by Alexis Anne
It would be cute if it weren’t also kind of sad. How had he been led so astray? “Sex can be a lot of fun. It can also be frantic. Or dirty,” I rolled to my side and patted the bed. “It can be whatever you want it to be.”
His eyes went blank and his whole face shuttered.
Oh.
This was different.
I didn’t like this at all.
“You enjoy sex,” he finally said.
“I do.” What was with the sudden shift in mood?
“And you like it dirty?” He practically sneered this part.
“Dirty, clean, fun, serious, I like it to be whatever the mood calls for. What’s the matter with you?”
I realized he was tense and still very far away. This was interesting.
He ran a hand over his face. “I’m being ridiculous.” Then he looked at me. “I was just picturing you with other men and it made me mad.”
Oh.
Oh…
I never ever thought I’d be attracted to jealous or possessiveness, but here I was, more than a little turned on by Roman’s discomfort.
“My boyfriend at Yale. We were very good friends but we both knew it wasn’t the kind of love that would last past graduation. We were attracted to each other and enjoyed each other’s company.”
Roman’s jaw started ticking. He really was jealous.
And I really was turned on by it.
I kept going. “So we agreed to explore it all. I learned what I liked and didn’t like. By the end, I pretty clear on when I was willing to take a relationship to the next level or go home and take care of myself. I’ve slept with a few guys over the years. Nothing huge. Certainly not near the number I’m sure you’ve had.”
I thought mentioning his list of conquests would level the playing field. I was wrong. Instead it seemed to make things worse. “You’re right. I’ve used a number of women.” Then his face softened and he turned those warm brown, needy eyes on me again. “But I’ve never wanted a woman this way. I don’t know if I like it all those different ways you just mentioned, or just one way. I don’t know anything.”
“Yet.” I ran my hand over the comforter again. “Unless you want to leave.”
“I don’t.”
“Then I don’t understand what you’re doing all the way over there.”
He was beside me in a flash, kissing me the way he’d kissed me in the locker room.
“How is it possible you can kiss like this and not know how foreplay works?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever kissed anyone like this before.” He fisted his hand in my hair. “You do something to me.”
“Keep going,” I gasped. “Just like the kiss. Follow your instinct.”
He hesitated, the doubt written all over his adorably confused face, then he rolled me onto my back, continuing the kiss, but this time allowing his hands to roam my body. He was tentative and after a few moments of fumbling I took his hand and placed it on my breast.
“I’m not made of glass. Don’t think. Just enjoy it.”
He squeezed, watching my reaction. “You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?”
“You’re not touching me.”
He smiled. “Got it.”
“Tell me again. Tell me about your fantasy.” Maybe if we picked up where we left off it would take us back to where we were when we raced out of the locker room.
He kissed down my neck, sucking softly, massaging my breast before moving down my side to my hip. “You’re beautiful. You knocked me on my ass the day we met. I had no idea who you were.” He nudged my knee so he could thread his between mine. Good move. “All I knew was that I needed to meet you. Your hand, your voice, your eyes . . . all of it was such a turn on. I wanted you right then and there.”
I arched into his touch while pulling his head down to my chest. I wanted him to explore. “You wanted to fuck me.”
“No.” He brushed his lips over the edge of my shirt and nuzzled between my breasts. “It was already different. I wanted to know you. And then the fantasy started.” He pressed his thigh into my jeans. I rocked my hips up for more friction. The combination was explosive and we spent the next minute lost in another deep kiss. “I heard you calling my name over and over. Writhing every time I touched you. I lost my mind wanting you.”
“I’m right here.”
“And it’s better than all my fantasies combined.”
I think I knew right then that I would sleep with Roman. I wouldn’t be able to stop at showing him how to bring me to orgasm. I’d need all of him to satisfy the heat blazing inside me.
“Take my clothes off.”
It was an awkward few minutes of fumbling but eventually we were naked. He stroked himself again and I had the sudden urge to do it, too. “May I?”
He froze, then slowly took my hand in his, wrapping it around the base of his cock. “Please.”
I carefully stroked up and down, learning his size and shape. He was thick. Very thick. His skin soft against my palm but his erection so hard I marveled that I was still able to move him with each flick of my wrist.
“Roman,” I whispered, wondering if this was what he heard in his dreams.
His eyes flew to mine and locked. Then he reached down and removed my hand, pressing me onto my back, holding my hand above my head as stared into my eyes. I thrust my breasts up toward his mouth.
“Kiss me.”
“On your nipple?” He was so clueless.
“Yes on my nipple. They’re sensitive. It feels really good.”
With his hand on mine he lowered his mouth to my nipple and placed a gentle kiss on the tip.
“More.”
He kissed me again.
“Put me in your mouth.” I was going to come out of my skin if he didn’t.
He watched me intently as he opened his mouth and sucked it into his mouth, so I made sure to show him exactly how good it felt. I gasped, I moaned, I arched upward for more. “You can use your tongue to play.” I couldn’t finish my thought because he did exactly as I suggested.
His tongue swirled around, stroking and flicking. “Like that?”
“God, yes. Just like that.”
“What about teeth?”
I might have gotten a little wetter seeing the way he wanted me. “A little can be good. Go slow and work your way up. You’ll know when it’s too much.”
With feather-light touches Roman experimented until I was trembling.
“I had no idea,” he croaked as I writhed beneath him. “You really like this?”
I took his hand and placed it between my legs, dipping his finger into my wetness. “What do you think?”
His eyes flew to mine, watching as he moved his fingers in and out of me, testing the motion. “You’re so wet. So warm.”
“That’s my version of a rock hard cock.”
He dipped his head and teased my other nipple in exactly the same way. “And this does that?” He moved his fingers again and I moaned.
“Yes, Roman. It does . . . when you do it right.”
“And I’m doing it right?”
He worked his fingers fast and then oh so slow.
“Yes,” I hissed.
“What else?” Ever the eager student.
In all honesty I was so close it wouldn’t take much. “There’s still a lot to learn. You haven’t even found my clit.”
“It’s here?” His thumb brushed the skin an inch above it.
I adjusted his position. “There.”
The moment he applied pressure I bucked off the bed.
“And is my thumb best? Or is this where I should put my mouth?”
His mouth? I shuddered. It hadn’t occurred to me that he’d want to go there.
He took my silence as an affirmation and suddenly his warm mouth closed around my clit, sending a shockwave throughout my entire body. I pulsed around his fingers.
“What was that?” He looked up at me in wonder, sliding his fingers in and out again.
It was
hard to catch my breath at this point, not that I was complaining in the least. “That was the early sign I have an orgasm on the way.” He really didn’t know anything.
Fascinating.
And a little exciting.
He was all mine to mold.
He brushed his thumb over my clit again, watching intently as I moaned and pulsed. His eyes darkened as his pupils dilated, his jaw thrusting forward, his cheeks flushing. “I could watch you all day long,” he murmured.
Before I could reply he kissed my clit again, his tongue searching this time, exploring my folds and the way his fingers could play together with his mouth.
My orgasm built slowly which, in retrospect, was probably a very good thing. It gave Roman a chance to see and feel the entire process. How it built and plateaued, but could be urged forward with a slight change in intensity.
His fingers filled and stretched me, my impeding orgasm a warm ache of tightening muscles deep inside my core. He watched every emotion as it crossed my face and when I finally came I made sure to give him exactly what he wanted.
“Roman,” I moaned, my fists clutching the comforter. I bucked against his hand. “Oh, Roman.” Even if I hadn’t made the effort, I knew I would have said it. He’d done something by baring his soul to me. His vulnerability made me want to be vulnerable, too.
His chest rose and fell rapidly as he gulped for air, every muscle in his body taut. “I had no idea,” he whispered a second time.
“About what?”
“Where do I start?” he laughed. “That an orgasm did that to a woman? That it would be such a turn-on to watch? That it would feel so good for me?” He slid his fingers out and studied them. “That you could get so wet . . . or that I’d want to taste it?”
I was in a post-orgasmic fog but that last part cut through. “You want to taste me?”
He kept staring at his fingers. “Like my life depends on it. Would you mind?”
He wanted to taste me down there? Now? “Have you ever tasted a woman before?”
He gave me a look. “Of course not.”
My sex clenched at the idea of being his first. I was greedy for something I didn’t even know I wanted until two seconds ago. “Then go ahead.” I spread my legs.
He licked his lips, the desire practically come off of him in waves. He took his time pulling me toward the edge of the bed so he could kneel on the floor. And then he was on me. Tasting and exploring with an enthusiasm I didn’t know a man could have. It felt good and strange all at the same time. He licked and sucked, ran his stubble along the inside of my leg, used his fingers to open me more fully to him.
And suddenly I wasn’t so blissed out anymore.
Oh no. Suddenly I was very keenly aware of how hungry I was for more of Roman St. James.
“Yes,” he hissed when my hips rolled. “Yes, Beautiful. More. I want to give you more.”
“Then keep doing what you’re doing.” It was all the right things in all the right places.
He pulled me closer, massaging my thighs as he worked me. His tongue slid up, then down and inside me. His fingers pressed and plunged. I couldn’t follow anything any longer. All I knew was that he had pushed me right back to the cliff and all I had to do was tip off the end.
He wanted me to come. In fact, he was doing everything in his power to bring me pleasure for a second time. Who was I to stop him? “Yes. There, Roman. Like that. Oh, yes!”
He responded to every request and more until I came apart in the most powerful orgasm. “Oh God. Oh Roman. Yes!”
There were orgasms and then there was this.
There was no name for what I experienced. It was pleasure on an entirely new level.
“It was good?” he asked, panting from the floor.
“Was it good? Holy crap, Roman. It was amazing.” I didn’t even think about whether I wanted to stroke his ego or not. It was the truth and well deserved.
“Yeah?” he laughed and cheered with a fist in the air. “I told you I was a quick study.”
“I can’t believe that was your first time.” Or that I would forever get to hold the privilege of being Roman’s first oral sex orgasm.
“I just followed your advice. I went on instinct like our kiss.” There was the sound of rustling and a zipper. I looked up just as he whipped on his shirt.
“Where are you going?”
He glanced at me over his shoulder with a look of mischief. “Home.”
“But—”
He cut me off with the wave of his hand. “This was a lesson, remember? Thank you. I appreciate it. I hope you had a good time.” Now he had his shoes on and was adjusting his erection behind the band of his jeans.
“You’re going home,” I repeated slowly. It was like I didn’t understand the words.
“Yes.” He bent down and kissed me on the forehead. “And if after we have clearer heads in the morning you are still interested in giving me another lesson, I’d love to come back.”
“Come back?”
“For another lesson.”
I blinked up at him but I was still lost in a fog of pleasure. “Another lesson?”
This time he knelt down beside me and brushed my hair back from my face. “I am so hard right now it hurts. I want you, June Daniels. But I want you to want me, too. Think about it.”
19
Present Day, Aim For Athletics Rehabilitation Center
I stared at the sign as we drove into the parking lot. I hadn’t let myself dwell on the center after the dinner, partially because it was too monumental to handle at the time, and partly because I wanted Roman to tell me about it in his own way.
Now I felt winded.
It was beautiful in a way that only someone as nerdy as me would think the multi-level building painted a comforting shade of yellow could be. It was friendlier than most medical centers and I liked that.
“What do you think?” he asked, pulling into an open spot on the side of the building.
“Well, you know what they say. What really matters is on the inside.”
That got me a smile. He put the car in park and engaged the parking brake before turning off the engine. “Care for a personal tour?”
“I’d love one.” My blood hummed, coming into tune with some song I couldn’t hear but felt down to my very soul.
The double sliding doors opened a few seconds apart to preserve the cold air inside. Instead of an imposing front desk we stepped into an open atrium that was as bright as the light outside. In the middle of the atrium was a small garden with tables and benches. On the other side was a welcome center bustling with what appeared to be patients and doctors.
“Normally you’d check-in there but since you’re with me we can skip that step today.”
It was as if I’d just come home. The dark wood accents were warm and welcoming, just like the garden. Classical music floated through the air and there were beautiful area rugs scattered around the sitting areas to dampen the sound echoing off the marble surfaces.
“Why are you showing me all this now?” Something I’d said at lunch had sprung him into immediate action. He wanted me to see the center and he wanted me to see it now.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at his feet—a sure sign of vulnerability if ever there was one. And it was kind of sexy on a man who could have been one of the greatest ball players to ever play the game.
“You remember what I said in Vegas? That I was wooing you and Carrie? Well,” he shrugged, “I meant it. And when you said you were worried that your job would eventually make you feel restless? Come work here.” He looked up and into my eyes. “Your talents are a perfect fit and it would give you the freedom to travel as much as you want while still doing exactly what you love.”
“You mean work for you.”
“No,” he said quickly, then grabbed my hand. “Let’s talk in here where we have some privacy.” Down the first hallway was a conference room with a large table and glass walls. I wasn’t sure it was much
more private than the atrium. “I started the facility and I’m a member of the board, but you wouldn’t be working for me, you’d be working for Aim For Athletics. I have nothing to do with the hiring or the staffing.”
The distinction still seemed murky to me but I had to admit I was curious. “I don’t think it would be a good idea. I’m pretty sure dating is more than enough for the universe to handle right now.”
“You’d still be working with athletes,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard a word I said. “And not just rehabilitation. I know that bores you. You’d be designing lifestyles for each athlete. Something to take with them for the rest of their lives. We’ve set things so they can always come back to us a year, five years, ten years down the road. And more than that, you’d be working with our psychologists and life coaches. It’s a team effort, just like we’re all used to.”
He stared at me expectantly.
“I honestly don’t know what to say right now.” It sounded like a wonderful facility during his speech in Vegas, and now that I was standing in it I knew it was going to be everything I’d imagined and more.
But that didn’t necessarily mean I wanted to work here.
“Let me show you around. I think it will help you see why you’d be a perfect fit.”
I silently took it all in as he led me from room to room. The first floor was entirely doctor’s offices and meeting rooms while the second floor was a world-class gym, media room, game room, and art center. It was designed to take an athlete from injury, through rehabilitation, and into a new life, whatever that might be.
“This is so much more than anything we dreamed,” I whispered more to myself, but he heard me anyway.
“I learned a lot from my own injury.”
“Was it bad?”
He paused near a weight bench and toed the edge of the mat. “Yes. All of it was bad from the actual tear all the way down to how much I hated myself for getting hurt. In a lot of ways I was just as angry as my dad.” He shrugged. “Maybe more. I didn’t get to have a career. Mine ended before it began.”
He walked the path we’d only imagined. “So you have therapists and trainers for the body and for the mind.”