…oh fuck it, what am I waiting for?

  I reach out and gently stroke her breasts, my hands testing the weight of them in my grip as my thumb glides over the hardened buds. She’s a petite girl, but these breasts are still an admirable handful. And I have big hands.
>
  My mouth practically waters as I dip my head and wrap my lips around her right nipple, sucking the hard flesh deep into my mouth. Her perfume invades my senses as I flick my tongue over her, and she cries out as she forks her fingers into my hair, scoring her nails over my scalp. The sensation causes my entire body to tremble.

  Annoyed at the uncomfortable angle, I grab Daphney around the waist and hoist her up to the counter. A cloud of flour puffs out around us as I move my lips to her other breast. How is it possible that this one tastes even better than the other? Fuck, I’m not going to last long.

  “Zander.” Daphney sighs, and her legs circle around my hips as she pulls me closer.

  She grabs my jaw and pulls my mouth to hers. Our lips connect, and she swirls her tongue deep into my mouth, taking me the way she did in the hallway. I can taste the desire on her lips, and it makes me desperate to taste more of her.

  “I want to touch you,” I murmur against her lips as I slide my hands up her legs, frustrated by her tights. “We need to get these off.”

  Nodding, she braces herself on my shoulders as she slips off the counter and kicks out of her boots. I do the same and then laugh when she turns her back to me because her ass is covered in flour.

  “What are you laughing at?” she hisses, turning around with a frown.

  My abs contract with poorly concealed amusement as I walk over and swat at her bottom. She looks confused at first but then the cloud of flour wafts all around us.

  “You said you liked a pigsty, Soccer Boy,” she giggles as she unzips her skirt that now has my handprint outline on it. She shimmies it down her hips and says, “Let me grab my robe, and we can sneak over to your place.”

  “No way.” I shake my head adamantly and step back, taking in her half-naked body donning nothing but black tights as she stands in her kitchen. “This is how I want to picture you in all of my fantasies from now on.”

  She levels me with a lethal glare. “I’ve had about enough of your cocky mouth.”

  I close the distance between us and tilt her chin up to mine. “I’m only getting started with yours.”

  I crush my lips to hers and take a moment to explore her mouth, neck, and shoulders as we stumble toward her unmade bed, kicking out of my jeans on the way there. We pause at the sofa on the foot of her bed as I slip my hands down the back of her tights, palming her fleshy bare ass. It’s soft and supple. And I realize that no panties under tights may just be my new favorite thing.

  Daphney gasps when my erection grazes her center. My black boxer briefs are the only barrier as she reaches between us and slides her delicate fingers over my shaft. The gentle stroking overwhelms me, and I stop kissing her to rest my forehead on her shoulder for support. I can feel the precum seeping out of me already. Fucking hell, this woman is going to kill me.

  “Do you have a condom?” Daphney asks, her voice deep and husky and causing all the blood in my body to drain to my cock.

  Painstakingly, I turn around and grab a condom out of the pocket of my jeans. I had high hopes for tonight, and the fact that Daphney has already exceeded all of them before I’ve even entered her is a pretty alarming thought.

  Daphney’s eyes are trained on me as I slide my boxers off and roll the condom over my bulging erection. It’s been a while since I’ve been laid, and I’m painfully aware of the fact. Therefore, I know I will need to distract myself if I want any chance of this lasting.

  Daphney doesn’t make it fucking easy.

  She bites her lip and ditches her tights before positioning herself on the bed. Her blonde hair cascades over her white pillow as she spreads herself open to me. Her smooth mound glistens in the dim overhead lighting. She looks like a goddamn angel, and I’m the devil dragging her over to the dark side.

  The bed dips as I move toward her, and a fleeting look of anxiety crosses her features. “Do you want me to stop?” I ask, my cock weeping inside the rubber.

  She shakes her head as her cool, soft hands reach out to pull me closer causing her breasts to brush across my chest. “Don’t stop.”

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I reach down and drag my fingers along her hot center. “Daphney, you’re fucking soaked,” I croak, my voice sounding like a completely different person.

  She squirms against my gentle caress, and with her eyes closed, she reaches down and grabs my hand, thrusting my fingers inside her.

  “Holy fuck,” I groan as she rides my hand for a moment, her lips parted, her noises unbearably sexy.

  She’s more than a fucking fantasy. She’s a goddamn wet dream come true. She’s immortal. She’s legendary. She’s all the things. Soft and supple. Sweet and innocent. Brave and spicy. And best of all, needy, wanting, and not afraid to show it.

  The best fucking combination.

  I thrust my fingers into her slowly, enraptured by the way she moves. I want to take this slow so I can savor it. I also want to race to the finish line because I’m so fucking turned on.

  My dick hardens painfully as she arches her chest toward me, begging my lips to give her breasts more attention. Leaning down, I lick my way around her nipple, enjoying the surprise in her moan as I latch on and suck hard while my fingers speed up. Her slick heat drenches my digits as my cock strains between us.

  I focus on my breathing, determined to make her come when she pushes my head away from her breast with a wild look in her eyes. “Now,” she says, her head nodding as she hooks her heels around my ass and pulls me close. “I need you now, Zander.”

  I’m at a rare loss for words as she moves my fingers out of her center and positions my cock at her apex. When I begin to push inside her, her head flattens against the pillow, and she bites down hard on her lip. I push in to the hilt and freeze. Fuck, she feels amazing. Tight and warm, like the perfect hug for my cock. I pull back and thrust again, this time going even deeper as her wetness coats me. Her back arches off the bed, and her tits thrust up toward my face. My control snaps as I devour her nipples and neck and begin pumping wildly inside her as I do it. I want to taste every inch of Daphney’s body.

  She cries out, but I do my best to block out her noises so I don’t come too soon. Can’t come too soon. Need her to come first or I’ll never fucking forgive myself.

  I begin outlining the Bethnal Green playbook in my head to tear my focus away from her. I’ve been studying them every night since I arrived, but a refresher never hurts.

  Goddamn, tonight’s game was epic. My connection on the field with Booker—and Finney’s eyes when he realized I was here to stay—was everything I wanted my first week I arrived. Now I get to top all of that off with a great lay from my neighbor who made me a fucking cookie.

  Which was awful, by the way.

  Tasted like playdough.

  But it was oatmeal raisin, and I gutted it down like a champ because the fact that I didn’t have to break my ritual of a cookie reward after every win means more to me than I’ll ever tell her.

  I’m jolted back into the moment when Daphney’s nails stab into my back, and the sensation of her sex clamping down around me is the most intense female orgasm my cock has ever felt. She groans my name, and the hoarse tone of it sounds way too fucking good for me to last a second longer.

  With a guttural moan, I press my face into her neck as I empty myself inside her with shocking savagery, my cock pulsing inside the tight condom as every nerve in my body gyrates over top of her.

  Once my brain revives itself, I roll off Daphney, sweaty, out of breath, and in desperate need of some sleep. I sit up and make my way into her bathroom to dispose of the condom and clean myself up. That was fucking intense. More than I expected of my cute, nagging neighbor, who I’m pretty sure still hates my guts even after sex.

  When I return a few moments later, Daphney’s sitting up in bed, fully dressed in her silk pajamas that she wasn’t wearing a second ago. She has a notebook and pen clutched tightly in her hands, and she looks like she’s making a damn grocery list.

  My brow
s furrow as I stand naked in her apartment. “You good?”

  She hits me with a bright, toothy smile. “I’m excellent. You?”

  “Um…I’m good,” I reply, feeling a bit bewildered. “Should I…?”

  “Go back to yours? Yes, that would be perfect,” Daphney says brightly, her eyes not even glancing at my cock that’s still semi-hard and not totally ready for bed. “Do you want another cookie for the road?”

  My head snaps back. “Um…no. Just one is good.”

  “Cool. I’ll see you later then, yeah?” She brings the pen to her mouth and stares intently at her notebook like she’s trying to solve some sort of puzzle.

  “Um, okay.” I run a hand through my hair that feels like it’s grown two feet from her fingers running through it all night. As I stumble around and get dressed, I wonder if I’m getting blown off? Was it not good for her? It was good for me. Mind-blowingly good for me, even if I did have to think about corner kick formations that have zero fucking sex appeal. But I did that for her benefit. So I could make sure she got off. And she one hundred percent got off. Her pussy was like a vise-grip on my cock. It was so tight, I wondered if I might have been trapped there forever.

  I could think of worse places for my cock to be stuck in.

  But seriously…the parts I was fully present for were wicked hot. I should at the very least get a good game pat on the butt or something, right? I’m her Soccer Boy, for fuck’s sake.

  When I retrieve my coat from the kitchen floor, I glance over, considering a quick kiss goodbye, but her body language indicates she just wants me out of her space.

  Trying to sound casual as the sex we just had, I offer, “Good night?”

  “Night!” She waves at me like she waves at the deliveryman.

  I walk out into the hallway and slump against her door when a horrifying thought crosses my mind: Am I bad at sex?

  Daphney

  “Phoebe, I could strangle you!” I exclaim, marching into Phoebe’s bedroom at eight o’clock the next morning.