She blinked rapidly.
He held his breath.
Her head wobbled.
Was it a yes? No... her head moved in a circle. Was that a no? He cocked his head to the side, trying to decipher her non-answer.
He picked up her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. “This is where you’re supposed to shout, “Yes, Coach Morehouse.”
She smiled. “Yes, Coach Morehouse.” It was a whisper, not a shout, but it was good enough for him. He stood up and tugged her to stand.
He had booked a room at the resort for the night and he couldn’t wait to get Brandy naked. And it wasn’t just for the sex. He wanted to show her what she meant to him, how much he needed her in his life.
“Are you ready to go?” Brandy looked surprised as she pulled her purse onto her shoulder.
“Yes.” He stood up and offered his hand. “I can’t wait another minute to be with you.”
Her blue eyes darkened. “It’s going to be a long drive home,” she said in her husky sex voice.
“We’re not leaving.” He pulled the resort keycard from his pocket and flashed it at her.
Her eyes widened, lips curving into a sultry smile. “I like the way you think, Coach.”
Somehow, he made it into the elevator without pawing her, but the moment the doors closed, he had her up against the wall, hands filled with her curves as he nibbled the length of the side of her neck.
Her gasp made his cock go rock hard, her vanilla scent made him want to devour her. He couldn’t wait to worship between her legs.
The doors slid open and he swung her, giggling, up into his arms and carried her down the hall. She took the key card and opened the door with it, and he stepped across the threshold.
“This means you’re mine now,” he said.
“Oh really?” A touch of feminist disbelief rang in her voice.
He chuckled. “That’s right. I’m laying claim to you. I’ve carried you over the threshold, that means I get to keep you.” He tossed her on the bed, and yanked off her cowgirl boots.
“Is that some kind of pirate law or something?”
“Coach’s law. You haven’t heard of it? I was in possession of the female when I crossed the threshold to a bedroom. That means I get to keep her.”
She snorted, but helped him by peeling off her panties.
He crawled over her, shoving her skirt up to her waist and shimmying it off her shoulders and head.
Her blue lacy bra matched her panties and the thigh-highs. His brain galloped off wondering how many more sexy ensembles she owned and crashed when he wondered who else had seen them.
Mine. Some Neanderthal part of his brain beat its chest. He needed her to be his and only his. Forever.
He’d make Brandy Love ache for him until she agreed to those terms. He gripped her thighs and parted them.
Oh, holy mother of God. He drank in the sight of Brandy’s beautiful pussy. The neatly trimmed landing strip of hair, the rest shaven bare. Her lips were plump and dew glistened at the slit.
His breath grew short, cock throbbed. “You have a porn pussy, Brandy Love.” His voice sounded strangled.
She laughed her husky laugh, a blush tinging her cheeks. He loved it when she blushed.
He pushed her knees back toward her shoulders and licked along the seam of her pussy, parting her lips with his tongue and tracing all the delicate parts.
She gasped, rolling her hips up to meet him. He sucked a lip.
“Rick! Oh God…” She grasped his head, threading her fingers into his hair.
He heard the urgency already ringing in her voice. The same driving need burned in him but, he planned to take his time tonight. To bring her right up to the edge and leave her there until she begged for it.
He flicked his tongue over her clit, then returned to teasing her lips, licking and sucking at a leisurely place, even though his thighs tensed and his hands shook with lust.
“Rick... oh please. It’s too much... too much. You’re driving me mad.”
He lifted his head to look at his beautiful woman splayed out on the bed, her pale blonde hair fanned out and glowing against the bedspread. She arched, thrusting her satin and lace-encased breasts toward the ceiling.
He brought his thumb to her clit and drew a slow circle around it.
“Yes,” she choked.
He settled back to his haunches and resumed his tongue torture, flicking and sucking at her labia, making his tongue stiff and penetrating her with it.
“Inside me,” she panted. “Please. I need you inside me.”
His cock jerked, and he groaned. She was killing him.
“This pussy,” he said, screwing two fingers inside her, “Is mine. Only mine.” He stroked her inner wall and she screamed, writhing beneath his fingers. He pumped them in and out. “No more elicit booty-calls, no more Saturday night workouts at the gym. I need more of you. All of you.”
“God, Rick!” She came, her internal muscles squeezing his fingers, clamping down as she thrust her hips up to meet him.
He pumped his fingers in and out three times and thrust them deep, keeping them there until her climax finished. After easing them out, he climbed over her. “Did you hear me? I want you exclusively. You and everything that comes with you. The whole package—kids, business, a car that needs repairs, even if you’re too stubborn to let me help. Whatever you got, I want to be a part of it.”
She stared up at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“I know this is fast. I know I did a 180. But yesterday my world turned on its head, and even though I pushed you away, you were still a rock, right there with me. And in the end, when I was down there on that field, I had it in my mind that I had to live up to your expectations. Because you must’ve said some pretty nice things for your friend to write that article about me.”
Her face had gone soft, her gaze loving. She reached up to touch his face. “Yeah, I guess I feel the same. I was pushing this thing away, but as soon as I thought it was lost, my world fell apart too.”
He crushed his lips to hers, covering her body with his own, drinking in her soft warmth. Her arms twined around his neck and she kissed him back with a fervor he hadn’t felt from her before. He rocked the bulge of his clothed cock into her moist heat, groaning into her mouth.
She slid her hands down his sides and fumbled with the button on his slacks.
He took charge, pushing himself off her to quickly strip and don a condom.
Heat blazed in her eyes as she watched him crawl back over her. He nibbled her ear and neck, then rolled her over to her belly and lifted her hips, so she came up to her knees, her chest still resting on the bed.
He stroked his palm down the long, graceful arch of her back.
She wiggled her hips in a beautiful invitation.
Unable to resist one second longer, he impaled her with his cock. The shout from his lips filled the room as he sank into her tight, wet heat. She squeezed his length with her internal muscles, her body control outstanding.
He couldn’t wait—couldn’t go slow or be gentle. He thrust into her hard, gripping her hips to hold her steady. “Brandy…” he groaned. It was his form of an apology. He teetered on the edge of control.
“Yes,” she wailed.
“Yes?”
His vision had tunneled. He wanted to slow down, to make sure she climaxed again, but his hips thrust of their own accord, punishing her with his need, his burning desire.
“Yes.” Her throaty gasp sent him over the edge. He fucked her even harder, blood rushing from his brain straight to his cock. His balls tensed.
He reached around the front of her hips and rubbed her clit at the same moment he shoved in so deep he pushed her off her knees and onto her belly.
She bowed up, legs lifting behind them, taut and shaking, a hoarse scream coming from her mouth.
He thought he’d never stop coming. Stars danced before his eyes as he shot his load, filling the condom, already wishing for their futur
e, when they might have sex without one.
He collapsed on top of her, rolling them both to the side to keep from crushing her with his weight. His arm curved around her flat belly and he stroked it lightly, then wandered lower, between her legs to tap her clit once more.
She spasmed again, a tiny ripple of after-orgasm shuddering through her. “Wow,” she murmured.
“Sorry, I couldn’t hold back. Was I too rough?”
“You were amazing.” Her voice had a dreamy quality.
He nuzzled his face into her silky hair.
“So you’re really okay with my kids?”
“I want to be in your life. I also want to protect your kids from getting hurt, but I’ve come to the conclusion that there are no guarantees in life. I can’t promise things will work out, but I sure want to give it a try.”
“I have parents, too,” she said, a testing quality.
He chuckled. “I can do other people’s parents, just not my dad.”
“My dad had a stroke two years ago. He’s a huge fan of yours. I’d love for him to meet you.”
“Yes. He’s going to meet me. I’m the man you’re dating, remember?” It was his winning coach stubbornness rearing its head, pushing her when he probably should let her breathe. He needed to seal this deal, right here, right now. He wanted this game—the one that felt more important than any championship he’d ever coached or played—in the bag.
Brandy rolled over to face him. “You’re really serious about this? About a relationship?”
He brushed a strand of her moonbeam hair out of her face. “Dead serious.”
Her lips curved into a teasing grin. “Serious enough to meet my parents?”
“I would be honored.”
“Do you think your dad would like to come to the Fostering Christmas party tomorrow night?”
“My dad?” He tried not to choke. Thinking of his dad taking any part in his life still made his brain stutter to a stop.
“Sure. Why not invite him? He may not feel up to it, but at least you’re opening a door. And it’s a low-risk way to see him. He’s not going to fight the kids for time with Santa.”
For the first time the constriction in his chest that was always there when he thought about his father eased slightly. Brandy would know how to manage him. They’d figure things out.
Together.
Chapter Fourteen
Brandy watched Meg bustle around, adjusting food trays and napkins on the linen-covered tables against the wall. Both her kids and Meg’s helped out, following Meg’s flurry of directions for setup.
Gleaming silver carafes of hot apple cider and hot cocoa stood on one end, beside the eggnog chilling in an ice bucket. Trays upon trays of kid-friendly finger foods, ranging from savory to sweet lined the rest of the table.
Meg had done a bang-up job getting the Fostering Christmas party thrown together with almost no time to plan. They’d set up in Studio A, one of her largest rooms and Meg had put up a cheerful Christmas tree, trimmed in all edibles so the kids could take the treats off and eat them. Candy canes and red and green popcorn balls hung from the branches. Under the tree were the piles of small stocking-style gifts, all wrapped and separated into bins according to age and gender.
Rick was back in the men’s locker room, putting on his Santa suit. He would bring in two large sacks full of wrapped gifts with the foster children’s names on them.
The press, sponsors and large donors would be here any minute, then the foster families would arrive.
Meg hurried over, her black heels clicking on the hardwood floor. “How does everything look?”
“Amazing. Really. I’m so glad you took on this project. I would’ve just thrown out some cookies and punch and been done with it.”
Angelina and Juliet came in together, all dressed festively. Angelina wore a large camera around her neck.
“You came,” Meg bustled over to them like the perfect hostess. It was nice to have someone else sharing the responsibility for a change.
“We wouldn’t miss it for the world. You’re first big event,” Juliet said. “And I’m here to cover it for Houston Magazine,” Angelina said.
“Oh,” Meg fumbled with her purse. “I had cards made, do you want to see?”
“Ooh, yes.”
“Meg’s Parties & More,” she chirped, handing them each a floral print card.
“What’s the and more?” Juliet asked.
Meg shrugged. “Ah don’t know,” her southern accent made her sound ditzier than she was. Or else she played that card as a learned habit. They all knew she was anything but. The poor woman had been a genius with no one to appreciate her talents except her growing kids and often absent husband. “It leaves it open for possibility,” she winked, her smile slightly naughty.
Brandy loved seeing her all lit up like this.
“You two stand together, I definitely need a photo of Houston’s most successful female entrepreneurs.” Angelina shooed them together and snapped several pictures.
A television camera and crew moved in from the local Channel Four news. “This is a perfect human interest story for the holiday,” the reporter said when Brandy thanked them for coming. “We’ll just get set up in the back, here.”
“Perfect, thank you.”
The Child and Family Center social worker poked her head in. “The foster families should be here in about 45 minutes.”
Brandy looked at her watch, surprised. “I thought they were coming at 6:00?”
The social worker’s brow furrowed. “I told them all 6:30. I’m sorry—I might have screwed that up.”
“No problem. I’d better go tell Santa he can relax, then.” She smiled and excused herself, letting Meg know the change in schedule before heading down to give Rick the news. The poor guy had been holed up in the men’s locker room for 30 minutes already.
With a light tap on the locker room door, she pushed it open.
Rick had his hat and beard off, and his boyish grin swindled her breath. “Ready for me?” He’d already made his voice sound jolly.
She giggled. “There’s been a slight delay, Santa. The kids won’t be here for 45 more minutes.”
He rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Really?”
“I’m sorry, can I bring you a book or a magazine?”
His eyelids lowered. “You could stay back here and entertain me. This is sort of... our place.”
She snorted. “The men’s locker room is not our place!”
He laughed. “What? Not romantic enough?” He made a show of looking around the room. “I don’t know, I find it pretty seductive.”
She ought to be out there helping Meg get things in order. But then, that’s why she’d hired Meg, wasn’t it? To handle the event for her?
Rick must have sensed her resolve crumbling because he smirked and put on the mustache-beard combo and the Santa-hat, and sauntered toward her. He crushed her against the closed door, kissing her. “Have you been a good girl, Brandy?”
She bit her lip and shook her head, slowly, making her eyes wide like an ingénue. “No, Santa. I’ve been very naughty.”
His green eyes twinkled. “Mmm,” he rumbled and kissed her again. “Santa likes naughty girls.”
“He does?” she giggled again. “Do you have the wrong script?”
He grinned. “Only because he gets to spank them,” he whispered.
She looked at her watch. “We do have a little time... ”
Rick’s eyes darkened. He reached behind her to turn the lock on the door, then claimed her hand and tugged her away from the door. “Come on, little girl, let’s go check my list to see what you’re getting for Christmas.”
She found herself bent over the countertop, her lustful reflection staring back at her as Santa slid the hem of her dress up over her waist.
He peeled her panties down and ran his large, calloused palm over her sensitized skin. “Mmm, yes, this is a naughty little ass.”
She shivered, anticipation shooting through
her, her pussy growing moist. “Santa, is this what you always do to naughty girls?”
“Only the most deserving.” He brought his palm down on one of her cheeks.
Would they hear out there in the studio? Surely not, but the thrill of knowing all the press, donors and family were right there while she was getting naughty with Santa only amplified her desire. She bit her lip.
He rubbed away the sting before leaving a handprint on the other side.
Her pussy clenched. “Rick…”
He slapped her harder, twice. “That’s Santa to you, young lady.”
She giggled. “Oops, I meant Santa.”
He brushed a finger across her wet folds. “Yes?”
She gasped as he flicked her clit. “I-I think you’d better get on with it. Not to rush you or anything, but I probably can’t be gone too long.” He breached her entrance with one finger.
He made a tsking sound. “Can’t make time for Santa, huh? Well, all right, but I’m not sure how well Santa can drill you with this big stuffed belly in the way.”
She met his laughing eyes in the mirror and broke down into a fit of giggles.
He lifted the stuffed belly up and shoved it to the side. “What? This isn’t sexy to you?” He fumbled with a condom before shoving his pants down.
“Santa, you’re always sexy to me... ung, yes,” she groaned as Rick pushed into her. She hardly needed foreplay with him, the mere sight of him had her panties damp and her pussy raring to go. The big stuffed belly bopped on her hip as he eased in and out, holding her gaze in the mirror.
“Santa…,” she panted.
He chuckled and picked up his speed. “Hush, naughty girl. And no screaming this time, we don’t want to disturb the children.”
She pushed her hips back at him, laughing. With her hands braced against the countertop, she held firm for his in strokes, squeezed his cock with her internal muscles. Thank God for Kegels, they made sex so much better…
Rick bent his knees, changing the angle of his thrusts and she came unglued.
Pressing her lips together to keep her scream in, she made a strangled sound.
Scoring With Santa: Book One in the Second Chance Series Page 16