Strike

by Jennifer Ryder

  Before we turn the corner to the taxi rank, Spencer tugs at my arm and leads me into a dark alleyway.

  “I’m not ready to go home,” he says, brushing my long hair from my face and gently tucking it behind my ear.

  I lean back against the brick wall, and let out a loud sigh. “Me either.”

  He moves his body closer, one hand on the wall behind my head, the other around my hip. His hot breath tickles my lips as we stand nose to nose. Spencer closes his eyes, his chest rising and falling against mine with quickened breath. Maybe he’s waiting for permission to kiss me. I’d forgotten I’d had a go at him about throwing himself at me.

  “You wanna taste?” I tease.

  His baby blue eyes fly open. “Hell yeah, I do,” he says, and runs his tongue between his lips.

  I smooth my hands up his firm chest. His body shudders. Sweeping my fingers up around to the back of his neck, I pull him close, slamming my mouth into his. A guttural moan rumbles low in his throat as my tongue explores his hot mouth.

  I try my best not to vocalise how fucking amazing this feels. He knows how to kiss like no other man I’ve kissed. I nip and tease his full bottom lip, and when his hips pin me to the wall, and the hardness in his jeans presses up against me, I know I have to stop this. Before I do something rash like let him fuck me up against a wall in a dark alleyway. It’d be hotter than anything, but it’s too soon.

  I pull my lips from his and run my fingers over his smooth jaw. His breathing is ragged, and he clears his throat.

  “Damn,” he breathes.

  “What else are you thinking about? ‘Cause that bulge in your pants tells me you’re thinking about more than kissing me.”

  “I probably shouldn’t say,” he says and shakes his head.

  “Just be honest, tell me what you’re thinking. I’m a big girl, whatever it is.”

  “I was imagining that mouth of yours, and thinking you should give me a blow job.”

  I can’t help it. I laugh out loud, right in his face. Bold boy. He’s either incredibly brave or cocky as anything. He wraps his strong arms around my shoulders, and continues to press into me. Don’t rub up against him. Don’t do it.

  “You’re going to have to be a lot more charming and put in a lot more effort to get that from me.” I lean in close, his chest expanding as my lips brush his ear. “Because if I do it, trust me, you’ll know it was worth it and you won’t want any other mouth on you but mine.”

  His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows. “That good, huh?”

  “They’ll bury you with the memory clear in your head, it’ll be that fucking memorable.”

  “Christ, don’t put that image in my head. Please.”

  The picture of it is clear as day in my mind; Spencer moaning and crying out in pleasure as I take him in my mouth, in and out … it’s got me wet and needy.

  Jesus. I need to get a grip. No more rash decisions when it comes to men. I shake my erotic thoughts aside.

  “Come on, it’s late,” I say, leading him back in the direction we came.

  “Do you wanna share a cab?” he says.

  That would not be a good idea. Without a table between us, straddling him would be so much more tempting.

  “We’re going in two different directions,” I say, squeezing his warm hand.

  We line up behind a couple and queue.

  “Yeah. I know.” He kicks at some small rocks at the pavement. “I’m tied up until next Friday, but I wanna see you again.”

  “I’d like to cook you dinner,” I offer. “I could show you some of my pics.”

  “Sounds perfect,” he says. The sly smile that follows, reaches into my heart and gives it a squeeze. “You know, you never gave me a play-by-play of your version.”

  Oh, that’s right. The sexting.

  “I’m saving that for after dinner next week.” I press my lips together, forcing my grin to fade.

  “Promise?” he whispers into my ear.

  Yeah. I think he’s earned it. “Yeah, I promise. Might even show you.”

  His smile drops, and his mouth falls open. Then he nods, and smirks. “I’m really thinking you should, April. Sometimes words aren’t adequate.”

  “You’re right. Sometimes they’re not.”

  All of a sudden three cabs pull up, and we move up the queue. Spencer kisses me softly on the lips, leaving me tingling. He steps back and offers me the first taxi, and he walks to the car behind mine.

  “I’ll see you Friday, April.”

  “Yeah, see ya then,” I say opening the car door, and turning to face him.

  “If you’ll excuse me, there’s a cold shower at home waiting,” he calls out as I get into the cab.

  I’m thinking I need a cold shower too.

  ****

  * SPENCER *

  Friday

  All week, I’d been stuck in meetings, and today was no exception. I’d pretty much collapsed into bed each night after working long hours, a couple of nights doing circuits at the gym. That aside, my days always ended on a high with exchanging texts with April. I’d been trying to get more out of her about what was happening after dinner, but she was all secretive, which only drove my imagination to a dirtier place. I’d never jerked off so much in my life. I hadn’t had to. I’d been dreaming up all kinds of sexy scenarios about tonight. A dinner date at April’s place. I am so in for some action.

  “It’s been one hell of a week, son,” Dad barks as he strides into my office, dragging me out of my daydream. He unbuttons his double-breasted navy suit jacket, and makes himself comfortable in the leather chair on the other side of my desk.

  Huffing out a breath, I agree with him. “Yeah. It has.”

  “You know you’ve got potential to go along way with this, son,” he repeats for at least the third time this week. “I’ve done all the hard work, built this company from the dirt up. If you took on further studies in commerce and finance we could potentially corner the market. You’ll be making millions before you turn thirty, if you just shift your focus.”

  How the fuck do I tell him I’m not the least bit excited or motivated to study again? That I’m here purely out of obligation to the family? He talks about money like it’s the only thing in life to strive for. Yeah, I had everything I’d ever wanted growing up, and as much as I’ve protested since I started working for him, he still continues to make sure I drive the best car, and have the most expensive suits. But he’s been so caught up making sure I fit the profile of the perfect son that he doesn’t care to make sure I’m really happy.

  “So you keep saying,” I mutter.

  “And when are you going to start listening, huh? You need to get your head in this. You need to live and breathe it,” he says with a scowl, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening.

  Motocross is what I live and breathe for.

  Dad rises from the chair, and buttons his suit jacket.

  “I’m racing this weekend,” I say, and feel like a chicken-shit for the wavering in my voice.

  He huffs and rolls his eyes. “It’s not a long-term career. Think about that.”

  I rise to my feet so we’re eye to eye, and fold my arms under my chest. “I disagree. Look at Mac.”

  He turns on his heel, and strides towards the door. “See you Monday,” he says, and ends the conversation, just like that.

  This is why I don’t talk to him about riding unless I absolutely have to. It’s not worth the grief. I fucking hate it when he dismisses me like a petulant child.

  “Yeah, guess I’ll see you then,” I mumble to myself, because he’s gone.

  My desk phone rings, and I pick up the receiver. Eloise, my new assistant, blurts out that she’s going home. I’m glad. Her first week on the job, and she did little in the way of helping me.

  “See you next week,” I say and hang up.

  With my door wide open, the usual drone of the fifty-odd employees of CJ Capital, is noticeably absent. It’s time I get going too. I lean against the
leather of my high-backed swivel chair, and simply breathe.

  I’m fucking stuck between what I love, and the people I love; my passion, and my family. If I keep Dad’s ‘gold star’ clients happy, he gives me a break for training. I’ve only managed one training session this week, but at least with two full days on the track this weekend I’ll feel like I’m not totally fucking up my chances this season. Taking out the motocross championship is so close I can smell it. I can’t have Stone get another round up on me. I don’t see Billy boy as much of a threat, but he’s totally obsessed with his training. If I don’t watch it, Stone won’t be the only one I have to worry about.

  I pick up the photo frame from the corner of my desk, the one with the picture of my parents and Victoria and I at her graduation. We’re all so proud of her; first-class honours in Law. She’s a smart cookie. She’s had our support every step of the way. I’d die for that same level of encouragement for motocross.

  I just wish my parents would take the time to come and watch me ride. I know I’ve got no hope of my sister coming. Maybe, just maybe, if my family saw me ride, they’d see how much I love it. They might be more understanding. Stone has Eevie and his kids cheering him on from the sidelines, and Billy has always had his two brothers and his parents. Money can’t buy the kind of support I crave.

  My phone vibrates on the table, alerting me to a message.

  APRIL: YOU HUNGRY?

  Blood rushes to my dick. Funny how a simple text can do just that.

  ME: YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I’M ON MY WAY.

  Time to get home, freshen up, and then satisfy my hunger at April’s.

  ****

  I brought a bottle of red wine, but April insisted on looking after everything else. Not that I can cook, but I could have picked up something on the way.

  Opening the door to her apartment, mouth-watering waves of scents grab my attention—that is, until my eyes land on April. She’s in a pale blue, very short sundress, which shows off her tanned legs. A tea towel is thrown over her shoulder, and her hair is piled high on top of her head in a messy bun.

  “Hey, you,” she says, grabbing me by the elbow and pulling me in the door.

  “Hey, beautiful,” I say, and kiss her softly on the lips. I’d sooner stick my tongue in her mouth and really kiss her, like I’d been thinking about all week, but there’ll be time for that later. But not as much time as I would like, as I’ll have to leave. I’ve got a big weekend of training ahead.

  She steps back and fusses with her hair. “Sorry, I’m a bit behind with the cooking. I haven’t had a chance to get ready yet.”

  “I’d say you’re dressed perfect,” I say, not hiding my attempt to check out those fucking incredible legs.

  She takes the tea towel off her shoulder and smirks at me. “Come on through.”

  I follow her as she weaves through a hallway to the kitchen. There isn’t a spare inch of space on the small island bench. There are dirty pots and pans everywhere. The sink is full of dishes, but the big saucepan bubbling away on the stove looks amazing; a rich red sauce with splashes of white, orange and green.

  “Smells incredible. What is it?” I ask, watching her stir the pan.

  “Paella. I backed off on the chilli, in case you’re wondering.”

  “I can handle it. I’ve had two batches of MoFo hot wings and I’m still kicking.”

  “I couldn’t be prouder of my little chilli protégé.” She smiles.

  April takes a wooden spoon and blows on some rice before tasting it. “Fuck,” she grumbles, looking down at her dress. She turns side on and there’s a big blob of tomato on her chest. I take a tea towel and wet the corner of it under the tap.

  She picks off the tomato, and eyes me suspiciously. “Now I’ll have to get changed otherwise you’ll be looking at my boobs all night.”

  “April, I’d be doing that anyway.”

  “Ha ha,” she mocks. She tries to take the tea towel from me, but I snatch it away.

  “Let me clean it up.”

  “Sure,” she says, leaning back against the counter, her hands on her hips.

  I carefully dab at the stain with the wet towel. She pushes her chest out to me, which is expanding faster than it was a moment ago. When her tongue darts out and wets her bottom lip, I can’t stop myself from pressing up against her. She moans as she pushes her hips into me, dropping her hands to her sides. The bulge in my pants is once again obvious to the both of us.

  “Spencer,” she breathes, my name on her lips like sweet music to my ears.

  I drop the towel and lean into her neck, and momentarily drown myself in the sweet blossomy smell of her skin.

  “April,” I say softly, running my lips up to her ear before sucking on the lobe. I continue dotting kisses around her jaw, and then press my forehead against hers. I try and control the racing of my heart by taking slow breaths. I need to keep it together. “You need to set the pace, April, because I’m about to lose it and take you on the kitchen bench.”

  “You’d need to clean it first,” she says and laughs. She takes my face in her hands, and gazes into my eyes. “Make it through dinner, and we’ll have a bit of fun later.”

  “Fun?” What the fuck kinda fun?

  “I need to get changed. Come on, you can look at some of my shots while I do.”

  I follow her into another hallway, with large prints hung along both sides. The first one is a close-up of a skydiver, just above the clouds in first light. It’s an amazing shot. Is it of her? It’s hard to tell with the goggles and shading. She skydives. She must. Fits with everything else she’s told me.

  “Is this you?”

  “Yeah, I took that with my trusty wrist GoPro. It was in Le Marche, Italy, just near the Adriatic Sea. One of the best jumps ever.”

  “You’ve jumped more than once?”

  “Yeah. One of my earlier obsessions.”

  “Fuck. I’m not bad with heights, but I don’t think I could do it.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing. Can’t beat the rush.”

  We take another step, and there’s no mistaking the next shot is definitely April, drenched and standing in a pool of red with masses of bodies frolicking around her.

  “That’s from the tomato festival, in case you were wondering what I’m covered in. Waterproof casing certainly held up that time.”

  The large frames are solid black with a rounded edge and textured design, and the angle the stark white inserts are cut at, really brings the photos to life. “Yeah, I get that. Where did you get the framing done? They look awesome.”

  “There’s a little framing shop around the corner. The right frame really brings photos to life.”

  Read my mind, why don’t you?

  April walks off to the end of the hallway, presumably to her bedroom. She doesn’t bother to shut the door. Tease. I walk along the hallway to look at another photo, but a flash from the mirror in her room draws my eye. I move a little to the right and it gives me a front-row seat to April getting undressed. My feet frozen in place as the mirror reflects her from behind, I watch as she lifts the dress over her head.

  Lace. My kryptonite.

  She’s wearing a white lace bra and G-string, and her perfect tan extends over that firm arse. Does she sunbake in the fucking nude? I know that’s no spray. I’ve seen the orange glow more times than I care to remember. But a real tan, it’s delicious.

  She leans over and picks up something black off the bed, and I have to remind myself to breathe. I should stop looking. I’m only torturing myself. She’s hasn’t told me she’s ready yet, but I’ve never been more so. She slips something over her head, smoothing it down over her hips. It’s a casual dress, like a tank top but longer, the hem resting halfway down her thigh. Nice, I still get to see those legs.

  “Have you lived here long?” I choke out, trying to divert my nasty thoughts. I have to make it through dinner. I turn to the next photo, and it’s an action shot of her running with the bulls. I still can’
t believe she did it. Maniac.

  “I bought it about five years ago. Best investment I ever made.”

  She walks into the hallway, and then looks back at the reflection from her room.

  “Hmm,” she mutters. “Did you get a good look?”

  “Not really. You didn’t change everything.”

  “Keep up this broody thing you’ve got going on, and I’ll have to change my underwear.”

  Wet panties. Fuck, I need to think about something else. She’s killing me.

  “Dinner nearly ready?” I ask, swallowing the lump lodged in my throat.

  “Just about,” she says, swiftly kissing me on the cheek and taking my hand in hers.

  When I get closer to the next photo, I have to stop. Her arm is extended like she’s taking a selfie, probably the GoPro again. April is covered in mud, wearing a tiny black crop and tight shorts, her taut stomach beautifully bared. Every delectable toned inch of her upper body is on display. The only bad things about the shot are the two buff guys beside her. One is kissing her on the cheek, and the other has his arm wrapped around her shoulders and he’s smiling like a lunatic. Whoever they are, I instantly hate them.

  “You don’t mind getting dirty, do ya? Where’s this?”

  “Tough Mudder in Scotland last year,” she says and smiles as she focuses on the print.

  “Is there anything you won’t do?” I ask, dumbfounded by the courage and guts of this girl.

  “Mmm,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “Knitting. I don’t have the patience or the headspace for that shit.”

  I laugh out loud. “I’ll remember not to ask you to knit me a sweater, then.”

  She winks. “Deal.” April squeezes my hand and pulls me into the kitchen. “Time to eat.”

  ****

  Seeing April work her way around the kitchen is a different experience entirely for me. A date. A beautiful girl cooking me dinner. A first. Of course, I’m beginning to realise that she can make anything look sexy. She tastes. She seasons. She tastes again, and makes these little yummy noises that make me want to eat her instead of the damn paella.