FieldofPlay

by Frances Stockton

  As soon as she was able to move again, Dallas hefted himself up on his hands, giving him more strength to thrust from his hips. He thrust hard, deliberately making her feel every inch. Grace wrapped her legs around his ass, loving the way he pounded into her now. “Gracie…gonna come.”

  “Do it, McKay! I want you to.”

  “Oh, baby, hold on.” She held him tighter, unaware that she’d dug her fingers into his shoulders. He plunged into her one more time, tossed back his head, and roared so loudly Max growled. His cock jerked, cum jettisoned into the condom, feeling warm even through the ultra-thin condom. As he collapsed on top of her, his cock pulsed while an orgasm gripped her core, milking him until they were both spent.

  Grace wrapped her arms around him, and cried silently. Nothing had ever been more beautiful. As the first rays of dawn spilled into the room, she knew everything had changed, just as she’d worried about when they’d fallen asleep.

  Dallas didn’t withdraw after he came. He slid over on his side, taking her with him and holding her so close she could feel his heart pounding like he’d sprinted fifty yards for a touchdown. Just like hers. Slowly, their heartbeats evened out into a steady rhythm.

  “This was a game changer, Gracie,” he whispered. “That wasn’t sex.”

  “I know…that was making love.”

  “Still scared?” he asked, kissing her temple with the lightest touch of his lips.

  She was terrified, but she wouldn’t change a thing. “Yes, are you?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “Regrets?”

  “None, Dallas, thank you for the most beautiful night of my life.”

  He shifted some. “Same to you, baby. We’ll talk about what this means when we can move again.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she said.

  “No, no you’re not,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “Always remember, I take care of what’s mine.”

  Whether he knew what he’d said, Grace couldn’t say. He’d fallen asleep and she didn’t want to disturb him or dislodge his softened cock from inside her. She’d really like to keep it there forever.

  In less than twenty-four hours, she’d found love. She didn’t want to be hurt in the end, or worse, lose him. The best way she could avoid that was do her best to keep him.

  * * * * *

  Coffee! Dallas opened his eyes, inhaling the rich scent of fresh-brewed coffee.

  But he woke alone in his bed. “Gracie?” he called out, looking around to see that Max wasn’t in the room either.

  Another scent reached him, this one beginning to overpower the coffee. Bacon!

  With his dick ready for another marathon of sex and Grace downstairs, he growled in disappointment, along with his stomach. Checking the time, he was surprised to see it was almost ten o’clock.

  Damn, Grace had worn him out.

  Even though he’d had a game last night, a blind date and then the best night of his life, he felt guilty. Guilty because he’d fallen asleep on his sweet Grace, after they’d almost succumbed to unprotected sex. Common sense had taken over at the last minute, but he wasn’t sure how long they’d keep that up.

  The smell of bacon grew even stronger. Aware that they had to talk and half afraid the panic would set in that made him send most other women away, he got up and headed to the bathroom.

  In the shower, he recalled the way Grace looked when she had gone down on him. She’d been so sweet and earnest and pretty, and damn talented. She might not have had many lovers, but she’d learned that technique somewhere. He sure as hell hoped it wasn’t with Brant. The little fucker didn’t deserve Grace.

  Jealousy kicked him square in the gut, ruining his morning wood better than the cool water he was using. In a very short time, she’d become significant to him. As scared as he was that things would go to hell when they both came up for air, he was more anxious to get downstairs to his woman.

  Deliberately, he turned the water colder to rinse. He dried off, brushed his teeth and headed out to his bedroom to find something to wear.

  Bacon smelled stronger. Coffee lingered. Music was playing softly downstairs, sounding like it came from the kitchen. He could hear Grace singing.

  Dallas grinned. Grace could sing like a naughty little angel. Moving faster, he grabbed a pair of sweats, a condom and the first t-shirt he saw in his dresser.

  Before he pulled on the sweats, his flaccid cock returned to half-mast. He was out the door, slipping the shirt over his head and rushing down the hall when the song ended. Sporting a hard-on by the time he hit the stairs, he went to find Grace.

  He found her at the stove, watching her hips sway as she sang and danced.

  The bacon sizzled in a cast-iron skillet. She kept singing.

  Dallas leaned back against the doorway, enjoying the sight of Grace Daniels making breakfast. Max sat on his haunches watching while she whipped something up in a big blue mixing bowl.

  “Don’t even think about sneaking any bacon, Max,” she warned between lyrics. “I see you looking and it’s for your master upstairs. If I give you any and it makes you sick, guess who gets to clean that mess up? Since you’re as big as a horse, I don’t want to think about that, okay?”

  Max didn’t look away from the skillet. Dallas didn’t blame his dog. And fuck if Grace wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever seen wearing a pair of his boxers and the rock concert t-shirt his brother had given him.

  Dallas tracked her to the fridge, wrapped his arms around her and shushed her when she started. He sang into her ear, using his nose to move her hair out of his way. As soon as he found the right spot, he feasted on her vulnerable throat.

  Grace melted back against him. Dropping her spatula, she lifted her arms up to wrap around the back of his neck. “Good morning, Dallas.”

  “Morning, baby,” he returned, continuing to nip her skin. “How long until the bacon’s done?”

  “Depends on whether you like crispy or soft,” she replied, still holding onto him.

  He liked bacon crispy. “Hard is better,” he said, rubbing his erection against her curvy backside.

  “Hardness wasn’t part of the question.”

  “It is now,” he countered, catching her arms and bringing them down behind her back.

  Grace stiffened for a moment when she realized he had her wrists locked where he wanted them. He waited, making sure she wasn’t going to freak on him.

  She didn’t. Clever little thing arched her hips backward. “If you’re planning to use that big cock, make it good, McKay. You owe me.”

  “I owe you?” he questioned, keeping control of her arms and marching her across the room to the kitchen table. “What do you think I owe you?”

  “For spoiling my plan to surprise you with breakfast, a good fucking,” she answered, arching her graceful neck saucily.

  Dallas damn near came in his sweats. “Seems someone’s forgotten who’s in charge in the bedroom.”

  “Unless I’m not mistaken, this is the kitchen. And I’m cooking, which makes me in charge right now.”

  “Baby, in bed, the kitchen, the car or anywhere you can think of, I’m always in charge,” he corrected, carefully maneuvering her until she was bent across the kitchen table. It was big enough to have two place settings and her laptop and still have room for the two of them to fuck on it.

  Grace gasped once when he brought the palm of his hand down on her boxer-covered ass. “Hey! What the hell was that for?”

  He yanked the boxers down to her knees, trapping her where he wanted her. “That was for letting me wake up alone.” Seeing her stretched out like this was better than any aphrodisiac. She had the sweetest, luscious curves, a firm ass and long legs that he knew could wrap around him tight.

  “This,” he said in warning, tapping her left cheek a little bit harder, “this is for daring me.” He spanked her again, keeping his touch from stinging too much. He wasn’t going to hurt her, but fuck, the light pink color was pretty. “Because it’s what you want, isn’t it,
baby? You want to get a little rough in the morning?”

  “I want it, Dallas,” she admitted, submitting completely by relaxing across the table and presenting herself as best she could with her knees bound. “I want you more now than I did when you had me before dawn.”

  “Why is that, Gracie?” he demanded, smoothing his palm up and down her warm ass.

  “Because I don’t want it to have been a dream,” she said, arching her hips. “Please prove that it wasn’t.”

  Leaning down enough to kiss the pink flush he’d placed on her right ass cheek, he whispered an apology if he’d scared her. Fortunately, Grace hadn’t objected or showed any sign of distress.

  Standing tall, he let go of her arms. “Hold onto the table,” he said, placing his right hand on the small of her back and grinning wider when she stayed still.

  Quickly, he shoved his sweats down his legs and put on his condom. Moving in behind her, he ran his hand up her spine. “Nothing was a dream.”

  Continually amazed by her, Dallas bent over her, placing his hands over her wrists. “I love fucking you, Gracie.”

  “Please, do it,” she said, her voice stronger.

  Closing his eyes in relief, he angled his hips, his cock head finding her tight opening. Grace lifted herself with her legs, inviting him in.

  “Yeah, oh, yeah,” he uttered, sucking in a deep breath when he slid all the way in and her silken walls cushioned him tighter than a drum.

  Condoms usually made him less sensitive, especially around the head. But the way her vaginal walls gripped him, he could feel everything. He loved the feel of her silken muscles rippling all along his shaft and glans. Drawing back until he almost slid out, he halted, took a breath and plunged back into her tight, moist heat.

  “Ah, Dallas, please,” she muttered, thumping her fists on the table. “Fuck me.”

  Refusing to disappoint his lady, Dallas shifted his grip and begun pumping his hips. She liked when he fucked her hard. But her fair skin and generous curves were soft. He’d left small bite marks on her neck and fingerprints on her ass from where he’d gripped her at some point in the night. Trying to show he was sorry for the slightest bruise, he swiped his fingers over them, planning to make up for them by fucking her the way she wanted, hard, fast and a little raw.

  “I’ve left my marks all over you. I’m sorry, Gracie.”

  “I don’t care. I like them.”

  “I’m glad, baby. You feel so fucking good. You like taking my big cock deep?”

  “You know I do,” she muttered.

  “You want harder or faster?”

  “Both! I want to feel every inch, like you can’t get enough of my pussy.”

  “I can’t.” Having never been the kind of man to intentionally inflict harm, he did like that he could fuck Grace without holding back for fear that he’d break her. And he damn well wanted to stake his claim.

  As the music played on and bacon sizzled on the stove, Dallas plowed into Grace, fucking her without mercy. She whimpered little mews and yeses, grinding her pelvis into the wooden table. Realizing she was trying to get herself off, he drew back.

  “No, Gracie.” Bringing her up off the table, he managed to stay buried inside her tight sheath. He reached back, found the nearest chair and took a seat, taking Grace with him. She twitched her legs, causing the boxers to fall to the floor. “Spread your legs, baby, drape them over my knees.”

  He showed her how. Grace did as he wanted, exposing her pussy. She was strong enough to bounce up and down. Fuck, it felt so damn good when she did that. She had this clever way of shifting her hips when she took him deep, then she squeezed his cock with her creamy pussy whenever she sat still. He wanted to howl.

  With his right hand, he was able to play with her pretty quim. He teased her pubic hair, not pulling, but brushing through her triangle. Using two fingers, he found her swollen, pulsing clit and milked her little nub. Grace stopped bouncing, yet that didn’t stop him from grinding his hips up against her, forging his cock into her as far and hard as she could take.

  Unable to really move much now, he kept toying with her clit. He plucked and caressed her, milked and tapped her. Grace growled low in her throat. It was so fucking adorable, Dallas rested his face against her neck and bit her harder than he’d meant to.

  Grace’s pussy clenched and convulsed, wringing him hard. Cum raced from his balls to his cock head, erupting deep inside his woman, her sweet, little cries echoing about the kitchen. The force of it took his breath away. Fuck, he wanted his seed to fill her, not a condom.

  “I’m never going to walk right again,” she mumbled, slack in his arms.

  “That’s okay,” he said. “We can crawl back upstairs to bed and fuck the rest of the day through.”

  Grace laughed, her pussy still gripping him hard. “Uh-huh, and then I’ll get nothing done and your coach will get pissed at me for slowing down his wide receiver.”

  Dallas’ stomach growled. The smell of bacon was everywhere. “I guess I’d better let you get up if we’re going to make breakfast.”

  “We’re going to make breakfast?”

  “Yes, we are,” he said.

  “That’s spoiling my surprise again, McKay. I was going to come upstairs with a cup of coffee and wake you properly.”

  “You fucked me properly. That’s much better than coffee.”

  “Yes, it is,” she agreed, looking back at him and smiling.

  Grasping her tangled hair, he maneuvered her back and kissed her good morning. He didn’t let her up until Max pranced up to them. “I think he has to go out again,” she said. “I let him out when I came down an hour ago. Then I fed him.”

  “Okay,” Dallas said. “I’ll take care of Max. You handle the bacon before it’s nothing but charred meat.”

  Playfully, she wrinkled her nose. “We wouldn’t want that.”

  He kissed her once more before letting her up. Feeling protective of what was his, Dallas helped her re-dress in his boxers. She looked fine wearing his clothes. Ditching the condom and rearranging his sweats, he watched Grace return to the stove. She was looking at the skillet and didn’t notice the small dime-sized wet mark on her ass. Her cum had soaked through the boxers.

  Burying the need to tattoo that mark on her ass, he started walking away. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he grumbled under his breath. His pants were wet too.

  “Something wrong, McKay?” she asked, using a pair of tongs to push bacon around.

  “Everything’s fine.” He called to Max, who rushed after him, and let the dog out the back door.

  A good bit of snow had fallen during the night. Looked like six inches already and it was continuing to fall at a heavy clip. Maybe he would take Grace sledding. His property was blessed with some great hills. He’d never gone sledding or cared for snow much until he’d moved to play for the Griffins.

  He’d spent most of his life in Texas and would always be grateful to his mom and dad for adopting him when they did. They’d given him more love and acceptance than anyone had when he was younger. But they’d also reminded him of his Lakota heritage, giving him jewelry and books and rugs and paintings that were handmade from South Dakota. The golden eagle-feathered headdress he’d placed as a central focal point in his game room was authentic to the Lakota Nation that he may have descended from. His mom introduced him to Black Hills Gold jewelry, as well as beautiful silver and turquoise. Soon he’d like to teach Grace the language he remembered from early childhood. Sadly, he’d lost a good bit since moving to Texas, but he remembered key words and phrases.

  She was singing again in the kitchen. He smiled.

  “Hey, Dallas, do you have chocolate chips?” she called out from the kitchen.

  “There’s a bag in the baker’s cabinet next to the bread box, why?” he asked, looking out the door to see Max pounding up the stairs.

  “I’m making pancakes,” she said. “Chocolate chips would be awesome, don’t you think?”

  Salivating at t
he thought of eating melted chips off her, he let a snow-covered Max back in the house. He had to stand back when the big beast shook himself out, but gave his dog an ear scratch before heading to the kitchen.

  Chapter Seven

  Grace pushed her empty plate aside and grabbed her mug of coffee. She’d never been so full in her life. She’d been starving when she first woke up and Dallas hadn’t helped when he decided to get frisky in the kitchen.

  Not that she was complaining. She’d loved the way he’d come up behind her and overcame her short-lived show of rebellion. He was definitely the most commanding lover she’d ever had. Even when he was masterful, he showed tenderness, never once placing her in a position meant to degrade or hurt her. He lived up to his promise to help by flipping pancakes. Dallas McKay was a walking sex god with a domestic streak.

  “Any time you want to make pancakes and bacon, you are welcome to, Gracie,” Dallas said, picking up the last strip of bacon. “Don’t tell my mom. But those pancakes were better than hers.” He winked, making her blush.

  “Wow, that’s high praise. I’m honored to know you like my cooking, McKay.” She sipped her coffee, enjoying the rich taste. “I’m sure her pancakes are from scratch. Mine were from a box. All I had to do was add water and chocolate chips.”

  “Breakfast was great because you made it.” He grinned and nibbled on his strip of bacon.

  “Good to know. I’ll make burnt toast and runny eggs next time.”

  Dallas laughed, keeping his eyes on her as the last of his breakfast disappeared. “We might have to negotiate on the toast. I like my eggs scrambled or sunny-side up.”

  “How about breakfast burritos?”

  “That’ll do just fine,” he said. “Grace, it doesn’t matter what you cook. If you’re here, I’ll be happy.”

  Suddenly feeling shy, she dipped her head. “It’s certainly no hardship hanging out with you, Dallas McKay. Speaking of hanging out, do you mind if I clean up the dishes so I can get some clothes on? Then again, I’m not sure where my stuff is.”

  “I put your underwear, socks and jeans in the wash with some of my things.” He picked up his coffee. “I wasn’t sure about your sweater. It’s folded and sitting on top of the dryer.”