Ain't Happenin' (The Ballsy Boy Series Book 2)

by Shandi Boyes

  Blood surges to my cock when she drags my jersey over her head, exposing her luscious tits to my more-than-avid eyes. Compliments to a surgeon’s knife or not, her breasts are divine. When her hands shoot to the zipper in her skirt, my desperation to have her reaches fever pitch. I lunge for her, producing a squeaky moan to ripple between her lips.

  Although stunned by my aggression, she mimics the movement of my lips and tongue. We kiss, suck, and nip at each other until I have her crowded against the wall separating the master bedroom from the attached bathroom and my pants huddled around my ankles.

  “Look at me, amore mio.”

  The anger turning my heart black is doused in an instant when her eyes collide with mine. There’s more in her eyes than just lust, she’s just too petrified to fully expose it.

  I hate pushing her, so instead, I switch the focus back to our undeniable connection. “Are you ready for me?” There’s a need in my voice, a desperate craving no one but Skylar can fill.

  When she nods, I line up my cock with the entrance of her pussy. Instead of making her beg as I usually do, I slowly notch inside her hot, wet center one painstaking inch at a time. She trembles around me, her eyes exposing how badly she wants to scream, but she’s keeping quiet for the sake of my family.

  The knowledge my family is already in her thoughts has me slowing the rock of my hips even more. I make sweet, passionate love to her, all the while never losing eye contact. I watch her face, her gorgeous bello eyes, and the sweat beading on her temples with every pump I do. We fuck in silence, the simplicity of our exchange not weakening its intensity in the slightest. I know she’s enjoying this as much as me. She’s slick around me, damp and hot, clenching as if she’s moments from climax.

  When several long minutes pass without any signs of her climax arriving, I ask, “Do you want to come, amore mio?”

  Skylar nods without pause for thought, her pussy tightening around me.

  “Then what are you waiting for? Come for me, amore mio.”

  Sweat rolls down her flushed cheeks when she shakes her head. “I don’t want to come until you do.”

  My eyes dance between hers, seeking answers to the questions her reply bombarded me with. When I fail to find what I’m after, I ask, “Why?”

  The gleam in her eyes strangles my senses as well as her pussy when she mutters, “Because this isn’t about me. This is about getting you past the haunted look in your eyes when you stormed away from your family, so you’ll tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing’s wrong…” I stop, unable to lie to her while she’s peering at me as she is. She’s open and exposed, making me exhibit the exact same qualities. “My nonna said I look at you like my father looks at my mother.” Stupid ass nerves grown men shouldn’t have hit me when I murmur, “They think I’m falling in love with you.”

  Her breathing shallows as her eyes bounce between mine. I’m anticipating for her to run, so you can imagine my surprise when she huskily asks, “Are you?”

  I want to tell her yes. I want to tell her I fell in love with her from the moment my eyes landed on her, but my industry taught me not to expose my hand until my opponents already have their cards on the table.

  “I don’t know. Am I?”

  Skylar’s smile—kill me. I’m a slain man who’s convinced my family’s assumptions are on the money. I am a love-sick fool.

  “How am I to know, Shortie J? I’ve never met your father, so I have no clue what his in-love face looks like.”

  And just like that, the tension in my shoulders lifts. She could have panicked and fled. She could have reminded me of the terms of our agreement. Instead, she made light of the situation as only she can. It wasn’t bitchy nor snarky. It was just straight-up honest.

  After adjusting the span of my thighs, which opens Skylar wider for me, I ask, “Amore mio?”

  “Yes, Shortie J.”

  I rock in and out of her three times really slow, loving the breathlessness of her reply. Even with us going at a much slower pace than we usually do, the excitement gripping my sack is almost painful. “Can I make love to you?”

  We share the same air when she brings her lips within an inch of mine. “Aren’t you already?”

  She’s right. I am, but that isn’t what I meant. I meant eight weeks from now on a Tuesday when it’s raining, and I’ve left work early because they canceled training.

  But can I tell her that? Can I tell her my family’s analysis of our relationship is more honest than dishonest? That I developed feelings for her even after signing a legally binding contract saying I wouldn’t. I knew I was lying when I signed our agreement, but with my desperateness higher than Skylar’s ability to read my lies, I ran with it.

  Was it wrong of me to do? Yes, it was. However, I didn’t lie when I said men from my country leave no whim unanswered while searching for requited love that’s full of passionate and satisfying exchanges.

  I’ve been fascinated with Skylar since the day my eyes landed on her, my already manic obsession doubling with each minute we spend together. It’s rare for an obsession to blossom into love, but that’s what has occurred here. Can it survive outside of the fake world we’ve created? I don’t know, but I do know one thing, I’m not leaving this country without her.

  I’d announce my plans right now if chaos weren’t dancing in her eyes. She’s watching me intently as if capable of hearing my thoughts. I doubt that’s true, but just in case, I’ll use touch to steer her focus elsewhere while also increasing her dependency on me.

  Once she’s in so deep she can’t breathe without me first entering her thoughts, I’ll tell her about the little white lies I told to make her mine. And then, and only then, I’ll admit what my family already knows.

  I’ve fallen in love with her.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Skylar

  The tenderness Lorenzo displayed last night after admitting his family thinks he’s falling for me should have me running for the hills. I should be freaking the fuck out that we’re leaped far over the line we drew in the sand three months. I should not be snuggling into his chest to count the beats of his heart, wondering how many skips are compliments to me.

  I knew this would happen. This is the exact reason short men were on my hell-to-the-no list. If you date vertically-challenged men, you run the risk of falling in love with a vertically-challenged man. But, instead of listening to my irrational-thinking head, I throw caution to the wind and look where it got me—giddy at the thought Lorenzo may be in love with me. It’s not even a certified yes.

  Although he didn’t directly confirm his family’s thoughts last night, his body most certainly did. Last night’s three-hour marathon has me wondering if we should change the term ‘fuck-buddies’ to ‘make-love buddies’ or better yet ‘you’re-lying-to-yourselves buddies.’

  Ugh! Why does this shit have to happen to me?

  I wholeheartedly agree with the saying on Cecily’s obituary notice. ‘Life is today, yesterday is done, and for all we know, tomorrow may never come,’ but they failed to mention what happens when you fall for your complete opposite.

  Don’t get me wrong, Lorenzo’s life melds seamlessly into mine. I’m studying to become a sports journalist, he’s a sports star. I’m cool, calm, and collected, he’s grumpy and reserved. He fucks like a god, and I’m more than happy to be fucked by a god. We couldn’t be more suited if we tried. There’s just one factor my lust-fried heart didn’t consider until now.

  Lorenzo lives in Milan, and I’ve never left the United States.

  I was born and raised in Paxton. I love American football with every fiber of my being, and my family even more than that. I can’t leave them, and Lorenzo has no plans to reside anywhere but in his beloved country as well. He said that very thing at the start of our arrangement. My agreement was temporary because his flight home was already booked.

  He’s not here for a long time, just a good time, which can only mean one thing.

  We’re
destined to fail.

  That sucks.

  It sucks really bad.

  Suddenly desiring the shoulder of my best friend, I slip out of the bed Lorenzo made sweet love to me in last night. Once I’m dressed, and my hair no longer resembles a ratted mess, I tiptoe out of his room. Considering how late everyone went to bed, Lorenzo’s family shouldn’t be awake. Unfortunately, they are, and they’ve spotted my retreat before I can slip out of the suite unnoticed.

  “Skylar, good morning, will you join us for breakfast?” Although Gaia is asking a question, she ushers me into the kitchen Alessia and Lorenzo’s Nonna are manning as if she didn’t. “We’re having café lattes and fette biscottate. It’s a cookie and bread in one. Very delicious.” Her accent curls my lips. It’s as thick as Lorenzo’s was when we met almost five months ago.

  After Gaia guides me to one of the highbacked chairs circling a small bench brimming with pastries, Lorenzo’s Nonna jingles a mug in the air, offering me a cup of coffee.

  “Sì, per favore.”

  She clutches her chest, appreciative of my attempt to speak her native language. My annunciation is horrendous, but I’ve picked up a handful of useful phrases the past three months. Pleas and common courtesies are easy for me since Lorenzo makes me beg almost every time we fuck. I’d hate him for it if I didn’t love being at his complete mercy.

  With a smile as mischievous as the gleam in her eyes, Gaia places down a super milky cup of coffee and a rusk-looking bread in front of me. The coffee is delicious, and it does wonders for my swirling stomach as does the biscottate when it sits heavily in my gut.

  “Good? Sì?”

  I cover my mouth with my hand to save the bench being coated with crumbs from the flakey biscuit before replying, “It’s delicious. Grazie.”

  For the next several minutes, I sit across from key members of Lorenzo’s family, yet not once do I feel out of place. It should feel odd considering they busted Lorenzo bending me over a couch where children were sleeping, but it doesn’t. Perhaps it’s because they know I’m only a temporary inclusion in Lorenzo’s life, so they’re being polite to save face?

  Or perhaps they’re genuinely nice people who credit you for the smirk that hasn’t left Lorenzo’s face the past three months?

  Ignoring the voice in my head that forever sides with Lorenzo, I devote my attention back to his family. “Are you visiting the US for long?”

  Gaia’s cheeks hue as her hand darts out to tap mine. “Don’t worry, we’re only here for the weekend. Although, from what I heard last night, I don’t see that stopping Lorenzo and you from fawning over each other.”

  When I gasp in a shocked breath, the biscottate lodges halfway down my throat. I spray the countertop with soggy biscuit crumbs as I endeavor to stop it from having a meeting with my lungs.

  “Mamma, look what you did. You have the poor girl choking.” Alessia hands me a glass of water before patting my back. Her efforts to the dislodge the stuck biscuit works, but I almost choke again when she says, “She was snoring so loud, she didn’t hear a thing.” Her wink tells me she wasn’t as lucky as her mother. “She’s merely assuming she knows Lorenzo well enough to comprehend who he took his frustration out on last night.” She places the glass down then locks her glistening eyes with mine. “But your red cheeks aren’t helping your campaign.” She laughs when they bloom even more. “They’re as telling as Lorenzo’s eyes.”

  Mortified by the blushing idiot I’m portraying, and fighting not to drill her on what she sees in Lorenzo’s eyes, I try to shift the focus off me. “If you don’t have prior arrangements, I can give you a list of must-see sights to visit while you’re in town. It should keep you entertained for at least an hour or two.”

  I stop inwardly laughing at my witty comment when Gaia says, “I’d rather you show them to us. If you have the time?”

  “O-or I could do that, too.” Why am I stuttering? This is Lorenzo’s family. People you won’t hear from again four weeks from Sunday. This isn’t stuttering material. “I’ll need to check my schedule first.”

  “Well, go on then.” Gaia nudges her head to Lorenzo’s door I left partially cracked open, her smile both warm and vicious. “We’ll wait for you here.”

  My eyes bounce between three sets of big brown eyes peering at me in hope. “You want me to check my schedule now?” When their heads bob in sync, I slip off the breakfast stool. “Okay. Ah… I’ll be back in a minute?” Don’t ask me why my confirmation sounded like a question. I’m merely relaying to you the facts as they’re presented to me.

  When Gaia nods for the second time, also hearing my reply as a question, I abscond to Lorenzo’s room like I wasn’t fleeing it only twenty minutes ago. My racing pulse could have me hearing things, but I’m reasonably sure Alessia mumbles, “If you’re aiming to scare her away, Mamma, you’re doing a remarkable job.”

  I miss what Gaia replies. Not just because she speaks in Italian, but because I’ve spotted Lorenzo in the middle of his room, getting dressed. He’s gone all out with a fitted black suit, polished leather dress shoes, and cufflinks. His hair is wet, exposing he recently showered, and he smells a scrumptious mix of cologne and me. He looks so delicious, I’m hungry even with my stomach bulging at the seams from the biscottate I gobbled down like a piggy.

  When Lorenzo spots me lingering at the side of his room, his head drops in a totally adorable way before his lips curl. His smile—sound the smoke alarms, I’m about to combust.

  “Good morning, amore mio.” He paces my way, sending my pulse scuttling to a much damper region of my body. “When I woke alone, I thought I had scared you.” Goosebumps race to the surface of my skin when he presses his lips to my temple. “I’m glad to have discovered you’re as strong as I believed.”

  “Nothing scares me, Shortie J.” Except you and stupid feelings I shouldn’t have.

  “Good.” He raises my chin to kiss me gently on the mouth. It isn’t a sole-stealing kiss, but it certainly has my mind blank of thoughts.

  I discover the reason for his seemingly demeanor approach when he murmurs, “Enough to get me through the day without breaking the zipper in my pants. My tailor will shoot me if I send him another pair to fix.” His brow cocks as he flashes his shy smirk. “I’d also rather not scare my niece into sainthood until she’s closer to the age of admittance.”

  His reply makes me smile. It also reminds me why I’m hiding out in his room. “Talking about families… yours would like me to take them on a tour of the city.” My knees curve inward when his shy smirk switches to cocky. “Why are you smiling? This…” I gesture my hand between us, “… may have started out as a tourist-guide thingamabob, but bringing outsiders into our agreement was never part of the deal. If I recall correctly, you said you don’t share. Family is sharing. Perhaps not sexually, but no matter what, it still extends past the line we drew in the sand all those months ago—”

  “Skylar?”

  I take in a much-needed breath before mumbling, “Yeah.”

  “One, breathe.” After another big breath, he adds, “Two, I excused your tardiness to my match last week on the negotiation your ass was mine this entire long weekend.” I attempt to tell him I only agreed with his demand because I thought we’d spend the weekend holed up naked in his suite, but he continues talking, foiling my endeavor, “And three, it’s not that big a deal. It’s an outing with my family. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  He can say that because he isn’t the one on the verge of whispering words I’ve never spoken to a man not related to me by blood. I went into our agreement blindly, believing I had nothing to lose but a sexual rut I would have given anything to surpass. I failed to factor my heart into the equation. It was stupid of me to do considering how hard I’ve been on it the past four years. I didn’t even allow it to palpitate faster when Justin Bieber took his shirt off during a concert because he’s below my minimum six-foot height requirement.

  “Shortie—”

  “No.�
�

  “But—”

  “No, amore mio. We’re not negotiating this. You’re spending the weekend with my family and me… end of discussion.” His bossy demeanor should annoy the shit out of me, but for some stupid reason, it makes me stupidly excited.

  Not that I’ll ever tell him that.

  “You suck big hairy dog’s balls.”

  After stomping my feet like a child, I trudge to the bathroom, grumbling about how the next time his butt is anywhere near my face, I’m going to give him a prostate exam. He laughs, assuming I’m joking.

  I’m not. The instant I’m out of the shower, I’m ordering a pair of the stainless-steel duck clamps every woman hates. If I’m going to examine his prostate, I’m going to do it well.

  I have no idea why I was panicked about spending the weekend with Lorenzo’s family. I’ve had a fantastic two days. Gaia is a wonderfully mischievous woman who dotes on her children and grandchildren as all mothers should. Alessia is a hoot who should never in a trillion years return to her husband, and Lorenzo’s Nonna—who refuses to tell me her real name, so I’m forced to call her Nonna—is the cherry on top of every delicious treat. She doesn’t speak a word of English, but that hasn’t stopped me adoring the shit out of her. She’s the bad-ass grandmother every family craves.

  I’m seriously going to tear-up when I hug her goodbye tomorrow. She made me promise I’d visit her soon. Since I didn’t have the heart to tell her I don’t have a passport, I crossed my fingers behind my back before saying I’d try my best.

  This is pretentious of me to say, but I’m reasonably sure Nonna wasn’t the only one delighted by my reply. Lorenzo looked pretty stoked as well.

  Seeing him interact with his family—swoon. Those feelings I mentioned at the start of the three-day-long weekend have tripled after witnessing how protective he is of Giovanni and Gia. His head barely reaches my dad’s nipples, but there’s no doubt he will be a great father. His father may not have set the best standards, but his mother sure did pick up the slack.