Gunslinger: A Sports Romance

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  “And how would a man who doesn’t do seconds know what a woman was watching on TV over the weekends?”

  “Food Duchess.” He says in an obvious effort to avoid that particular question. “I want to eat dinner before we go. Juliette made pot pies.”

  I grin because I know I won that verbal sparring.

  “All right I’ll be there in fifteen. Or maybe I won’t. Maybe skipping a meal will do wonders for my ass since you seem so concerned about the size of it.”

  “Missing just one meal isn’t going to do the trick cousin,” he laughs heartily.

  I really want to laugh too, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of thinking that he’s funny. So I do what any immature kid would do, and look for the closest thing I can find (one of my Ugg boots) and throw it as forcefully as I can at Roman’s beautiful buzzed-cut head. Not the most effective weapon since they’re made out of sheepskin, but it was better than nothing. I would have hit him square between the eyes if he hadn’t suddenly blocked it and batted it down like some sort of ninja. Of course he would have quick reflexes. Why wouldn’t he? He’s built just like a frackin’ UFC fighter.

  “You missed.” He sticks out his tongue at me like the four-year-old I’m learning he can be too.

  I roll my eyes at him, and then suddenly something in the air changes.

  Without warning Roman strolls inside my room, shuts my door, and sits on the edge of the bed next to me. It was easy to hold my own when he was standing in my doorway, but now that he’s literally two inches away from my semi-dressed body, I feel a bit less sure of myself.

  He gently touches a few strands of my hair, curls them around his fingers, and uses them to softly brush across his bottom lip. I’m staying stock still. It’s the second time that I am able to see his entire tattoo, but this time around, I study it. He’s so close to me, I can’t help it. It’s a beautiful tribal mosaic that swirls and curves around the length and width of his back and travels up the left side of his neck where it ends. You can tell that it was painstakingly designed and executed, and frankly it takes my breath away. That and the fact that he is touching me again.

  “What are you doing?” I ask nervously while I quickly sit up straighter and pull my massive head of hair out of his hands and into the neatest top-knot I can. That was a mistake though. When I lift up my arms, the movement raises my breasts up higher and directly in his line of vision. He gazes almost hungrily at my breasts then looks back to my face with a thirst in his eyes that makes me shiver.

  “Duchess–”

  “Yes?” I immediately respond.

  He stops as we both look across at ourselves in the mirror above my dresser. Both of us very still as a moment of silence passes between us. I can no longer hold his stare and am looking away from him when he suddenly pulls my knotted hair free.

  “I like your hair down.”

  My panties are sopping wet now.

  He wraps his hand around the base of my throat and uses his thumb to slowly stroke my bottom lip.

  Back and forth until my lips part.

  He pushes his thumb inside my mouth, and I foolishly shut my eyes and then close my lips around it and suck. I didn’t mean to, it was just a natural reaction to the fire he is stoking inside of my body.

  “Lie down Duchess.” He says closely by my ear.

  He picks up my laptop and places it gently on my nightstand. His hand begins to slowly drag down my neck and to my chest where he begins to rub one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. All his movements are painstakingly slow, fluid and careful. He knows a woman’s body, and I can tell that he is trying to study mine.

  When he moves to the left nipple, the sensation I feel multiplies tenfold because that breast has always been more sensitive than the other. Now my hips start to rise up like they have a mind of their own. Moving. Flexing. Begging for Roman to relieve me of the ache that is snowballing between my legs.

  He rolls and tugs, rolls and tugs, until he hears a slight gasp from me. Then his hand continues on its downward path. And I realize immediately that this is the moment right here. The moment where I have a decision to make. If I allow him to slide his hand inside my panties where I know he’s headed, there will be no coming back from that.

  Think Elizabeth. This is your cousin.

  But I say nothing and I allow his hand to slide right in. It’s like a waterslide down there, which seems to emphatically delight him by the self-satisfied grin spread across his face.

  “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

  “Masterson–” I protest unconvincingly.

  “This is what’s going to happen Duchess,” he cuts me off. “You’re going to spread your legs, come for me twice, and then we’re going to eat a pot pie and head out to the club. You feel me?”

  Before I can open my mouth to say another word his mouth captures mine in a mind blowing, frantic kiss while he simultaneously slides one of his thick fingers between my folds and then inside me. It feels so tremendously good that I want to smack somebody. I’ve never been touched like this before. He’s playing my body like an instrument, and I’m not sure what kinds of animalistic sounds are coming out of my mouth, but they’re in total response to the pure ecstasy I am feeling right now.

  “Spread wider.” He commands. So I do.

  He uses his thumb next to rub back and forth over my clit while still pumping both of his thick fingers in and out of my pussy and the next thing I know, I see a million frackin’ stars burst into a pure blinding white light, and I let out a shriek that all the neighborhood dogs can probably hear on the next block.

  “Shhh,” he chuckles with his lips against my mouth. “I still owe you another one.”

  I’m tingly and flushed, and frankly I don’t think I can take another Masterson orgasm. Not quietly anyway.

  “Wait–” I beg quietly.

  Why I thought he would listen is beyond me.

  He flips me over in one quick motion (which is damn impressive considering the size of my child bearing hips), smacks me on the right ass cheek, and then starts ordering me around again.

  “All fours baby.”

  There’s something about being on all fours in front of a man that makes me feel extremely vulnerable. Maybe it’s because I can’t see his eyes and know what he’s thinking (as if I really could know for sure). Or maybe it’s because I can’t imagine what the view is like from back there. Needless to say I’ve never done it, and I don’t know why the hell I’m propping myself up right now.

  “I’ve never–”

  “Shhh,” he quiets me. “I’m just going to lick that pussy clean, but you have to be a good girl and keep still and quiet for me ok?”

  Oh. My. God.

  If he keeps talking to me like that, I’m going to come right the frack now. He won’t have to even touch me again.

  “Can you do that?” He asks again.

  I nod my head.

  Then he slaps my ass again. Harder.

  “Oww!”

  “Can. You. Do. That?” He asks again with a growl.

  “Yes.”

  “Good girl. All fours. Knees wider.”

  I don’t know if I can do this…

  “Wider. Don’t hide from me.”

  I spread my knees wider and inhale a deep breath. Praying that Juliette doesn’t walk in on this clusterfuck.

  Suddenly all I feel is warmth. The warm strokes of Roman’s tongue stroking my clit up and down, and back and forth with precision and care. He’s not as urgent as before. This time he’s taking his time and it’s making the climb all that more torturous. I’m tense yet turned on at the same time. I feel super exposed in a way that I’ve never been before, but it feels amazing.

  “That’s a sweet pussy.” He mutters in between licks. “This time I want you to try and hold off coming Duchess.”

  “What?” Is he kidding me?

  “I want you to wait until I give you permission.”

  My legs start quivering as I
feel the tension swirling inside of me getting ready to burst. My breaths start to become shallow as I’m pretty sure I’m about to come.

  Then he stops.

  He blows a few warm breaths in between my legs, kisses me on my inner thigh, and starts talking again. But I don’t want him to talk. I want him to continue on with what the hell he was doing, before I have to pin his ass down and sit right on top of his face.

  “We have a situation.” He announces, but I have zero idea what he’s talking about.

  “A situation?”

  “Yes.”

  He’s right. We do have a situation. A very bad one. This is my chance to stop this before it goes any further. I am acting like a total whore right now. I’m getting eaten out by my frackin’ cousin while my aunt prepares pot pies downstairs! Am I the one on drugs?

  I try to turn myself over, because the first order of business would be to get my ass out of Roman’s face, but he uses his brute strength to hold me in place and he takes another smack at my ass. This time it’s a little closer to my pussy, and I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment while I wait for the feeling of utter ecstasy to pass.

  “Masterson we can’t.” I say breathlessly.

  “I know.” I hear the gruff regret in his voice.

  Then his mouth returns in between my legs and he takes a long, deep pull of my clit with his lips while shoving both of his fingers back inside me and I explode.

  My hands fist the sheets of my bed and my entire body convulses as I use every ounce of strength in me to not scream bloody murder. It was the most excruciatingly, powerful orgasm I’ve ever had. By my hand or another’s. So good that I had to catch myself when I felt a tear form in the corner of my eyes. Having to keep silent during my orgasm probably made it that much more raw and overwhelming.

  He growls as he turns me back over. “I asked you to wait.”

  “I couldn’t!” I protest while panting out of breath.

  “You’ll do better next time.” He says.

  And that’s when I realize that the palm reader was right. If I’m not careful, this man is going to utterly consume me.

  ***

  Me: I need you to meet me somewhere in like an hour.

  Sloan: Where?

  Me: The Lotus.

  Sloan: I thought it was closed.

  Me: It’s open again and Roman is the manager.

  Sloan: I don’t believe it. I’m stunned shitless.

  Me: I’ll explain later. I need you to come because I don’t want to go:(

  Sloan: So why are you going?

  Me: Call it family pressure.

  Sloan: I’ll be more than happy to get that particular family obligation completely off your back:)

  I told Sloan the minute I found out that Roman was my cousin, which she found totally tragic and hilarious in the same breath. Tragic for me that I’d never get to know him in a “biblical” way. Hilarious because of the stories she’d get to tell their grandchildren about how they met.

  What I haven’t revealed to Sloan is how my attraction towards Roman has grown by leaps and bounds since we first met that night at The Lotus. Every interaction between us pulls me in deeper, especially the one we just had. And there’s no way in hell that I’m going to tell Sloan that I damn near cried after my cousin gave me the best damn orgasm of my life.

  That’s just something a girl needs to keep to herself.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ELIZABETH

  CLUB LOTUS HAS CHANGED significantly in the last few weeks. The intricate details which made the club beautiful are even more noticeable now that the club has been cleaned from top to bottom. I love the curves and swirls of the crown molding in the club. It makes me imagine a time in history when visiting the bank was obviously a luxurious experience. Something only reserved for the wealthiest of Philadelphia society. Nothing like the cold, sterile banks we use today.

  Then there are the contemporary touches that make The Lotus just as beautiful. The modern crystal chandeliers which hang like sparkling pendulums from the twenty foot high ceilings are a happy marriage of old world meets twenty first century. They have been polished to a clear sparkle, and the exotic mahogany wood bars have been buffed to a spit shine. A simplistic, pared down stage has been built by the south wall, and I notice how even the lighting is softer on the dance floor now. No more eye squinting strobe lighting. There doesn’t seem to be that same homogeneous group of middle class corporate types dancing their cares away either; ordering bottles like they’re planning on getting good and wasted on the finest liquor money can buy, because they hate their bosses. Instead I notice that there is a more eclectic group of people, sitting, talking, drinking and having a good time, and I swear that I can recognize several faces chatting at a table near the DJ booth. I’m just not sure from where.

  After taking a good look at my new and improved surroundings, I notice that there is a new elevated seating area at the top of a large curved staircase which features a large, oblong wooden coffee table and several plush chairs surrounding it. These are definitely new and they’re all colored blood red. It’s from that area that an attractive petite woman with shredded jeans and a tight graphic tee on whistles down to Roman through her teeth to get his attention. Roman responds with a nonchalant head nod to her and the two men she’s sitting with. Then he starts moving in their direction.

  He doesn’t say much to me, in fact he’s only grunted a few words to me since we left home, and his silence makes me feel simultaneously embarrassed and ashamed of what’s happened between us. I suppose he regrets what’s occurred as much as I do which would explain the whole I’m not saying shit to you Elizabeth thing. Maybe this is how he treats all the women that he’s been intimate with. Which would pretty much explain why that pretty bank manager threw water in my face today.

  Now I’m looking to see if Sloan has made it here yet, because I don’t know if she’ll see me seated in this section. It’s pretty dimly lit, and I don’t want to be stuck by myself with Roman and his friends all night. I’m sick of him being all hot and cold. He was in a bad mood when he came to my room tonight, then he expertly got me off twice, and now he’s moody again. Unfortunately eating Juliette’s scrumptious chicken pot pie and giving me two orgasms didn’t solve his bad-ass mood. Like I said, I’m assuming that his crappy disposition has something to do with the regret that he feels about what we did earlier. I feel the same way, but you don’t see me taking it out on him. The jackass.

  When we arrive to our seats, I’m struck by how attractive the two men are that are waiting for us. They look very much alike, so I assume they must be related, and they’re both staring at me like they already know exactly what I’m wearing underneath my clothes. The woman extends her hand and speaks to me first.

  “Hi, I’m Jade. This is Cutter and Camden. You must be the new cousin.”

  Interesting that he’s mentioned me, but I don’t know one single thing about them.

  “That’s me. It’s nice to meet you all. I’m Elizabeth.”

  Roman sits down next to Jade and across from me. Maybe that’s why he’s so on edge all of a sudden. Maybe she’s his girlfriend or at least another one of his friends with benefits. The guy named Camden is watching me carefully, and I blush because he’s making me a bit uncomfortable on top of the fact that he’s so good looking.

  “Would you like a drink?” Camden asks while he waves down a waitress.

  “She’ll have a glass of merlot.” Roman interjects abruptly.

  Jade takes a hesitant glance at Roman and then another back to me.

  “You like wine?” She asks surprised.

  “Yeah, I can’t really stomach the hard stuff. Thank you Camden, but actually I’ll have a glass of cabernet.”

  Roman rolls his eyes.

  “Well that’s too bad because we do shots.” The other hot guy named Cutter smiles brightly and says. “And we do ‘em all night.”

  “I’ll pass.” I chuckle.

  “She’ll ha
ve one.” Roman says and this time I give him a hard look. What the hell is he doing?

  He shrugs his shoulders with indifference. “You need to relax a little cousin.”

  I want to kick him. “I can speak for myself thank you very much.”

  He mutters something under his breath only loud enough for him to hear.

  “So what do you do Elizabeth?” Jade asks after giving Roman another long look. I think she wants to smack him too.

  Please do.

  “I’m an app developer. I went to Penn for computer science.” I almost laugh at how I made myself sound ridiculously way more impressive than I really am. I need to take a course in small talk.

  “Damn!” Cutter says. “Smart and you look like that. You ever think about the benefits of marrying young? I’m a fantastic lover.” He flirts. I smile back. I can see already that there’s something a bit endearing about this guy.

  Roman starts to tap the heel of his foot nervously when Jade places the palm of her hand firmly on his knee to calm it. She definitely must be a friend with benefits. I don’t know why I’m so surprised, although he didn’t mention anything about a Jade until we were well on our way over here. I wonder if she knows that Roman rarely talks about her, that he has some crazy-ass bank manager stalking his ass, and that he just ate me out an hour ago. I wonder what would happen if I told her all of that interesting information. Of course I’m too chicken shit to ever do that.

  Sloan: I’m here. Where are you?

  Me: At the top of the staircase

  Sloan: Is the father of my future kids there?

  Me: Whatever and yes. But I think he has a date

  Sloan: I brought some reinforcements with me

  Me: Who?

  Sloan: Carla, Tiny. Jagger

  Me: OMG!

  Sloan: Thank me later bitch.

  “A couple of my friends are on there way up here. I hope that’s okay.” I say excitedly.

  I make sure to stand by the banister and wave my hand so Sloan can see me.

  “What friends?” Roman asks suspiciously.

  “Sloan and a few friends from school.”

  “Oh right … the glamazon.”

  “What does that mean?” Cutter asks with interest.