“Are you okay?” I reach up to pull him down for a kiss. His cock presses into my thigh as he leans down over me. His hand comes up behind my head, and his fingers knot gently into my hair.
“I’m better now,” he tells me, but his voice is darker than normal, more ragged and tired.
Taking him in my hands, pushing his own hand away, I stroke him. I get lost in that soft skin, the way the veins bulge, the smoothness of the head. His hand slides up my thigh, and his fingers touch my opening. When he touches my wetness, he groans. As his finger curves along my clit, I support myself against the bed.
“Vibrator,” he orders. “Right now.”
I roll and reach under the bed skirt, looping my finger over the extension cord to pull it out. As I do, he slaps my ass once, and then again, in the very same place. It feels raw, sharp, and hot. The outline of his handprint takes shape in the sting.
“God,” I gasp, and he flips me onto my back, climbing on top of me and pinning my hands up above my head. He goes right into me, no permission asked, no foreplay, just pushes into me strong and aggressive. Like I belong to him.
It’s as if he’s not even here with me at first. His eyes are closed and then so are mine for three insane drives that make me roar into the pillows. In one smooth movement, he flips me so that I’m sitting up on top of him and he’s flat on his back on the mattress.
“Turn it on,” he says, after getting me settled on him, after I stop panting and gasping and whimpering as I open all the way up. “Come for me. But don’t stop at one.”
I take the Hitachi and switch it on, the head whirring an inch from my clit. “How many?”
Another drive into me, deeper again. “How many can you give me?”
I watch him in the half-darkness. “I don’t know.”
“I want three to start.” He moves his hands up my breasts and giving me a little pinch on both nipples, he then guides the Hitachi to my clit.
As soon as it hits me, I’m moaning. “And I’m going to stay inside you the whole fucking time. I’ll fuck you straight through three orgasms and back again. How does that sound?”
“It sounds…”
Well I don’t really know how it sounds, suddenly. The vibrator is working its magic on me, and I’m melting and throbbing, while he drives into me again and again.
“You have no fucking idea how badly I need to see you come right now,” he says, just as I’m starting to tip over the edge. “How badly I need you to give yourself to me.”
“Yeah?”
“Since the minute you left, I’ve needed it. Since the last time I was inside you,” he says, thrusting into me, gripping me by the hips. “I’ve been thinking about it.”
“Oh God…” I feel the contractions begin, the waves of pleasure making me grip him hard.
“Go. Let me feel you.” He steadies me with his palm on my chest, between my breasts, and I let my weight go down, and forward.
“Can I come?” I pant.
“Fuck yes, you can.”
It happens just like that, with me on my knees. It is huge and loud, and even as I’m coming, I hear him laughing a little, that warm, beautiful laugh. “Hell, yes. More. Keep going.”
He sits up then, making me slide down toward his lap. I keep the vibrator to my clit, not pushing hard—because I’m so sensitive—but staying on the spot gently, letting my lips be a buffer of a kind.
“Orgasms are just like waves,” he whispers. “Just let it go. Just let them come.”
Again, he drives into me, sending me spiraling with the precision touch of my G-spot. I focus hard on giving him what he’s asking for, a second orgasm, So soon after the first.
“Come on this cock, beautiful. Do it. Fucking do it, right now,” he says, with an edge of darkness in his voice. “Remember when you gave in to me on the chair? Do it again. Because you’re all mine. All fucking mine.” He grips my shoulders from behind, pulling me down even further onto him. “You know you can play shy. You know you can tell me to step back, but I can’t. And I won’t. And I never will. Because you’re all fucking mine and that’s how it is.”
All fucking mine.
I close my eyes. I think about his cock inside me. That throbbing, unbelievably big, gorgeous…
“Oh fuck, Jimmy….”
“Told you,” he says, speeding up the pace.
“Coming,” I tell him softly as everything starts to flicker and tremble. “I’m coming.”
In one easy movement, he forces me back onto the bed with his palm to my sternum. As I hit the mattress and my head tips down toward the floor, the orgasm widens out somehow, amplified by the depth and the angle and the force, the bed-shaking, furniture-rattling force of him taking what he wants.
What’s his.
Me.
I scream his name. I let loose growls and groans that I didn’t even know I had in me.
“That’s right. Let the whole fucking building know that Jimmy Falconi is inside you.”
Oh God.
But as I come down off two, tears spill down my cheeks. Like it wasn’t just a simple orgasm, but something from way down inside me. Hearing him talking like that—throwing caution to the wind, just laying it all out there for me—it dismantles me. “I get so emotional with you,” I tell him, moving the vibrator from my clit. One of his big hands sweeps aside my tears and I kiss his palm. “It isn’t just sex.”
“Fuck no, it’s not. Not with us,” he says. “You feel it too?”
“Yes. I feel it.” My words are barely audible, even to me. But he can hear me, I can tell. “And it scares me to death.”
“Don’t be scared.” His voice is rough and confident. “I have been waiting so fucking long to meet someone who makes me feel exactly like I do with you. Like I’m safe, and loved, and needed. And like I’m not so alone after all.”
“You’re not…”
“Neither are you. Because I will protect you, and I will look after you, and I will give you everything you need. Knowing I was going to be with you was the only thing that was good about today. You. Just you. You get that?”
“You know I do.”
“I think I’m going to have to show you. What I want. From you. Right now. In my heart, what I want is you…”
Our eyes meet. He rams into me and snarls, “With my baby inside you.”
“Oh shit,” I gasp. The pure human need for it makes so much sense; I can’t even answer him.
“If we were just wolves in the wilderness, you know what I’d be trying to do all the fucking time?”
He rams into me more deeply, and I groan out an, “I do.”
Because I really and truly do. The things he does to my brain aren’t rational. The things he does to my body are almost automatic. Right now, we aren’t logical. We are pheromones and need and desire.
“I’d be trying to mount you every fucking chance I got, Mary Monahan. That is what you do to me. That is what is going on in my head.”
It is exactly what I need to hear. It is the fantasy I had buried, the thing that was ridiculous and inconvenient and insane. Until now.
“Tell me you want it.”
“I do. I want it. I need it.”
“Good girl.”
I do want it. I feel ripped open and scared and astonished. I feel utterly, completely free.
“Do you trust me?” he says as he drives into me yet again, but this time not so aggressively. More carefully. Tenderly.
“Yes.” I don’t even need to think about it.
And it’s then that his fingers tighten around my neck.
It makes me panic a little, but not much. Because I do trust him. And I want everything he has.
“I’m going to cut off your air, just a little,” he says, close to my ear. “So you can give me a third.”
“The way you talk makes me insane, Jimmy.” My voice is strained and breathy.
“Good. That’s what I want to hear.” He tightens his grip.
I feel my pulse behind my eye
s. He doesn’t look away from me, but is serious and focused. “I don’t want to let go of you ever, Mary.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Will you come on the road with me?” he asks, low and guttural.
I swallow hard. “You don’t need me.”
“The fuck I don’t.” His grip tightens even more. “I need you more than you can possibly understand. I need you with me. I want you with me. By my fucking side, in my bed, in my life. On the road. The plane. Not just to fuck. Not just to get dirty. But I need you to let me love you. I need you to let me unleash on you. I can’t be polite about it much longer.”
Right then, with all this heat between us, and his huge hand around my throat, I can feel it all change. It stops being polite, if it ever was. Everything shifts. With my eyes looking into his, I feel it. He is serious. I am serious. This is serious.
The most serious thing I’ve ever been a part of in my life.
“Come again,” he says, bearing down a little more. The heel of his palm presses into my sternum
“Let me love you. Don’t make me wait.”
That is when it happens.
The hardest, most outrageous, most fantastic orgasm of my entire life. I am screaming his name at the top of my lungs, and he is growling, “Give me everything you are.”
35
Jimmy
Saturday morning on the team plane, and I don’t see her anywhere. I spent all day yesterday patching up my money situation. And I’m far from broke, but I am thirty thousand lighter, and this much closer to beating the living shit out of my brother.
I learned that what happened was this: After I won on Sunday, he went way into the red with his bookies. Then he went on a bender and managed to get into my accounts—it’s damned easy when you know someone’s social security number, their birthday, their mom’s maiden name, and everything else there is to know about them. But for now, it’s okay. Kind of. In the fucked up logic of being Michael’s brother, when he’s flush with cash, he’s happy and Annie’s safe.
But there’s no question that it’s time to get attorneys involved, and cops. I didn’t do it yesterday because when the shit hits the fan for Annie, I need to be there to help. And I can’t do that from Denver, that much is definitely true. What I did do, though, was manage to convince him to let her go stay with Valdez’s folks for the weekend so that he could go to Horseshoe Hammond and spend all my cash, which he still hasn’t admitted to having. But I said, “Just let her spend the weekend with Mr. and Mrs. Valdez. And then you can do as much blow as you want. Hookers, even. I don’t give a shit. Just leave Annie out of it.”
So at least that much is off my mind. Thank God.
I scan the rows, past the offensive linemen in what would be first class, and past the defenders in business. I head into coach and scan the aisles for her. It isn’t all guys, but mostly. I see one of the photographers in the back, her shock of blonde hair in a tight spike on her head. One of the team doctors is in the rear of the plane, reading as usual, and adjusting her glasses. But no Mary.
Fuck. I don’t know what got into me in bed with her, but I was absolutely out of my mind. After the shit I said to her, I’m sure she’s totally fucking spooked.
But I just couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t stop myself.
I watch the clock. Tick-tock-tick-tock. All the guys get settled, and Radovic comes on with his freebie briefcase from Dicks Sporting Goods and his Bears warm-ups gathering up in his crotch like wads of grocery bags.
“How you feeling?” he asks, looking at my crotch.
“Fine, Coach. Lots better.”
He leans forward, pressing his lips together, staring at my shoulder. “Mmmm.”
“I’m totally good,” I say, trying to be completely uninterested in whoever is coming through the door. “Groin’s never felt better.”
A few seats away, Valdez cackles.
My heart is pounding in my chest. I don’t know how many chances she’s going to give me to act like a gentleman. I might have blown it. But then, I spot her.
And holy fuck.
She is so fucking beautiful today. She’s always pretty, but today she’s dressed up in this sexy brown turtleneck that matches her hair. Black leggings, brown boots. As soon as she steps on the plane, the whole fucking place goes silent. Dead-ass silent. Like she’s the Princess of Wales, entering the ball.
My eyes meet hers, and I glance at an empty row of seats in front of me. As she moves toward me, guys say hello and give her the eye.
No, you fucking wolves. No. She’s mine. She’s all. Fucking. Mine.
I try to shake it off, that feeling of possessiveness. It’s not going away. At all. If anything, the closer she gets, the worse it gets. And when one of the tight ends gives her the up-and-down and a silent whistle to her ass, I grip the sides of my seat so hard the plastic squeaks.
She puts her suitcase in the overhead compartment, stretching out and getting up on her tiptoes to do it. That ass, that body, and fuck, she smells so good. I manage, somehow, to remember to pull my head out of my ass and grab her suitcase for her, shoving it into the overhead compartment.
“Hi,” I say.
She smiles at me. “Hi.”
She gets settled in front of me, her dark hair threading through the gap between the seats. I sit down too, and lean forward, pretending to be busy with my carry on. She puts down the armrest and turns her head to face me. But she can’t really turn all the way, so I’ve got a perfect angle on her pretty profile.
Those. Lips.
One of the team trainers glances over at us, and I lean back. Time for Plan B. Time for some secret code shit, because she is a Bears employee, and I said I’d protect her. So that’s what I’m going to do. But fuck, it’s tempting. Too tempting.
From the back of my seat pocket, I take the in-flight magazine. This is a chartered plane, not our plane, so it’s stocked with regular stuff like a regular Southwest flight. I flip to the back of the magazine and open up the crossword.
1 Down: MILE
2 Across: HIGH
7 Down: CLUB?
“Pretty decent puzzle in this one, Miss Monahan,” I say, “if you’d like to take a look.”
Her profile appears, the soft skin of her cheek close enough to touch. “The what…?”
“Page 85,” I say, and slip the magazine through the gap next to her.
I hear the pages flip, flip, flip, and then I’m almost sure I hear her laugh a little. She reaches over and grabs a pen from her purse.
Game.
On.
The flight attendants close the door and everybody buckles up, which is a very serious logistical operation since about 80% of the guys on this plane need seatbelt extenders. But we always travel with the same crew, and they’re on it, strolling through the aisles with a bag full of the things. I can just make mine fit, barely, if I cram my ass backward and suck in my stomach. But a pretty flight attendant, who I used to kind of dig, gives me one anyway, saying, “I wouldn’t want your lap to get pinched, Mr. Falconi.”
Suddenly, a furious green eye appears in the gap between the seats. I see it in my periphery, which is pretty decent; they don’t call me the Falcon for nothing.
“I’m good, Cindi.”
“Mmmmkay.” She pops her gum. “Just tell me if you need anything…Jimmy.”
That green eye widens as Cindi goes on to the next aisle. Mary’s nostrils flare. And I literally cannot help myself. I lean forward again, and say under my breath, “You don’t like that, do you, pussycat?” Then she snaps her head away.
Just after we’re airborne, and they’ve dimmed the cabin lights, the crossword comes back to me.
3 Across: ANIMAL
Hell yes, all for her. Just for her.
So I write:
11 Down: I MISSED
9 Across: YOU
When I pass it back to her, she drops her head back against the headrest and lets it rest there for a second.
4 down: I MISSED
13 across: YOU TOO.
But in the margin, she’s written, Even though it was only one day!
God, what a cutie.
When we level out at ten-thousand feet, Brenner, the guy who wants my job, stands up and comes to her row. He’s got that look in his eye—every guy knows it, the slow I want that stare.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Brenner says, leaning over her seat.
“Hello, Mr. Brenner,” Mary answers.
I feel this fire in my gut. I grind my teeth and stare at him. He pays no attention to me whatsoever.
“You having a good flight?”
“Yes. Thanks,” Mary answers. I see her smile, from the side, and I feel all sorts of anger. Not at her, but at him. Because I want those smiles to be for me, just for me. All for me. Only for me.
I dig my nails into my palms. I try to swallow my completely irrational jealousy. She’s just making conversation, but Brenner is trying to make a play. The guy is 24, cocky as shit, and right now, dangerously close to getting kicked in the nuts. If he makes a move…
I envision him flat on the Southwest carpet with his head jammed under one seat.
They make conversation about Colorado and altitude and blah, blah, blah. Until finally Mary says, “I’m sorry to cut this short, Mr. Brenner, but I need to go to the bathroom.”
His eyes light up. “Yeah? Need any help?”
I growl. “Sit down, you douche.”
But fortunately, it’s swallowed up by the airplane noise. Not exactly conduct becoming of a team captain. Mary heard it, though, and her pretty hand slides through the gap. She slowly extends one finger to say, Wait.
“I’m good.” She scoots from her seat and slips past him. He steps aside and gives her the old up-and-down again. “Oh, here’s your magazine, Mr. Falconi.” She hands it back to me.
Brenner, obviously suffering from impending blue balls now, and thank God for that, wanders back to his seat, and I flip open the magazine. There, at 13 across.
Holy fuck.
FOLLOW ME.
36
Mary
Hail Mary Page 21