Played

by Natasha Stories

  I would have stayed there, savoring the false sense of security, but my need for the toilet became more urgent. I slid out from under Justin's leg as I lifted his arm slightly to loosen his grip on me. He murmured in his sleep and turned over. Planning to slip into the bed on the side he'd abandoned, I took care of my business and returned, only to find Justin sprawled across the bed in such a way that there wasn't room for me on either side. I was going to have to rearrange him somehow, hopefully without waking him.

  That proved to be impossible. I pushed from behind on the side I'd started on, only to have him turn over toward me and land on his back with his arms flung out to both sides. Then I went to the other side of the bed and tried to move the arm that encroached on the space where I'd have room to lie if he'd move it. He pulled it in toward his chest, but as soon as my weight hit the bed and before I could arrange myself comfortably, he flopped back over, flinging his other arm across my chest. Now I was flat on my back, though I preferred sleeping on my side. Worse, his hand had found my breast and curled around it. I lifted it off me, but he just moved to my waist and gathered me in.

  "Justin," I whispered. "Let me go."

  A snore answered me. There was nothing to do but try to sleep the way we were. That is, with me snuggled into his chest and with one of his arms holding me firmly to him. I thought I'd never go back to sleep. This was a new experience, and though it wasn't entirely unpleasant, it was enough to keep me from drifting off. I must have at some point, though, because when I woke again, his hand was exploring my backside, the shirt pulled up.

  "Justin," I gasped. "Wake up."

  "What makes you think I'm not awake?" he asked.

  "What are you doing?"

  "What does it feel like I'm doing? I've got a rather delectable ass cheek in my hand, and I'm enjoying it."

  Puzzled by his confident tone, I struggled to wake up fully. Maybe I was dreaming. No, as I assessed my position, I became aware that he was enjoying it more than his matter-of-fact statement had indicated. A long ridge of hard flesh pressed into my abdomen where it met his, one of his legs holding me in place. Instant heat pooled between my legs, and a low moan escaped me.

  Justin's hand pushed the shirt up further and moved to cup my breast. "You're such a sweet treat in the morning," he murmured. Languor prevented me from stopping him. Truthfully, I didn't want him to stop. His warm hand on my breast sent delicious sensations through me. Yet, I tried.

  "Justin, I said no sex."

  "No you didn't, you said you wouldn't go home with me. We're not at my house."

  Before I could argue that the difference was specious, he covered my mouth with his and thrust his tongue in, at the same time pumping his erection into me even more firmly. The kiss was breathtaking, erotic, his breath tasting of last night's wine overlaid with the minty toothpaste we'd bought. His hand continued to explore my body, now cupping my breast, now pinching my nipple and sending bolts of desire straight to my core. When he broke it off, I was dizzy and wanted more.

  Justin pulled away from my body only long enough to throw the covers back and strip the shirt off me, leaving me naked to his gaze. Morning sun streaked through a small opening in the drapes and brightened the room, making me shyly try to cover myself.

  "Stop that. Keep your hands away from your breasts and your sex. I want to look at you," his rough command. For some reason, I obeyed, helpless to deny what was about to happen, wanting it as badly as I had the first time, in spite of my vow to swear off sex. Justin dropped his head to my breast and lapped his tongue around an erect nipple, drawing it into his mouth and sucking.

  "Ah," I breathed. It was all he needed to press his advantage. The wandering hand parted my legs and stroked along the cleft, finding me wet and ready. His finger dipped into me, and then pulled out, spreading moisture up and onto my pulsing clit. He switched to the other breast while stroking me for a few minutes, until I was writhing and calling out his name. Suddenly, he was gone. Bereft, I opened my eyes to look for him, finding him standing beside the bed, removing his briefs to let his erection spring free.

  My eyes seized upon it, followed quickly by my hand. He laughed as he tumbled back into the bed.

  "I thought you didn't want sex," he teased.

  "Shut up and fuck me," I ground out.

  "Oh, no, not yet. I want to make this good. Ever tried sixty-nine?"

  "No, I don't think so, what's that?" I could speak only in short gasps, as his fingers had once again found my pleasure button and was flicking it lightly but repeatedly.

  "I'll show you," he said. In a deft move, he whirled around, at the same time pulling me down the bed so that when he was done his face was near my groin and mine near his. Using both hands, he parted me and thrust his tongue into my slick channel. I jumped, and then gasped again as his tongue found my clit and began to lap. It was different from the first time, and different from when Drew had done it, but it still felt like nirvana.

  I didn't understand my part until he swung a leg over my head and his shaft came to rest on my lips, pushing a bit. As soon as I took him into my mouth, his groans against my core increased, driving me further into mindless pleasure. His musk inflamed me, and I sucked, hard. In response, he sucked my swollen clit. In turn, I used both hands to push him further into my mouth, ragged sounds of ecstasy muffled by his shaft being thrust all the way into my mouth. We were locked in an embrace of lust that became stronger as we reciprocated, driving each other to greater heights of pleasure.

  Suddenly, I felt a rush, something like I imagined an avalanche, or a mighty waterfall, with its center where Justin's lips and tongue still sucked and teased me. I turned my head violently, yanking him out of my mouth before a spasm took me. My whole body convulsed, and my teeth clamped together, as I tried to curl into a fetal position, though Justin's body on mine prevented it. "Unh, unh, unh," I ground out. Justin kept sucking until I tried to push him away, spent. Only then, did he turn back around and take me into his arms.

  "That was a good one," he observed, as if I'd executed a perfect swan dive or something. I was incapable of speech, still quivering and twitching. Holding me close, he turned on his back and reached behind him for something, then handed me the small foil packet. "Here, you put it on me." My hands shaking, I managed to tear open the packet and take out the circle of latex inside. I reached for him, finding him only half-erect. I thought he needed to be hard to roll the condom on, so I did what I knew would accomplish that goal.

  Sitting up, I rolled and took him into my mouth again, feeling a rush of joy when his cock leapt in response. It took no more than a few seconds for it to be hard as granite again, ready for me to roll the condom on, which I took my time doing. Justin watched me avidly, and swiftly flipped me onto my back when it was done. He positioned himself between my legs, curled an arm under each knee and hefted my butt all the way off the bed, pulling me roughly into him as his engorged cock slid in with a little resistance.

  "God, kid, you're tight," he said. "But so wet!" He continued to murmur erotic nonsense as he thrust, slowly at first. The rhythmic strokes against the sensitive channel inside began to build me toward another explosive orgasm; I clenched him as he pushed. The first time, he gasped. The second time, he thrust harder, and then faster, until I was shrieking with each pounding blow. He was hitting a spot repeatedly that filled me with the need to erupt. His grunts were also becoming louder and more uncontrolled, until he went rigid and thrust as if to split me in two. My detonation followed immediately, and then he was shuddering and pushing with me.

  We came down slowly, first physically as he released my legs and collapsed on top of me, and then emotionally as our breath slowed and our bodies quieted. He was the first to speak.

  "God," he said. "That's the best it's been in years." I was feeling proud of myself and satisfied until he ruined it. "You're a good lay, Janey."

  Blood rushed to my ears and drowned whatever else he said. I was a good lay. No hint of affection there.
I'd done it again, given myself to a cold and indifferent player who would now discard me again until he hit a dry spell of 'good lays', and came back to me because he knew I'd give him what he wanted. I could clearly see the future, and didn't like what I saw. I rolled away from him and got up, no longer bothering to hide my nudity from him. He'd had me stripped and spread before him like a Christmas feast, what was the point?

  Without a word, I strode into the bathroom and started the shower, drowning his knocks on the door and his plaintive questioning, "Janey, what's wrong? Wasn't it good for you? What did I do?"

  When I came out, fully clothed and my hair carefully styled as well as I could without my hair products, he was sitting on the bed in his briefs, a schooled expression of neutrality on his face and the TV remote in his hand. The TV was tuned to the hotel information channel.

  "Looks like they got the road open around four this morning," he said, not looking at me.

  "Good. Will you take me home, please? I've got a lot to do today."

  "Sure, just let me grab a shower."

  I was polite and correct with him on the way back to campus. Now and then, he glanced at me curiously, but I had nothing to say. I wasn't mad at him, I was mad at myself. For the first time, I was considering how really stupid and immature I was being. That would come to a halt.

  I was here to study, get my teaching degree and prepare to start a life of independence for my daughter and me. This time, I really was going to swear off sex and no amount of pleading or manipulation from the man beside me would change my mind. I was done with him, despite the soaring heights of pleasure I could attain with him. It meant nothing to him, so it couldn't mean anything to me, either.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Drew called that afternoon. This time he was inviting me to the game personally, and my morning of self-criticism and realization had set me up to say yes, for one reason only. I had to clear the air with Drew. I owed him an understanding of what I'd been doing with him, even though it would hurt him deeply. It was time to confess my attraction to Justin and let Drew know he shouldn't want to be with me. I didn't deserve him, and he didn't deserve to be treated the way I'd been treating him.

  Ri wouldn't approve of my plan, so I just didn't tell her. Nothing could be worse than the uneasy truce we shared right now, even a physical fight would be better. She looked at me distrustfully when I told her I'd be going and asked if she wanted to go together.

  "What are you up to, bi-otch," she said, half-heartedly trying for our old easy friendship.

  "Nothing. Drew asked me to go, and I owe him that," I explained, stopping short of the full story.

  "You can sit with us, then. You're really going to work it out with him?" she asked, clasping her hands under her chin as if in prayer.

  "We're going to talk," I answered, seeing no reason to make her fly off the handle by expressing my doubt that our talk would work anything out. In fact, I expected Drew to hate me afterward, and never want to see me again. At least he'd be free of the distraction, and he could go back to making good grades and playing well.

  In fact, he was phenomenal, leading the team to a blowout against Arizona State that had the fans ecstatic once again. I stayed put in the stands as everyone else streamed into the player's exit for a congratulatory high-five, fist pump or hug. Only when it had cleared out did I venture down to the exit, but the players had already continued into the locker room.

  I'd agreed to meet Drew here after he dressed and I didn't have to wait long. He must not have stayed long with his adoring fans, as he had showered and even had dried his hair. Without saying anything, we turned and made our way out to the parking lot, where Drew ushered me into his car and took off toward the Pancake Haus.

  "Drew," I said, "We need to talk, and I'd rather not have an audience. Do you mind if we just go park somewhere? Maybe get a burger at a drive-thru or something?"

  He tensed as soon as I said 'we need to talk'. This wasn't going to be easy on either of us. The second time I caught myself wringing my hands, I sat on them, causing Drew to look over at me with his brows knitted and his head tilted. I wanted him to have his after-game meal in his hands and partially eaten before I hit him with what I had to say. A shot of tequila would have been helpful for me, but Utah had no drive-thru burger joints with liquor licenses, I was certain.

  Once we had our bags of to-go food, I busied myself getting Drew's sandwich out and wrapping it so he could handle it one-handed, then placing his fries where he could reach them. He didn't start eating until we were high in the foothills above the main drag, though, parked at the curb beside a neighborhood green space.

  Drew cleared his throat, searching for an opening, and finally settled on, "Good game, huh?"

  "It really was, Drew. You played so well, congratulations."

  "Thanks. Listen, Janey, I'm sorry about the other night. I shouldn't have gotten carried away. I don't blame you for hating me, but can you forgive me?"

  Momentarily lost, I finally realized he was apologizing for something about the sex play. "Drew, I don't hate you, and there's nothing to forgive."

  "Then what, Janey? Why did you freak out? It's been tearing me up."

  "I need to tell you something, Drew, and you're going to hate me afterward. Maybe you'd better take me to the dorm now, so I won't be so far from home when you kick me out of the car."

  "Don't be ridiculous, I'm not going to kick you out of the car, and I can't imagine what you could tell me that would make me hate you. Just spill it, Janey, you're making me crazy!"

  "Okay, don't say I didn't warn you. I need to go back to the first of the year, before I met you. I got a huge crush on my English professor, and I slept with him." I couldn't look at him, but I could imagine the incredulous look, or maybe a look of disgust, on his face. Keeping my head down, I stared at my hands, which wouldn't be still, plucking at a piece of lint on my pants, twisting my fingers together.

  "Ow," he said, without heat. "I didn't see that coming, but you said that was before we met. What difference would it make to me?"

  Miserable, I knew I'd have to get the rest of it out somehow. "Drew, I never stopped crushing on him. I slept with him again after I met you." I risked a peek. Drew's profile had gone to stone, except for the muscle twitching in his jaw.

  "While we were dating?" he asked, finally.

  "I was hoping to forget him by dating you. Then we had our fight and he showed up. Drew, I'm sorry. I don't blame you for hating me," I said, unconsciously echoing his words from a few minutes before.

  "I don't hate you, Janey. Have you broken it off with him? When was the last time…" he stopped, evidently unable to say the words. I could have made the argument that it was none of his business, but I wanted to be friends again eventually, when he stopped being mad. If I weren't completely honest now, I never would be. Any future friendship would be tainted by the lie.

  My voice was low and soft as I answered. "Last night."

  I expected an outburst, yelling, accusations. None of that happened. Without a word, Drew got out of the car and closed the door quietly. Then he ran into the little park and disappeared among the evergreen trees. I peered out my window, trying to see where he'd gone. All I could see was violent shaking among the trees, until I caught a glimpse of him throttling a small tree no taller than he, shaking it as if he'd like to kill it. Then he turned to a larger tree, not an evergreen and drew back a fist.

  "No!" I screamed. I didn't know whether he heard me, but something made him think better of punching a tree. A thought for his basketball career, maybe, as it would certainly have broken his hand. Instead, he kicked it half-heartedly before making his way back to the car.

  "Drew…" I started to say, but he held up his hand in a Stop! gesture.

  "I can't talk to you right now, Janey. Sorry. I'll take you back to the dorm."

  It was no less than I expected, but grief filled me. No future friendship, then. I'd badly hurt a kind, decent man, and I didn't deserve his
friendship, much less the love he'd professed for me. As big a mess as I'd made of things, I'd be surprised if any man could love me. Silence ruled as he drove me back to the dorm, getting out of the car to open my door and walk me to the front door of the dorm as always.

  Conspicuously missing were the kisses we'd usually share as our goodnight ritual. That would never happen again. I'd avoided tears until now, but suddenly they were pouring down my face and I couldn't hide them as I choked out a goodbye. Drew turned and walked away, both hands clenched into fists that hung by his side.

  He must have gone straight to Rihanna, or called her. It wasn't ten minutes before I got a text from her. 'WTF have you done.' Nothing more. The trouble with a text is you can't tell if someone is yelling, or laughing, or what. Maybe if it had been in all caps, I'd have known the depth of her anger. As it was, I knew she'd be mad, but I didn't know how mad. Not until she slammed open the door, strode over and bodily pulled me out of bed to the floor and started kicking me, while screaming imprecations.

  I curled up in a ball with my arms over my head to protect it, at least, and waited it out. She wasn't kicking very hard, so I knew she wouldn't injure me. She just had to physically release the rage, or explode. When at last she stopped, I uncurled and crawled back into my bed. I'd be bruised tomorrow, but nothing was broken. I didn't dare speak, for fear of setting her off again, so I waited for the tongue-lashing I expected. It didn't come. Instead, I heard her leave the room, slamming the door behind her. She didn't come back that night.

  This silent waiting for expressions of anger that I expected but that didn't come was getting freaky. On the one hand, I was relieved, but there was unease as well, like waiting for a firecracker to go off when it appeared to be a dud. I woke up alone on Sunday morning and wondered where Ri had spent the night.