A lusty groan rumbled in his throat as he gripped her soft, hot flesh. If this was her way of repaying him for letting her stay over, he wasn’t honorable enough to refuse. All thought and scruples fled his brain as fire surged through his body, making a beeline to his cock.
“I’ve been holding out for you, Jeanine.” He took full advantage and played with her tight nipple.
“Then it’s time to fold.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Jeanine was playing with fire, but somehow she didn’t care. Her body took control, and she’d deal with the consequences later. What could Kirk do to her anyway? It wasn’t as if she was looking for forever, and her heart wasn’t up for grabs—never had been, once she’d learned her lesson.
All that mattered was tonight. The here and now, and who was she to let a seriously sexy body go to waste? She hadn’t intended on having sex with Kirk, although in the back of her mind, it had always been a possibility, but the feel of being on his bed, surrounded by his scent, luxuriating in his warmth—she’d be a fool to pass it up.
She swept the blanket from her body and hauled Kirk over her. His lips crashed down on hers, wasting no time in possessing her. She grabbed and pawed at him, stroking his tongue with hers as she wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her sensitive zone against the long and hard bulge under his sweatpants.
She rocked her hips, seeking more pressure, more friction. Her hands slipped under his waistband and grabbed his hard, sexy ass and he responded by grinding into her so that they both moaned, panting and aroused.
“I can’t wait any longer,” she gasped as he backed off to lift her short dress. She sat up to let him remove it and unlatched her bra, freeing her breasts.
“Wow. They’re beautiful.” Kirk’s breath ratcheted up as he grabbed them hungrily, and his lips and tongue went to work. Electricity arced through Jeanine’s body, and she squeezed her thighs together at the thrumming passion shooting from her nipples to her clit.
Damn. The man was good. Every suck and stroke of his tongue sent a throb down to her core, readying her for his invasion between her legs. She bucked her hips to remind him that other areas of her body needed tending, and he responded by slipping her panties down to her knees.
He backed off her breasts and raked his lust-filled eyes over her body. “You’re so fucking beautiful, so sexy, and shit, so horny.”
His admiration emboldened her to kick off her panties and spread her legs, giving him an eyeful of her glistening folds as an offering to him.
He sucked in a breath and began undressing. Too slow, as if he had all night and the next day. On an ordinary day, she might have enjoyed the sensual, seductive strip-tease, especially since it unveiled fine muscles glinting with a light dust of golden blond hair.
But she’d been high and dry too long and if he was going to tease her, she’d take care of herself. Having him watch was enough, and she’d never known a man who didn’t want to join in.
She met Kirk’s lust-filled gaze and twirled her fingers over her well-trimmed landing strip. As his eyes widened, she ran her tongue around her lips and stroked her clit in a circular motion.
Absent-mindedly, he unbuttoned his shirt, his mouth slack while he watched her. She moved one hand to her breast and pinched her nipple while the other one rubbed faster to throw her up the pole of arousal. Her hips jerked in rhythm and she was no longer putting on a show for him, seeking that icy hot sensation, grinding her flesh against her own hand.
She was close, very close as she arched her head back and rode the electrifying currents zapping through her body, ready to hurtle off the cliff, when Kirk grabbed her hand away from her crotch.
“Not without me, sugarpuss.” His voice growled like an enraged grizzly as he pressed his palm over her throbbing center.
She bucked up against his palm, seeking her release, but he only applied a slow, circular pressure, not giving her clit any special attention.
“Don’t tease me, Kirk. I need to get off. It’s been a sucky week.”
“Tell me about it.” He lowered his smirking lips toward the area between her legs.
The first kiss made her almost jump off the bed and ache with weepy desire. It was so soft and sweet, right on her sensitive bud, caring and tender. He kissed her again, as if she were an exquisite rosebud, then lightly tickled her with his tongue.
“Ahhh …” The sweetest sensation radiated from her clit, strumming every chord of pleasure in her body. Her toes curled and her fingers flexed, clutching onto the bedsheets.
He palmed one of her breasts while his fingers played just outside of her entrance. He kissed her again, seemingly loving that sensitive pleasure center, and tickled her swollen, wet lips, spreading her juices around before finally plunging one strong finger into her canal.
She arched her back and pushed against him, writhing and jerking for her climax.
“You in a hurry or something?” He spoke against her clit, making her quiver, before lapping her with his tongue.
“Oooh …” Jeanine groaned at the exquisite sensation, too far gone to give him an answer. Her orgasm swept her like a flash flood, and she was drowning in an ocean of ecstasy. She flailed like a boat unmoored, and the head rush crested and flung her over, gasping and panting with shooting stars behind her eyelids as the most intense orgasm she’d ever known slammed her heart like a fastball into Kirk’s catcher’s mitt.
Before the quakes subsided, he was around her, arms holding her tight, his huge, hard cock straining against his briefs, rubbing heat between her legs.
He stroked her back, her arms, her shoulders, and his mouth was pinned to hers, giving her a taste of her own pleasure, making her head swim with unspoken dreams of morning cuddles, midday romps, and evenings in front of the fireplace.
* * *
Kirk’s entire body was pumped up and primed to take his prize, but his head threw a bucket of ice over his cock.
She probably screws all the guys like that. She’s acting. She’s using you to get off. After you fuck her, she’ll never want anything to do with you again.
Ah yes, of course, that shouldn’t bother him. Wasn’t that also his modus operandi? Get off and get away. Never look back.
But somehow, Jeanine mattered. She’d come to him as a friend, and he was never one to to turn his back on a friend—male or female. Friends were precious. Friends deserved consideration, and friends could not be thrown away.
Which was why he’d never fucked a friend—either the good way or the bad way.
“Your turn, big boy,” Jeanine’s throaty voice spoke to his rock hard cock as her hand slipped under the waistband of his briefs and closed around his Louisville slugger.
He helped her lower his briefs and groaned at the shooting sensations spiraling from her grip.
“We’re good friends, aren’t we?” she said, her mouth hovering over the tip of his dick. “Good friends.”
“Yes, yes. We are.” He had no clue what she was angling for, and he was in no position to bargain, not when she was eyeing him as if she wanted to devour him.
“Good, because that means you’re not throwing me out after I suck you off.”
“W-why would I do that?” His voice carried a desperate strain, as if his vocal chords were stretched to the breaking point.
She licked around the sensitive spot right below the tip, then kissed the drop of pre-cum from the glans. His eyes closed at the incredible sensation of pleasure.
“Don’t know. Something about rules and complications.” She lowered her head over his pole and wrapped her tongue around him, killing all his rules and regulations, slaying him right on his own bed.
He gripped the mattress as his hips bucked to the rhythm of her mouth, accompanied by her fingers stroking his balls. Damn. He was going to lose it in less than a minute flat, and then what? She’d snicker and send him back to the locker room.
“No, wait. No more.” He struggled against the relentless incoming tide of passion.
She ignored him, her hand gripping the base tighter and her mouth and tongue moving faster. She bobbed her head, and he could feel himself swelling,
He grabbed her head and drew himself out fast. No, no, no, no. He didn’t want to shoot and lose out on fucking her good, making her come with him inside of her, feeling those walls clench around him, taking all of him in.
Usually, he didn’t care. Usually, getting off in a woman’s mouth was more efficient. Didn’t waste time. In and out. Done. But this was Jeanine, and heck, was he crazy? He wanted to make love to her. He wanted her screaming and crying out his name. He wanted her nails across his back and her legs around his waist. He wanted it all. Front, back, up, down, every way possible.
His hand slapped at the nightstand, scrambling at the drawer for a condom.
“Looking for this?” She peeled a packet from the drawer and ripped the wrapper.
“Sheathe it.” He ordered, then moaned as she worked the rubber onto his raging erection. Somehow, her motions were more subdued, as if the interruption of getting the condom had stolen her thunder.
“You still with me? You still good?” He tilted her chin to get a good look into her shifty eyes.
She nodded, biting her lips. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Her voice had taken a meek and tiny tone, as if she was complying to his demands.
“Just good?”
“Yes, which way do you want it?” She stared at his sheathed cock in a way that made him nervous.
“Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Okay.” She laid back and held her breasts up, but her legs were crossed.
What happened to the sex kitten who’d been sucking him off a few moments ago? Maybe she wasn’t comfortable with conventional sex. Maybe she didn’t want to make love. She only wanted to get him off because he’d gotten her off.
He leaned to her side and put his hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to.”
“But I do.” She palmed her hands over her face. “I want to get past this.”
“This isn’t a test you have to pass.” He slipped the blanket up over her body.
“I’m not usually like this.” She clutched the edge of the blanket, blinking back tears. “I like sex. I told you I wanted to do it. I made a pass at you, and now I’m freaking out, and you’re not going to get off.”
“It doesn’t matter.” His erection had faded at her distress, and he couldn’t care less that he wasn’t going to get his rocks off. “I would never take a woman against her will.”
“But I’m willing.”
“It’s okay.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I’m glad you’re willing, but I think it’s time to go to sleep.”
She wiped her eyes. “I can’t even fuck anymore. I can’t even close my eyes and let it happen. You must think I’m a tease.”
“You’re not.” He rubbed her back in a soothing, comforting way. “This morning you said you were going to get help for the sex addiction thing.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “What addiction? I just ruined your evening. You know what? You’re too considerate. You should have just taken me and stopped asking questions.”
“I’m a professional catcher.” Kirk threaded his fingers through her hair. “I watch for signs, and I’m always asking questions. I never assume or take anything for granted.”
“Oh, great. Just my luck to get the guy with the spidey senses.”
He kissed her lips and smiled so she could feel him smiling. She was darn right. She got him already, hooked, lined, and sunk.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kirk had a few hours before he absolutely had to be at the clubhouse. He’d been running late. No surprise, since he’d spent the night on a lumpy futon by himself after putting himself firmly in the friend-zone with Jeanine.
He had to. After she froze on him in bed, his ego had taken a beating. Sure, he’d passed it off like it was nothing. She had a problem with sex addiction. She had issues. She needed treatment. She had some trauma that was keeping her from being able to relax.
But deep down, how could he not take it personally?
When morning came, he’d gone with Jeanine to her apartment and stood with her while she called the locksmith to change the locks and a security specialist to sweep for electronic monitoring devices. Afterward, they’d said an awkward goodbye with the obligatory “I’ll text you,” which meant nothing, since he wasn’t going to bark up her tree and annoy her.
Now, he was back in his apartment which felt strangely empty. He walked into his bedroom and crunched the sheets that Jeanine had slept in into his fists, holding them to his nose. Her scent lingered, intoxicating and musky, sultry like the dark, rich perfume she wore. It got his heart beating like a hit of espresso and adrenaline, addictive, but ultimately frustrating. He’d never, ever had to leave a woman’s side unsatisfied. Ever.
She was apologetic, overly so. They’d agreed to be friends. Friends only. Friends without benefits. Which meant he should start dating again, or at least hooking up. He needed to get back on the horse as soon as possible. Coming off that almost-sex situation with Jeanine had him primed with nowhere to go, and he needed to get going.
He stuffed the sheets into the washing machine and started the cycle. Kirk never mooned over any woman, and he wasn’t going to start with Jeanine. He’d thought she wanted him, too, but apparently, he was only a hurdle for her—someone to sleep with to prove to herself that she desired sex, that she liked it and wanted it.
Kirk went through his bathroom and removed all traces of the fact a woman had stayed. He emptied his trash and threw out the makeup wipes she left. He should never have broken his rule by bringing a woman to his place. It was a good rule, and he’d lived by it since the day he caught his ex-fiancée fucking another man in his bed.
He pulled clean sheets onto his bed and changed the pillowcases. No one would ever violate his bed again. Especially a woman out to prove something—as if having sex with him was distasteful—a chore she had to get over.
He picked up a long, blond hair from the headboard and drew it through his fingers. No other woman had crawled under his skin the way Jeanine had, but he wasn’t going to punish himself and wait it out. Tonight, after the game, he was going to have sex. There were plenty of bars and plenty of hot, sun-kissed women in Arizona who were ready and willing.
Kirk let the hair drop into a wastebasket and went to the kitchen. After pouring himself a cup of coffee and a bowl of Wheaties, he thumbed through his phone, reading email.
His brother wanted to know if he’d given the love letters to Jeanine or not. Why was it he couldn’t escape from this Jeanine Jewell, no matter where he turned?
He typed a message informing him that he wasn’t going to forward the letters to Jeanine. Whatever game Mom was playing was not one he was going to participate in—especially delivering letters from some down-on-his-luck chump. She’d probably thrown him over the barrel, too.
Were the letters even signed? The guy had called Jeanine his lucky charm. Was that his nickname for her? If he were a real man, why wouldn’t he send the letters to her directly? Even better, send email.
But then, maybe this was not a sane person. A chilling thought ran down his spine. This could be one of the stalkers, looking for an opportunity to make himself known.
Kirk dug the packet containing the letters out of the closet. He opened one after another. None of the letters were signed by name—only nicknames—which usually meant a married lover. The sheets of paper were yellowed and crinkled. How old were these letters?
Dearest Jeanine, I can’t get over how lucky I am to find you. Even though it took a long time for you to open up to me, it was worth the wait. You are a fresh and tender flower and I feel so privileged to be the one you turn to whenever you’re sad or scared. Have no doubt. I will never let anyone hurt you. I will always protect you because you are so precious to me. I hope you realized that
the other day when I found you crying. You were hurt because some people said some very mean and hurtful things about you. I was able to take those tears away, wasn't I?
So never worry, my heart. As long as I’m on this earth drawing breath, I will always love you and protect you.
Your lover
Something about the letter made Kirk’s skin crawl. The handwriting looked masculine and hard, the paper showing indentations from the pen ripping through the pages. The writer had been angry that someone had hurt Jeanine, but Kirk couldn’t picture Jeanine crying because somebody said something about her. She was more likely to tell them off than to cry.
Troubled, he opened another one.
Dearest Jeanine, I hope you enjoyed your sixteenth birthday party. I want to let you know how proud I am of your behavior and demeanor. Some of your friends acted very childish when they shut down the roller coaster we’d waited so long for, but you didn’t join in as they jeered the park workers. Later when I took all of you to the movies and they wanted you to sit with them in the front row, you knew I couldn’t stand looking up at a giant screen so close—that it made me sick, so you agreed to sit with me in the back. I knew at that moment how truly you loved me and I am again thankful that you came into my life. I can picture you as a young lady, all grown up, and when that day comes, I can hardly wait to make you mine. Love always, Your honey.
Gag. Kirk choked over the Wheaties, and milk spurted through his nose. This man who was in love with Jeanine was obviously older than she and most likely someone who was trusted to take her and her teenaged friends out to celebrate her birthday. The writing style was strange, and Kirk couldn’t picture himself or any guy he knew writing such a sappy, sugary letter to any woman or girl, for that matter.
What was Jeanine’s reaction to these letters? Obviously she must have thrown them away. How did his mother get a hold of them?
Playing Catch: A Baseball Romance Page 15