by JB Salsbury
I would’ve liked to tell him that my only interest in tonight’s game has everything to do with the man who has managed to make me feel something good in as long as I can remember. But sacrificing Theodore for my own demented pleasure doesn’t carry the satisfaction that it used to.
After the team left the field to go back to the locker room, my dad offered to let me wait in his office until all the players were showered and dressed. I rolled my eyes and reminded him that I’ve seen plenty of naked men before. His face turned a little green and bought me some satisfaction.
Displayed around his desk are trophies and certificates of excellence for coaching. One in a gold frame on the wall is dated just two years after he left me at boarding school—a reward for my abandonment.
The sound of water rushing through the pipes in the walls mixes with the excited voices of men hyped up on a win. The door opens behind me, the team’s chattering and laughter made louder for a few seconds before my dad closes the door behind him.
“Hey, they’re almost done out there.” He circles his desk and grabs the truck keys. “Me and some of the coaches are going to The Fieldhouse to celebrate.” Hopeful eyes meet mine. “You’re welcome to come with.”
“No.” I turn back to the gold-framed certificate on the wall. “I’ll get an Uber home.”
He sighs. “You haven’t said much tonight.”
I shrug.
“Em, it means a lot to me that you wanted to come. Now that we have some privacy to talk…”
I roll my eyes, but he can’t see me.
“It’s pretty obvious you’ve got a hickey on your neck there.”
I peer at him over my shoulder. “I wasn’t trying to hide it.” I move to the next framed accomplishment on the wall.
“You dating someone?” He coughs and clears his through. “Someone you met in class or…”
I run my finger along the glass for an award claiming an undefeated season, leaving a line in the dust.
“You’re not seeing Theodore Web, I hope.”
I turn, place my hands on the bookshelf behind me and lean my ass against it in an attempt to appear casual. “Who?”
He cringes slightly.
Yes, daddy dearest, women can have casual, meaningless sex with nameless faces too.
“You told me to stay away from your players.” If he knew me at all, he’d know that kind of demand would only guarantee I do the opposite.
He exhales hard. “If you get involved with one of my players it puts them in a very difficult position, and in turn could hurt the team. I need to know you understand that.”
“Team first. I get it.” He made his loyalties painfully clear ten years ago.
He clears his throat and avoids my eyes by sorting through random papers on his desk. “So who’s the lucky guy and when do I get to meet him?”
There’s a knock on the door.
My dad’s jaw hardens and he barks, “What!”
One of his player’s peeks in, his gaze widening on me. I give him my most seductive smile. “S-sorry to interrupt but Doc Shaun wanted to talk to you about Rizzo’s knee.”
“I’m coming.” My dad walks to the door, but stops and hands me the truck keys. “Take the truck home. I’ll catch a ride with Coach Norburg.” He stops before walking out of his office. “If you plan to stay out all night like you did last night, let me know so I don’t worry.”
A burst of laughter leaves me lips. “Let’s not pretend like you’ve suddenly grown a heart.”
He runs a hand through his newly graying hair while staring at his feet. The man has perfected the wounded act. “At least let me know when I’ll be getting my truck back.”
I push off the bookshelf and he steps aside to let me out of the office. “Sure thing, Coach.”
I weave through the benches and rows of lockers, around the last few lingering players, none of them Theodore. He left, probably to celebrate his win. We haven’t exchanged phone numbers yet, which is odd considering how much we enjoy fucking each other. I suppose we haven’t because part of the thrill of what we have is the hunt.
Maybe I’ll drive by his house on the way home. I’m sure the celebratory party will be there. I won’t go in, or let him know I’m close, but I’ll watch and learn and every time a new person shows up at his door he’ll wonder if that person will be me.
I push out of the stadium’s double doors to the parking lot and toward the truck which is one of only a dozen or so still left in the lot. My feet stutter and stall when I see a tall figure leaning against the truck’s hood like some kind of dark angel.
Theodore is wearing a black t-shirt and jeans and his wet hair frames his model-like face as he boldly stares back.
“You’re taking a huge risk standing out here like this,” I say while closing the space between us. I stop a conservative distance away despite my desire to press my body to his.
His brows pinch together, his gaze moving around my face as if he’s trying to memorize my features.
“Great game.”
He continues to study me.
“I wasn’t sure you could actually play, but turns out you’re pretty good.”
His gaze sharpens. What is his deal?
“Cat got your tongue?”
“No, Kitten.” He pushes off the truck and gets close enough to cup my jaw. He runs his warm, callused thumb down my lips. “But I’m about to get yours.”
He presses his lips against mine, licks my lower lip and dips his tongue between my teeth. My knees grow wobbly and I grip the front of his shirt to keep upright as he sucks my tongue into his mouth. The scent of his masculine body wash makes me want to lick his neck and see if he tastes as good as he smells. His thumb rubs softly against my cheek in a tender way I would’ve never thought he was capable of. Touch that isn’t an attempt to leave a mark, but rather one that delivers comfort and stokes a hunger beyond carnal pleasure.
From across the lot a car door slams and I rip my lips from his. He keeps his hand on my face and his minty breath mingles with mine. “We should go before someone sees us.”
He drops his hand and I reach up, touching the space on my cheek where his thumb drew gentle patterns, wondering somehow if he left a part of himself behind. “My place or yours?”
“Neither.” I circle around to the driver’s side, hit the key fob to unlock the doors and we climb in. “You’re probably hungry.”
“Starving.” He looks at me and licks his lower lip, clearly not talking about food.
“Later.” I fire up the engine. “First, we have a win to celebrate.”
Chapter Sixteen
Spider
“The Exorcist.” I try really fucking hard not to smile but it’s impossible. “Why am I not surprised?”
Emery throws the truck into park and rolls down the window to grab the drive-in speaker. “Probably because…” she bites her bottom lip while maneuvering the speaker into the window then rolls it back up to lock it in place. “You know me.”
I lift a brow. “Do I?”
Her expression is as blank and cold as always. “Yes. Better than…mostly everyone.”
I’m not sure how to respond to that, so instead I change the subject. “I’ve never been to a drive-in. I didn’t think they still existed.”
“This is the only one in Southern California.” She unbuckles her seat belt and pulls off her BSU hat.
“You want anything from the snack bar?”
“Nachos, popcorn, something sweet and a Sprite, please.”
A girl who isn’t afraid to eat. Emery Brawley just keeps getting better and better.
Ten minutes later I make it back to the truck with the kid who works at the snack bar in tow. I needed an extra hand to carry all Emery’s picks plus four hot dogs, bottles of water, and a soft pretzel.
“Did you leave anything behind,” she says as I lay out our movie buffet on the dashboard.
“Yeah, licorice and Junior Mints.”
Her responding smile catches
me in the chest. I thought Emery had a beautiful smile when we first met, back when she put on fake charm to seduce me, but I was wrong. Those smiles were forced, stunted. I didn’t realize it then, but now, gazing upon her genuine smile, the one she gives when she’s forgotten she’s an angry little snake, it sucks the air from my lungs.
“What?” She eyes me cautiously. Her grin falls and breaks my trance. “What are you looking at me like that for?”
“I’ve never seen you smile like that.”
She frowns and turns forward to face the screen.
“Kitten, you don’t need to hide that shit from me. I’ve become intimately familiar with every inch of you, your smile should be no different.”
Her shoulders lose a little tension. “I don’t let my guard down around people.” She plucks popcorn into her mouth and chews. “It’s frustrating that when I’m around you, I can’t seem to keep it up.”
I pull her knuckles to my lips and bite down softly on the bone. “Good.”
We settle in and watch young Regan levitate, speak in tongues and vomit. Most girls would jump and squeal and dive into her man’s arms for protection. Not Emery. She’s been eating and laughing since the movie started. And hearing her laughter, seeing her genuinely entertained, is arguably better than having her dive into my arms. I’ve been watching her more than I’ve watched the movie.
Creepy music fills the air and the priest’s face fills the screen after one of his failed exorcism attempts. “Why’d you come to my game?”
She does a double take, and looks at me like I’m stupid. “To watch you play. Why else would I—whoa!”
I’ve hooked her around the hips and dragged her to my lap so that her face is inches from mine. “No one has ever come to one of my games before.” I nuzzle her neck and lick at the mark I left on her skin, a surge of male possession pumping my blood.
“Never?” she says breathlessly as I run my lips along her throat. “Not even your mom or a friend or—”
“No.” I cup her breast and thumb her nipple.
“The women.” She pants softly. “There must be women who come to—”
“Women want me for what I can do in the bedroom. My ability on the field is never of interest to them.”
“They’re missing out.” She pulls my face to hers. “Watching you play is a turn on.”
“Guess I’ll see you at the next game then,” I say, mostly joking, but hopeful.
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
I move to kiss her, but she slips from my lap and down my chest, wedging herself between my thighs. Her small, pale hands contrast with my jeans as she runs them up my legs to my fly.
“Enough talk. We still need to celebrate.” She opens my jeans and my hard-on reaches for her.
I push a hand through her hair and bring her mouth closer. “Just thinking about your mouth on me is going to make me explode.”
She smirks and licks me from base to tip in a mind spinning tease. “Don’t watch me, watch the movie.” Another swipe of her tongue. “You’ll miss the best part.”
I ignore her request in anticipation of watching her take me completely into her mouth.
She sits back as much as she can in the cramped space between my feet. “I’m not going to touch you until your eyes are on the screen, Theodore.”
My jaw clamps down in response to her game. I don’t like anyone telling me what to do, following orders feels like a weakness.
Seeming to sense my struggle, she runs her hand up and down my thigh. “You can trust me.”
I want to laugh and tell her this has nothing to do with trust, but that I get off on watching her mouth on me. But she knows me too well to sell that lie.
Emery and I aren’t all that different. We both wear armor to keep people away, to maintain control. To cover our vulnerability. To keep from getting hurt. She was wrong the night she told me we were alike in that there was nothing in either of our eyes. Looking at her now, I can see beyond her defenses and what I see is something along the lines of camaraderie. Intimacy. Friendship.
I lift my gaze to the screen, showing her the same trust she showed me the night she let me lay her back in the pool. The screen flickers with images from the movie, but my vision is a blur as her hot mouth covers and swallows me. My eyelids grow heavy. I fist my hands at my sides to keep from fisting her hair and taking over the pace. I bite my lip to keep from panting. Choke back the urge to moan as her tongue unleashes an erotic assault. My ass comes off the seat involuntarily and her low hum of approval delivers a mind-spinning vibration. As much as I want to watch, to take in the visual stimulation along with the physical, I know if I do the pleasure will crest and be over too quickly. I don’t close my eyes for fear that I’ll imagine what she looks like on her knees with her lips spread wide—
A knock on my window jolts me from my thoughts. I turn slowly toward the sound. A woman who looks to be in her early thirties gives me an apologetic smile when she says, “Hey, sorry to bother you but is your speaker working?”
My window is rolled up but I make out her words clearly enough. I feel Emery smile then take me deeper.
A hiss escapes my throat at her intensified vigor.
“Ours keeps cutting out,” she says without taking her eyes from me as she awaits my answer.
“Ours works—” My voice is cut off on a groan as Emery does wicked things with her tongue.
“What?” She steps closer to the window. “Yours is fine?”
“Yes!” I pant and try unsuccessfully to hold back my breeching orgasm. “Fuck.” My hips lift off the seat and a series of shattered grunts explode from my mouth as I release in hers.
Every muscle in my body vibrates and I stare ahead through lust fogged eyes and a blown mind at how quickly Emery brought me to heel.
“Huh…okay, thanks,” the lady at my window says.
Emery pops up from between my legs, licks her lips, then turns to the woman and says loudly, “You’re welcome.” She gives her most practiced innocent smile.
The woman covers her mouth with her hand, clearly horrified. I smirk back and run a hand down Emery’s ponytail to tug and angle her face up. With her watching, I kiss Emery hard and thoroughly.
“As fun as it is to do this with an audience.” I turn to the woman who stumbles to get back into her car. “I’m going to need a little more room for the things I want to do to you.”
She moves to crawl back into the drivers seat.
I snag her arm midway. “But first...”
“What?” Damn, there’s excitement in her voice.
I grin and wonder where this little freak has been hiding my entire life. “We go back to the stadium so I can get my car, we drop off Coach’s truck, and you stay the night.”
She opens her mouth, I assume to protest.
“The whole night.”
Her brows pinch together. “You mean—”
“Fucking, sleeping, and breakfast.”
“Yeah, sure,” she agrees too quickly.
I release her to the drivers seat as she returns the speaker and fires up the engine.
The sneaky kitten thinks she’s going to crawl out of my bed in the middle of the night again. I’d love to see her try. I’ll tie her to the bed if I have to. She’d probably enjoy that.
Emery
“This is your car.” I stand back while Theodore opens the passenger side door to an old black muscle car with red interior.
“Get in, kitten.” He sounds bored by my surprise. Maybe even impatient.
“What is it?”
“Get in and I’ll tell you.” He lifts his dark brows, waiting for me to comply.
I take him in standing next to his car, making him look even more like a devilish James Dean.
I dropped him off at the dark stadium parking lot where he told me he’d pick me up at my house after dropping off my dad’s truck. I sat on the front steps of the house staring at the classic car not believing it was actually him until he got out to retrieve m
e.
“It fits you.” I drop into the passengers seat and run my hand over the leather. “How do you afford a car like this?” Sure, it’s a personal question, but after allowing a man inside my body multiple times I think we’re beyond personal boundaries.
The engine rumbles as he pulls away from the house. “You mean, how does a guy who comes from nothing afford a car?” He eyes me quickly. “I work.”
“What do you do?” He’s never mentioned having job or having to be up early for work. And it’s hard to believe with his school schedule and football that he’d even have time to work enough to afford a car like this.
He guns it once we hit the freeway. “I sell drugs.”
“Oh.” I stare blindly out the window. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. With his tattoos, piercing, constant scowl, he certainly looks the part. But drugs? He doesn’t strike me as the type of man that would lower himself to such weakness.
His low chuckle pulls me from my thoughts. “I can see the wheels turning in your pretty head.” His smile brings a boyishness to his face that softens his rough edges. “I don’t sell drugs.”
“Why would you lie?” I’m not sure if I believe him.
He shrugs. “Wanted to see how quickly you’d believe it.”
Another game. Will we ever stop playing them?
When we pull into his driveway he hits a remote that opens the garage door and pulls the vehicle inside. This explains why I never saw his car parked out front.
“Come on, I’ll show you how I make money.” He folds out of the car and I follow him inside. The house is dark and quiet, the rest of the guys must be out still celebrating their win.
Once in his room he turns on the lights and opens a laptop on his desk. He pulls out the desk chair and motions for me to sit. I settle in cautiously but curious as to what I’m about to see. Does he do porn? Hack bank accounts? Does he have an Etsy page? A few clicks of the mouse and colorful images slide across a dark screen—dragons, skulls, pin-up girls. Art typically seen on…