Hoops Holiday

by Ryan, Kennedy

  He reaches toward the wall and flicks on the light. I squint against the sudden brightness, lowering my head so my hair covers my face. I’m reminded of our first kiss, of our first time making love in the dark. He wanted the light on, but I insisted we leave it off. I promised him and myself I was done hiding in the dark, but with the unreasonable ache in my heart on display and probably all over my face, I want to beg him to turn out the light. Jared narrows his eyes, the look he gives me sharpening. He crosses the room in a few strides to stand in front of me and tips up my chin.

  “You’ve been crying. What’s going on?”

  I turn my head a few inches to loosen my chin from his fingers.

  “I’m fine.” I stand up and step around him. “Dinner will take no time.”

  He catches me by the elbow, his touch gentle and firm.

  “To hell with dinner. What’s wrong?”

  I close my eyes against the bright overhead light and against his probing stare. He’s concerned. It’s mixing in his eyes with love and stubbornness, a recipe for Jared’s tenacity. I’ve tasted it firsthand for years. When the man wants something, he doesn’t let up until he has it. That was true with his dreams, his goals.

  His wife.

  Usually, I’m here for it. Ready to match him, toe to toe, but tonight, there’s no fight, especially when the thing he’s fighting for is me.

  “Graciela’s pregnant,” I say softly, dropping my glance to the floor.

  “Oh.” Jared lets me go and crosses his arms over his chest. “Congratulations to them.”

  “They’re also engaged, by the way.”

  “Even better for them. We can send a plant or whatever you send when people procreate. What does that have to do with you sitting in a dark room crying and losing track of time, which is bullshit, by the way, because you don’t lose track of time?”

  “Don’t.” I run a hand through the hair tangled around my shoulders. “Please don’t tough love me right now. I can’t take it.”

  “Then how should I love you?” He cups my face, tilting my head until our eyes meet. “Tell me what you think you need, and I’ll see if I agree.”

  A humorless smile tips one corner of my mouth. He’s a bulldozer, but tonight I’m already flat.

  “They weren’t even trying, Jared,” I whisper. “It just happened for them. For her, and the doctor said it was so unlikely. But, boom. He breathes on her and she’s having a baby. They didn’t even have to use the sperm Zo set aside before he started his treatments.”

  “First of all, that’s a lot more than I wanted to ever know about Zo’s reproductive capabilities.”

  My lips twitch, but I refuse to laugh. “Do not try to cheer me up.”

  “I don’t want to cheer you up. I want to wake you up.”

  “Thank you, Tony Robbins.” I roll my eyes and start for the door.

  He takes my elbow again, tugging until I’m standing in front of him.

  “Hey.” He pushes a swathe of hair behind my ear and lifts my face. “You’re stronger than this.”

  “Am I?’ I shake my head and a runaway tear skids over my cheek. “What if my PCOS ruins everything? What if the doctor is right, and I get early onset menopause? What if—”

  “Yeah, what if all of that is true? What if it happens?” He waves his hand, motioning for me to continue. “What else you got?”

  I’m quiet, hurting.

  “Oh?” He cocks his head. “You’re out already? I’ve got some. What if I’m sterile? What if my dick falls off from overuse?”

  “Okay.” I snort involuntarily as he knew I would. “That’s not a thing.”

  “Lucky for you,” he says, relenting a small smile before going on. “My point is there’s no scenario you can dream up where I don’t love you, Banner. None of those things mean I don’t have you for the rest of our lives.”

  I look up, captured by the passion in his voice, the earnestness on his face.

  “I know you think I don’t want kids, and honestly, I never did,” he admits. “But I want to experience everything with you because everything is better with you. Life is better with you. I want to live it and not worry about what might happen, why it’s not happening fast enough, why it’s happening for someone else. All of it’s happening with you, and that means we face everything together. We have everything together.”

  And we have so much.

  I hate it when he’s right, but he’s so right. I’ve allowed this irrational fear and dissatisfaction to wreck my entire day. It road blocked my excitement for what is essentially Zo’s miracle. It had me snapping at the man I love more than anything in the world. Is there a lobotomy for emotions because I could do without them today.

  “You’re right,” I finally say.

  “No surprise there.”

  I give him a quelling look to let him know he’s pushing it.

  “Sorry,” he says, an unrepentant grin crooking his lips.

  “Liar.” I chuckle and reach up to link my wrists behind his neck. “I can count on one hand how many times you’ve been sorry since I met you.”

  It’s not an insult or a reprimand. I don’t need a man who apologizes for what he wants, for what he believes. Jared is a man of conviction. All completely his own, and I need that sometimes. That unshaken demeanor; his I don’t give a fuck on days like today when everything feels like salt poured over an open wound.

  “The way I look at it,” Jared says, slipping wide palms up my bare thighs and under the t-shirt to grip my ass. “We could stand around talking about having a baby, or we could try to make one.”

  He ghosts kisses down my neck, sucking the curve to my shoulder

  “Are we really gonna let all that super sexy ovulating go to waste, Banner?”

  “We shouldn’t.”

  I tunnel my fingers into the thick silkiness of his hair and walk us backward until he’s sitting on the window seat and I’m straddling him. With one hand he reaches between my legs and pushes my panties aside. He brushes over my clit, my lips, through the wet folds until he reaches the hot, waiting center and thrusts two fingers inside me. Unceremoniously. He tips his head back to rest against the window and watches my face for the response I can’t hide.

  “Jared, dammit.” I rock into his hand and press my forehead to his.

  He pulls me down farther, widening my knees over him and pushing my Kindle out of the way. It lands with a quiet thud on the carpeted floor.

  “You need to be gentler with my kindle,” I tell him, my laugh breathless; my lips following a hungry path up to his earlobe.

  “What’d I tell you?” His laugh is husky. His eyes, heated, loving. “Less reading. More fucking.”

  Jared

  I know how I want to ring in the New Year, and it’s not at this party schmoozing some dick who keeps looking down my wife’s dress. I mean, I get it. Banner looks sexy as hell. Her strapless dress defies gravity, magically supporting the fullness of her breasts. The red silk hugs the dip at her waist, stretches over the flare of her hips and caresses the curve of her ass.

  “Would you excuse us, Claude?” I ask, slicing into whatever nonsense he’s spouting while rudely ogling Banner at my side. “There’s someone over there we need to see.”

  I gesture vaguely across the room. Claude, president of one of the largest sports drink companies in North America, turns his head in that general direction. By the time he looks back, I’m already leading Banner away.

  “See you at the All-Star break,” I call, glancing back to give him a NutraSweet smile. “You’ll be there, right?”

  He opens his mouth to answer, but I don’t give a shit, and I’m tired of pretending I do.

  “Great,” I answer before he can respond. “Happy New Year. Give your wife our best.”

  “I don’t think he’s married,” Banner murmurs, smiling at a Gatorade executive with whom she’s been hammering out a deal for one of our clients.

  “Oh, that explains why he couldn’t keep his eyes off my wi
fe,” I answer from one side of my mouth and grinning at a VP of basketball operations with the other. “I’m ready to get the hell outta here.”

  She stops in the middle of the room, which makes me stop, too.

  “Jared, you were the one who wanted to do this industry party on New Year’s Eve.” Her eyes go wide, long lashes feathering up to the thick arch of her eyebrows.

  “Don’t even try it.” I laugh down at her, my hand tightening at her waist because it’s so hard not kissing her in front of all these people right the fuck now. “You said there would be contacts here we needed for the next few months.”

  “Okay, maybe I did say that.” She bites her bottom lip, which makes me envy her teeth because I want to bite her bottom lip just like that.

  No harder.

  “But I said let’s just stop through,” she continues, a grin crinkling her eyes at the corners. “You were the one who got us roped into that long conversation on unrestricted free agency.”

  “We need to know that guy.” I take her elbow and set us in motion again. “He’s working with the NBA Player’s Union.”

  “Did you forget that Kenan’s on the executive committee of the Player’s Union?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I shrug, but don’t stop our forward momentum. I have a goal in mind. “Not a waste of time, I promise you.”

  I wave to a retired player who has been requesting a meeting with us for representation. Not tonight, dude.

  “Where are we going?” Banner asks. She glances over her shoulder and then forward down the long corridor ahead of us. The music and murmur of conversation and tinkling liquor-filled glasses fades the farther we venture down the darkened hall. “Are we supposed to be down here?”

  “Our host has this incredible library with a view of the hills.” I look back over my shoulder to make sure no one is following us. All clear. “It’s right in here.”

  I open the door to our right and give Banner a gentle shove inside. She stumbles a little and swings around to face me, the dark length of her hair arcing out behind her.

  “What the hell?” she asks, her mouth slightly open and her expression startled.

  I don’t leave her time to wonder, but lock the door and pin her to the shelf of books against the wall.

  “All night,” I mutter against the satiny column of her neck. “I have been wanting you all night.”

  “Jared.” She laughs, a flush sifting pink into her honey gold complexion. “We’re gonna get caught. Stop playing.”

  “Does this feel like I’m playing?” I press my erection into the cradle of her hips. “I’m as serious as a heart attack. Or maybe a hard on. I’m as serious as a hard on.”

  “You . . . we can’t.” She looks up at me, and I hear what she’s saying, but I know that look. It’s the sense of adventure my girl leashes when she’s not sure she should take a risk. And I’m the guy who sets that leash on fire. I tug at the neckline of her strapless dress, and her breasts fall free. I squat and take one nipple in my mouth, groaning and slipping my hand under her dress and up her thigh.

  “Jared.” She pants and wrings my hair in her fingers tightly. “That feels . . . you’re really gonna do this here?”

  “Yes, here.” I push her panties aside, thrusting my middle finger into the warm, wet tunnel of her pussy. “These are such a waste of time. I wish you’d stop wearing them.”

  “Panties?” She breathes a laugh. “You want me to stop wearing panties?”

  “They slow me down.” I dip my head to kiss her, tangling our tongues and licking across her teeth. “God, I could just eat you. Fuck, Ban. You’re so good.”

  She thinks I’m exaggerating about how I want her; how I need her. She thinks I like to have sex in public to be outrageous, but most of the time I simply can’t resist her. I don’t want to. I don’t want to wait until we get home, or until it’s safe. Why the hell should I? I found someone I could love, no holds barred. I luxuriate in that. I want her every chance I get, and safe doesn’t mean shit to me.

  “I love you. You’re everything.” I mumble between our lips, into the kiss. “Fuck safe.”

  “I love you back.” She breaks the kiss to look into my eyes, but leaves our bodies molded together. “Fuck safe.”

  She turns quickly to face the shelves, pressing her naked breasts into a row of books.

  “From the back,” she says, her voice urgent. Her hands frantic and pushing the dress up over her thighs, over her ass. The thong bisects two perfectly round globes of my wife’s ass, and I almost come immediately like a fourteen-year-old getting his first nut. I fumble with my belt and snag my finger in the teeth of the zipper.

  “Ouch. Shit.” I suck my finger and drop my pants, angling her hips for me.

  “Unf.” The sound flies from her mouth when I take her from behind, pounding up and into her. “Yes. God, yes, Jared. Dios. Dios. Dios.”

  I don’t have the heart to remind her to be quiet. With every thrust, her screams swell louder, and it’s the most arousing sound I’ve ever heard. I love peeling back all Banner’s carefully constructed layers of control and freeing the wild woman who blindly reaches behind until she finds my bare ass and urges me deeper and harder.

  I squeeze one breast and push the length of wavy hair away from her neck. The skin, smooth and unblemished, has tempted me all night. When the passion cools, if she has to walk out there with a hickey for a roomful of our colleagues to see, she’ll kill me. But I have to leave my mark; to lay my claim, even if it is a secret nestled under a thick fall of hair that no one else sees. I suck and bite the soft skin of her nape, steadily pumping into her body with unchecked force, yielding to the feral urges that have seized me by the dick ever since she came out of our bedroom wearing this dress. I lick at the bruise already forming, and her pussy contracts around me; a hot, wet, tight fist that holds me captive.

  God, I’m gonna come.

  And she hasn’t come.

  I hate that. I’ve never felt that with another woman. I mean, as a point of pride, you want a woman to get off, yeah. But with Banner, it’s not pride. I literally want her pleasure above mine. Considering what a selfish bastard I am, that’s a phenomenon. A miracle like one of Aunt Valentina’s pieces of toast that looks just like Baby Jesus.

  I reach around and find the button of nerves tucked between the plump lips and stroke.

  “Ay, Dios mío,” she mutters, slamming her fist into the shelf she’s pressed against. “Más fuerte.”

  Harder.

  I can do that. I push up into her so hard, I glance down to see her on her tiptoes. Damn right.

  “Más,” Banner growls, squeezing my butt. “Fuerte”.

  Shit, my wife loves it hard.

  “Ban, I don’t want—”

  “Por favor, lo necesito más fuerte.”

  How the hell any husband could resist his wife begging him to fuck her harder, I don’t know. And I’m for sure not that guy, so I brace one palm against the shelf and grip her hip with the other hand and slam as far as I can go into nirvana pussy.

  “Fuuuuuuuuck,” I whisper. I can barely speak, the pleasure is so thick. A tangible thing like a heavy cloud hovering over us, poised to downpour. A book falls, barely missing Banner’s head.

  “Ban, the books—”

  “Còegeme.,” she orders, her voice a smoky rasp.

  Fuck me.

  Dammit, if it’s the last thing I do, I will fuck her harder, even if the whole damn Dewey Decimal system falls on our heads before we both come.

  I exert more force and sweat beads my forehead. Peering over her shoulder, I see tiny rivulets of perspiration slide between Banner’s breasts. Three more books drop by my feet.

  “Ahhhhhh!” The scream is wrenched from her throat, and she tips her head back to rest on my shoulder. “Shit, Jared. Yes.”

  A shudder runs through her soft curves, and she contracts around me, squeezing every ounce of pleasure out of the connection between our bodies.

  Okay. We definitely h
ave a walk of shame when we leave this library, but I don’t give a damn because an orgasm takes ruthless possession of my entire body. Fire claws through my blood, smoke blows over the nerve endings in my calves, thighs. A tremor overtakes me as I empty into my woman.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Every word is accompanied by a piston thrust into my wife’s limp body. Her back rests against my chest, and she’s just receiving me now, so blissed out I have to hold her up when my own legs feel like Jell-O and I’m not sure how much longer I can stand. An upper shelf rains down several books, and I have to shift us a few inches to avoid the falling hardbacks.

  Banner’s husky chuckle comes as I’m finishing inside her, coming down, crashing hard. I push her hair aside again, licking the hickey I left on the back of her neck and scattering kisses across her bare shoulders.

  “¿De qué te ríes?” I ask. She loves it when I speak Spanish. It’s not my native language like it is for her, and she’s been helping me get better at it.

  “I’m laughing at us wrecking this poor man’s library,” she replies in Spanish.

  At least I think that’s what she says.

  “We’ll clean up.” I glance from the books to the upper shelves from which they fell. “Well what we can reach.”

  I lean deeper into her back for a moment, relishing the dampness of her skin. I kiss the hair curling at her neck from perspiration. My hands go to her hips and then around to cup her stomach where the bodice of her dress bunches at her waist. The original reason I suggested the party rushes back to mind. August and Iris called from San Diego with good news. They’re having a baby. Is the whole damn world fertile? I’m pelted with pregnant women at every turn.

  Banner didn’t flinch or wince or even grimace at the news, but gave them the full measure of her enthusiasm. We laughed with them and even talked about it after they hung up. I asked Banner if she was fine, and she assured me she was. I even believed her.

  Still.

  I thought getting out of the house on New Year’s Eve might be a good distraction if she felt any lingering disappointment that it’s not our time yet.