“I didn't know that.” Her lips close around her chopsticks, and I’m struck by how fucking beautiful she is with her sunshine blonde hair, pert nose, and lush lips.
My connection with Lucy is fairly sordid, and as I watch Bryant dig into the second dumpling she’s probably told herself she shouldn’t have, I don’t want to get into it. But the look on her face is so expectant, and I feel like I owe her for being such a dick earlier. “Her mom and my dad had an affair.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen and her mouth forms a surprised O.
“Yeah, oh.”
She grimaces. “I'm so sorry. No wonder you guys are so close.”
I stir the noodles on my plate for a second before answering. “Yeah, I guess we kind of leaned on each other. She's been my friend for a long time, and I really wasn't prepared to lose her. And to a football player, no less.” I shake my head. “She always said they weren’t her type. We had this pact. She wouldn’t date players, and I wouldn’t hit on her roommates.”
“Did you keep your end of the bargain?”
“Yeah.” I start eating.
“Lucy was the one who broke it,” Bryant muses. “I can see how you'd be mad at her.”
I put down my chopsticks. “Why’s that?” I ask it honestly, because I have been pissed off at Lucy for a while, but couldn’t pinpoint why. “She shouldn’t be punished for liking someone.”
“No, but I'm sure it felt like a betrayal. And since your connection was forged on someone else's betrayal, I can see how that would be troubling.”
I stare at her in astonishment. In a couple sentences, she summed up my discontent. Lucy and I had been friends for so long, but she took Iverson’s side over mine when he tried to convince me that giving up my starting role was perfectly acceptable. It still made me mad, but for my part, I shouldn’t have done what I did. It’s important, for some reason, that Bryant hears me taking responsibility for my shitty behavior. “It doesn’t make what I did right.”
“It doesn’t matter now. You apologized; she accepted. There’s no point in dwelling on the past or borrowing trouble as my gamma would say.”
“Is this where you bust out the Friday Night Lights slogan?”
“‘Clear eyes, full hearts,’” she quotes with a smile. “I suppose that could apply to all sorts of situations. But you weren’t trying to be an asshole.”
I start eating again. Between bites, I say, “I come by it naturally. My dad’s one.” When she doesn’t say anything, I joke, “No words of insight there for me on this topic?”
She turns her palm up. “No. I don't really know your daddy.”
“He's a jerk. Grade A, top-shelf, selfish douche. I take after him.”
“I doubt that very much,” she protests.
“I have it on good authority,” I tell her, pushing my plate aside.
“Whoever said that to you?”
I shrug. “My mom.”
Mom’s been telling me that I was a chip off the old man’s block for as long as I can remember. Half of the time she resents me and the other half, she clings too hard. I figure that's how she feels about Dad, too. If she has to vent in my ear from time-to-time, then that’s what I’m there for.
But I don’t want to dwell on this anymore. There are more interesting things at hand. Bryant came over for a specific reason, and it’s not boring stories about my past, basket weaving, or shooting the shit with my roommates.
We’re going to fuck.
“You almost done?” I nod toward her plate. “Because we’ve got some basket weaving to do.”
“Yeah, I shouldn’t eat any more.” Reluctantly, she pushes the plate away.
I gaze at the plate and then her face dubiously. “I think you should. You’re going to need the extra energy tonight.”
Her jaw drops open. “Ace, you can’t say things like that.”
I hook my foot around the base of her chair and pull her across the tile until her legs are snug against mine. Talking about sex with Bryant is a thousand times better than any other topic of conversation. “Actually, I can. I have this theory in life. When I’m sore, I ice myself. When I’m tired, I sleep. When I’m hungry, I eat.” I lean forward so my lips are an inch away from her ear. “And I’m real hungry, Bryant.”
11
Bryant
“Is it supposed to be in the shape of a bird?”
Ace tilts his head. “Is that what you see? Because I’m thinking it’s more of a boat shape.”
I giggle. Basket weaving isn’t as easy as we both thought it would be. After the first failed attempt, we ended up watching several YouTube videos but neither of us are getting the hang of it. Hence, his lopsided basket.
“Okay, time to take a break,” he announces. His green eyes smolder at me. “Let’s fuck.”
I don’t know whether to glare at him or moan in approval. I’m still not used to his sexual bluntness. Maybe it’s a northern thing? Down here, boys aren’t as frank, and if they do get racy, it’s usually tempered by their sugar-sweet drawls. Ace isn’t a southern boy, though. He’s raw and blatant and dangerous.
“Oh, sorry,” he mocks when he sees my expression. His lips twitch. “Let’s make love.”
I bristle. “Are you making fun of me, JR?”
His humor immediately fades. “Sorry,” he says again, and, this time, there’s a note of sincerity. “I’m just not used to censoring myself.”
“I don’t want you to censor yourself.” I sigh. “But I also don’t want to feel like I’m just a convenient body for you.”
“You’re not.”
“No?”
He arches a brow. “You’re my girlfriend, remember?”
A snort flies out. And despite myself, a tiny thrill shoots through me at that word—girlfriend. I know this isn’t going to be a real relationship. None of my projects are. But this is the first time my heart has done a flip at hearing that from a man.
“So, c’mon, girlfriend,” he says, smiling and patting his lap. “Your man wants to make love.”
My man. Oh Lord. My heart is flipping again. Stupid heart. Ace Anderson isn’t allowed to make me feel this way. My goal is to make him a better man, not to get all warm and gooey in the face of his dazzling smiles.
Yet, I’m helpless to disobey him. I slide across the bed and climb gingerly onto his lap. Unlike some of my AO sisters, I’m not a hundred-pound twig. I have a love-hate relationship with my curves, and I feel like I’m too heavy to be sitting on him this way. But Ace doesn’t seem to mind. One nice thing about his size is that he makes a girl like me feel dainty and delicate. He groans the moment my butt lands on his groin.
His nose rubs my cheek and then it’s buried in my neck, breathing me in. “You smell fucking fantastic,” he growls.
His lips latch onto the side of my throat. A sharp sting makes me yelp. Oh gosh, he’s biting me.
Chuckling, he eases back and meets my eyes. “You’re not into the rough stuff?”
I don’t answer, because I honestly don’t know whether I’m into the “rough stuff.” One boy and a few fumbled encounters aren’t enough to create actual preferences.
“I’m undecided,” I admit. “Do that again and let’s see what happens.”
But instead of going back to my neck, he does something else—he yanks my pale yellow top up to my collarbone, shoves the cups of my matching yellow lace demi-bra down, and takes one nipple into his mouth. He gives it a hard suck, a firm lick, and then his teeth gently dig into the rigid peak.
“Ohhhh,” I cry out. All right, that felt…good.
Ace laughs against my breast. He kisses his way to my other nipple and gives another love bite. I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders and arch toward him, desire pooling between my thighs. I love how solid he feels beneath me. His big hands bracket my waist as his lips and tongue and teeth tease my nipples. His hair tickles the bottom of my chin. And his erection is prominent, bulging inside his pants and pressing against my core. I start grinding over it, b
ecause it’s right there and I’m aching for it.
Ace groans loudly, releasing my breast with a wet sucking noise. “If you keep doing that, I won’t have patience for foreplay.”
“I don’t need foreplay.” I’m not even lying. My entire body is on fire. One spark and I’m going to explode, and I’d rather that happened when he was inside me. I’ve been craving him ever since the party, and I’ve just decided to accept that. Maybe my desire for Ace is stronger than I’ve ever felt before, but that doesn’t mean he’s special, right? It just means my libido is more demanding these days. It’s probably the moon and tides or something like that. Nothing to do with Ace. Nothing at all.
“Well, I do,” Ace informs me, and the next thing I know, I’m flat on my back and he’s hovering over me. “I need this very, very much.”
“This?”
“This.” He deftly tugs my jeans and panties off. “I need this—” He cups my bare sex, “under my tongue.”
I barely have time to blink before his face is buried between my legs. Oh, Lord. Shockwaves of pleasure rock into me when his tongue skillfully circles my clit. He takes it real slow, drawing out each lick, teasing me with soft, barely-there kisses. A sweat breaks out on my forehead and my hips start moving as if they have a mind of their own. I want more. I want his mouth and his fingers and his—
I wail when he lifts his head. “Don’t stop,” I beg.
The grin he gives me is filthy. “I thought you didn’t want foreplay.”
I grumble impatiently. “I said I didn’t need it, but now that you’re doing that, it’d be awfully rude of you to stop.”
Ace’s laughter heats my inner thigh. “I love how southern you are. Awfully rude,” he mimics, and his drawl is awfully terrible. “Don’t worry, Bryant. I’ll take care of you.”
And, oh gosh, he does. He dips his head again and wraps his lips around my clit, sucking hard enough to turn my field of vision into a sea of white dots. Heat builds low in my belly. Pleasure curls my toes and has my fingernails digging into the sheets, so tight that I actually break a nail. Lord, I’m going to need a manicure after this.
The orgasm starts deep in my core and then sweeps me away in a rush of pure bliss. It’s wonderful and perfect and I never want it to end. Eventually, the pleasure abates and I peek down to see Ace licking his lips.
“My turn,” he mutters.
I expect him to climb up the bed and guide his erection into my mouth, but instead he grabs a condom from the top drawer of the nightstand. He rolls the latex onto his long, erect shaft. His eyes glitter with need as they land on my sex. I’m still glistening from the orgasm and from the new rush of arousal that comes from seeing his lust-soaked expression.
With an athlete’s grace, he rolls onto his back and pulls me on top of him, positioning the broad head of his cock at my entrance. “Sink down,” he orders.
I bite my lip. Girl-on-top isn’t an appealing position to me. It makes my breasts jiggle and my thighs look rounder than they are. But Ace’s eyes are on fire. He wants me so bad, and his need drives all the insecurities out of my head. I want him to feel as good as he just made me feel. So I sink onto him, welcoming the way my body stretches to accommodate his size.
Ace’s eyes roll to the top of his head. “Jesus!”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” I instantly chide.
He chokes out a laugh and utters something under his breath that sounds like “gotta love the South” but before I can give him a teasing rebuke, he thrusts upwards and fills me completely and I can’t remember how to talk.
“You’re so tight, Bryant. Fuck, you feel like heaven.”
So does he. He’s long and thick and pulsing inside me, and the position allows him to rub my clit. He makes tiny little circles with his thumb, and I grind harder against him, taking all the pleasure he has to offer. My head starts to get foggy and my breaths come out in shallow pants. I can feel the pleasure building up again and it frightens me a little. I’ve never been ready to come again this fast. I don’t like this helpless feeling that Ace elicits inside me.
“Hey.” A strong hand grasps my chin. “You’re leaving me again.”
I swallow through my arid mouth. “I’m not,” I lie.
He doesn’t believe me, because he simply says, “You promised you wouldn’t hold back.”
He’s right. I did promise that. And truthfully, my apprehension doesn’t stand a chance against my overpowering desire for this man. My hips move faster, and approval lights his green eyes.
“There you go,” he encourages.
Breathless, I ride him until I can’t see straight anymore, until I can no longer support my own weight and fall against the solid wall of his chest. He takes over from there, wrapping his muscular arms around me and thrusting up in hard, deep strokes. His pubic bone presses against my clit with each stroke and then I’m soaring again, gasping and shuddering as a second orgasm rushes through me.
Ace kisses me at that moment, his tongue plunging into my mouth and his husky groan vibrating through me as he surrenders to his own release.
He gets up only to dispose of the condom, then returns to the bed and gathers me close to him. “Damn,” he says hoarsely. “That was amazing.”
“It really was,” I agree. My body is still tingling.
We fall silent for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling.
“Why do you do that?” he finally asks.
I frown against his shoulder. “Do what?”
“Try to fight from coming.”
Uncomfortable, I attempt to wiggle out of his arms, but he locks me in place by keeping one hand on my waist and the other draped across my front.
“It’s fine. You don’t have to tell me.”
His resigned tone makes me soften. “I…don’t like to feel vulnerable,” I admit.
“Does anybody?”
“I suppose you’re right. But…” I shrug. “You’re at your most vulnerable state when you’re making love. It makes me nervous.”
“Sex is supposed to be fun,” he counters. “It’s about making each other feel good.” His hand slides to my left breast and squeezes softly. I sigh in pleasure. “I make you feel good, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t overthink it,” he advises.
Easier said than done. I want to tell him that he makes me feel too good and that’s a problem for me, but even if I were brave enough to voice the confession, I don’t get a chance to say it, because Ace’s phone rings.
“Let me see who that is,” he says. “It could be a team thing.”
Reluctantly, I ease out of his arms so he can lean over the side of the bed to find his phone. He finally fishes it out of his pants and checks the screen. Almost instantly, his sated expression becomes cloudy.
“One sec. I need to take this.”
He doesn’t leave the room, but he does walk toward the desk as he answers the call. He keeps his back to me, providing me with a view of his sculpted back and tight buttocks. He isn’t at all shy with his nudity, whereas I’m discreetly reaching for the sheet to cover myself up.
“Hey,” he says gruffly into the phone. He pauses to listen, and I see a stiffness begin to form between his shoulder blades. “What for?” He pauses again. “You said you were short on cash and couldn’t make it.”
I wonder who he’s speaking to. His tone is getting chillier by the second and now his whole back is tense.
“Fine. Okay. I’ll call you later to figure out a time.”
He hangs up without saying goodbye, which I find a tad rude. No matter who was on the other end of the line, they still deserved a goodbye. But maybe that’s my southern manners talking. Momma and Daddy would disown me if I ever hung up the telephone on someone.
“Who was that?” I ask cautiously.
Ace’s eyes are shuttered. “My dad.”
“Oh.” I study his face. “Is everything all right?”
He responds with a grunt, which I don’t
know whether to take as a yes or no. I’m leaning toward no, because the thundercloud in his expression is now hanging over the bedroom and darkening the sex glow from before.
“What did he want?” I’m pushing, but I think with Ace, pushing is necessary.
“Wants to have drinks,” is the terse reply. “He’s coming to town for the game.”
“And you’re…not happy about this?”
This time, I don’t get an answer. “C’mon, let’s get dressed and tackle that basket again before you have to go,” he says without meeting my eyes.
I watch as he gathers his clothes and begins to dress. After a long, thoughtful moment, I slide out of bed and do the same. When he told me about his father’s affair and how his mother believes that Ace is a chip of his old man’s block, he spoke flippantly, as if he was unaffected by it all.
But it’s obvious that Ace’s issues run a lot deeper than he’s willing to admit.
12
Bryant
Him: U left your underwear here.
Me: OMG. I did not. Why would you say such a thing? If there’s a pair of girl’s panties in your drawers, they aren’t mine.
Him: Really? Because these are yellow like your bra which I had a nice up close personal view of. Plus they have a B stitched on the ass. Nice work, BTW. U do that yourself?
I squint at the picture. Damn, those are mine. I left in such a rush the other day that I forgot my panties? After we tried our hand at finishing his project, he hauled me back into the bedroom where he expended an excessive amount energy on my body in ways so inventive that I blush at the memory.
After the third round, I’d staggered home dazed and confused, but I could’ve sworn I jammed my unmentionables into my pocket before fleeing the scene. Granted, I had been distracted when he climbed out of bed and stretched, highlighting his perfect body.
Me: If you show those to anyone else, Ace, so help me God.
Him: Don’t worry. These are mine now.
Me: Why in the world did you wait until today to tell me?
It’s been nearly a week since that night. Due to his practice and my busy sorority schedule, along with planning things with Momma for a church event, Ace and I hadn’t gotten together again. But we did text and kiss a couple of times in a training room at the practice facility, which would’ve given him plenty of time to tell me about my panties!
Downed (Gridiron #3) Page 10