I grin, not needing to say more as I pull her in for a hug. "Hey, does Chelsea live in this dorm?"
Carrie shakes her head, confused. "No. Why?"
"She just went in a few minutes ago. Maybe I should talk to Coach tomorrow."
"No," Carrie says, shaking her head. "You don't need drama—you have your own demons to deal with. Remember, this is about us, right?"
"Any idea where you'd like to go?"
Carrie nods and kisses my chin. "Take me up to the foothills. We can watch the city for a while from Mission Park. Then, we go back to your place."
Chapter 14
Carrie
I didn't expect Duncan to react the way he does when I tell him I want to go back to his place. I mean, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what that means. Instead of looking excited, he looks pensive, but he nods and hands me my helmet. I climb on behind him, and we ride off, getting on the freeway and heading up to the hills. Mission Park overlooks most of the city, where we can sit on a picnic table and look down on the lights twinkling below us.
"Hmmm, this is nice," I say as I lean into Duncan. "I've never been up here at night before."
Duncan puts an arm around my shoulders. His hand is warm, and the summer has officially ended in California, fall is starting to take hold, and the air is just a little chilly. I hum, but Duncan's still stiff. "What is it?"
"Just . . . I guess I don't want to rush you into something," he says, and in his voice, I can hear restraint, tenderness, and a hint of doubt, something I’d never expect. It's touching and warms me as much as his hand or his body. "I didn't come by to end up repeating the same mistake I made last time."
"You aren't," I reassure him. “This past week has been hard for me, and I know for you too. All week, the conversation we had has been replaying in my head. I kept hoping and praying that you were getting on top of your demons, and watching you Saturday, I thought you were."
"I tried to call you yesterday, but I got home too late to call," Duncan says quietly. "But you didn't pick up. I guess I know why now. When you didn't call back again today, I couldn't stand it any longer. I need you—I need you for your strength, for your tenderness, for everything that makes you who you are. Because the fight's not over."
"It never will be," I say, leaning in and nestling against him. "And you're worried that if we do what we did last time, that you're going to lose that fight."
Duncan nods, and I take his free hand. "I don't want to hurt you,” he says.
“I can take care of myself, if you haven’t noticed,” I reply, chuckling. "Duncan, you're more sensitive than you let on."
He cocks an eyebrow, flexing his unoccupied arm into a pretty decent bicep pose. "Who, me? I'm the Western University bad boy, remember?"
I laugh and scoot over, sliding down the table until I'm laying on it, and rest my head on Duncan's lap, looking up at the stars. “That's true," I quietly muse as I look at him against the outline of the overhead stars, “but you’re more than that too. We can be strong for each other, right?"
Duncan nods, and we sit quietly, him stroking my hair while I watch the stars and he watches the city. "Carrie?"
"Yeah?"
"Remember when I told you about the crowd and why I love it so much?"
"A little. I thought there was more you wanted to say, but you didn't."
"It's one of the things I've been thinking about. I know why I want the crowd, the fame, the adoration."
I hum, and his hand moves in slow, lazy circles over top of my blouse, not really stroking my breasts, but he's skirting around them. "Why?"
"It's not them I want attention from, at least not just from them," Duncan says, looking down into my eyes. "I wanted attention from my father. He has never really given me much attention. A shitload of money, but attention . . . no. You know who taught me to throw a football as a kid?"
"Your mother?" I ask, and Duncan shakes his head.
"No. Mom had taken off by then, tired of Dad's shit. Actually, the gardener taught me to throw a football. My first games, Dad was never there. He was always off making some next deal, some new score. In fact, thinking back, I can only remember of a handful of games he’s ever been to. None since I came to Western, that's for sure."
Suddenly, Duncan laughs and smiles. "I thought the girl was supposed to be the one with the Daddy issues?"
"Well, if you want, I can dress you up and start calling you Sally," I tease back. "But only if I get to dress like a guy, too, and you call me Sir."
Duncan laughs again, and his hand finds the curve of my left breast and massages it gently, causing me to moan. His hands are bewitched, that's all there is to it. "I think I like you as Carrie much more."
I groan as Duncan finds my nipple and pinches it lightly through my blouse, bringing it to pebbly hardness. "I like you as Duncan a lot more too."
I shift around, and he brings his other hand to my right breast, warm waves of pleasure rolling through me as he massages each breast gently. "You are so beautiful."
"With you, I feel beautiful," I whisper back, looking up at him. "You don't know how much that means to me."
Duncan leans down, and though he can't kiss my lips, he finds the hollow of my throat, kissing my neck softly. He whispers something, so soft I can't hear it, but I know what I want to hear him say. “Here?” I ask.
Duncan shakes his head, smiling wistfully. "As wonderful as that sounds, I don't have a condom on me. I wasn't exactly expecting this.”
I think about it for a second, then grin. "I know what to do then . . . the Hart Attack.”
He stops, frozen, unsure. Before he can say anything, I cover his hands that are still resting on my breasts and begin kneading my breasts and his hands at the same time. “Yes, I’ve heard the rumors of what the Hart Attack is.”
Duncan's hands begin to move again, his right hand drifting to the buttons of my shirt, unbuttoning my blouse slowly. "What about . . . well, lube?"
I laugh and reach up, rubbing the big muscles of his right arm. "I had the idea when I was packing. Look in my backpack. I didn’t expect to do it out here, but hey."
Duncan finishes unbuttoning my blouse and carefully opens it, taking me in. There's barely any light at all, just the moon overhead, and he becomes a pale, ghostly version of himself, like an old-fashioned movie or something. I lift my head and roll up to a sitting position before coming closer and kissing him. "Duncan, I trust you. I’m clean, I promise.”
“I know you are, as am I. I’m usually pretty anal about protection.” He chuckles. “I need to get you ready," he says, reaching for my backpack. He opens it and finds the tube of lubricant, taking a look at it in the moonlight. "How long have you had this thing?"
"A while. My freshman dry spell left me kind of desperate, and I ordered some things off the Web that I'm never going to let my parents see."
Duncan laughs and uncaps the tube, squeezing just a drop onto his finger before rolling it around. "It's still good. We’re going to need a shower together at home after this.”
I nod and unsnap my jeans. "I like the sound of that."
"What, a shower?"
"No . . . we and the words home and together."
Duncan chuckles and gets off the table. "I like the sound of it too. Next semester, think you’ll take me up on my offer?”
“We’ll see, mister.” I get off the table and bend over, my feet on the grass but my hands planted on the edge of the wood. I feel sexy, powerful, and vulnerable all at the same time, and I love it.
Duncan gets behind me, finds my waistband and eases my jeans down, the cool air causing goosebumps to break out on my flesh as I step out of one leg. "The key is to relax," he says softly as he starts to massage my ass. "Have you ever done this before?"
“No, but It's been a secret fantasy of mine since high school,” I admit.
"Girl next door Carrie with a fantasy like this?" Duncan teases, his hands powerful and gentle on my ass. I spread my legs more, and h
e brings his right hand between my legs and rubs at my panties, his fingers finding the lips of my pussy, sparks shooting from every caress. He curls three of his fingers in a wave motion, and I'm assaulted with pleasure, my thighs trembling with each amazing stroke.
Duncan eases my panties down, and I hear the cap of the lube open again, this time hitting my ass and dribbling down, in between the cheeks. I open myself in anticipation, breathless as his left hand brushes deeper, deeper . . . and I feel his finger on my asshole, electricity filling me. It feels so good, the soft massage. I never thought it could be like this.
He opens me slowly, slipping a finger inside to my gasp, barely inside, so tight, but he keeps his massage going until I'm open more, his finger slipping the rest of the way inside almost effortlessly. I'm caught up in the wave of sensation as Duncan's fingers on my pussy work in concert with his finger in my ass, bringing me higher and higher, but never letting me come.
"Duncan . . . no more teasing. I want you."
"Patience . . . just a little more, to be sure."
There's a moment of pain as he slides another finger in, but it's gone in an instant, replaced by the deep, primal pleasure of his fingers inside me. Fantasy is being brought to life, and I can only wait, helpless to him, as he finishes opening me up. When his fingers pull out, I'm left empty, and it's soul-crushing for a second before I hear the sound of his zipper going down, and I realize he's preparing himself. "Take a deep breath," he says quietly. "Then when I start to push, exhale and push back into me."
I nod and realize what he's asking. It'll help relax my muscles. I take a deep breath, nearly letting it go when I feel the thick head of his cock rub between my ass cheeks. I'm so ready for him, I want to come already. Then his cock lines up with my asshole, and I tense. "Relax . . . and breathe out."
He pushes slowly while I push back, and the pain is big, bigger than I thought it would be after so much massaging. I grit my teeth and keep pushing back, not willing to give in.
The head of his cock pops through, and suddenly, all the pain washes away in an explosion of accomplishment. I did it! And oh, God . . . it feels so good.
"Duncan . . . oh, fuck."
He hums, his breath short and choppy, and he pulls back, keeping the head of his cock inside me before thrusting in again. This time, his thick, warm cock slides all the way inside me, and I'm his . . . fully.
"Carrie," Duncan whispers, pulling back and beginning to pump in and out of me. I can't believe it. It feels so good, and I feel full, complete, and the waves of pleasure that wash through me are deeper, different than anything else I've ever felt. I grip the table, pushing back as best I can, and this time, Duncan is gentler, not with the animal ferocity and power of our first time, but tender as his cock slides in and out.
It doesn't stop the wave of my orgasm from building, and I'm soon gasping, groaning in need and want as it builds inside me. "Duncan, I'm going to come . . ."
His hips speed up, and his cock is blurring the lines between fantasy and reality as my body is taken over and over by this man that I want and need. Duncan grabs my waist and holds me tight as he thrusts harder, faster, until he's also trembling, both of us right on the edge.
I feel him swell inside me, and with a shuddering groan, he pulls out as I hear him cry out, pushing me over the edge. I feel a tightness in my chest as I come, my breath stopping and the entire world ringing as I come hard. I can't breathe, but if I die right now, it'd be worth it to feel this amazing sensation.
When it passes, I almost collapse onto the table, unable to hold myself up any longer. Sweat rolls down my face, and I'm smiling even though I’m spent. Duncan's still behind me, his breath ragged in the darkness. "So that's why it's called a Hart Attack."
"Hmm?"
"It felt so good, I swear my heart stopped for a moment," I whisper, looking back over my shoulder at him. "And it's addictive as hell, too."
Duncan smiles, helping me stand to turn around and kiss him before he drops to a knee, stopping my heart again for a moment before I realize he's trying to help me with my jeans. "You scared me there for a second."
“Huh?” he asks, and I feel warmth spread up my neck to my cheeks.
"Because for a second there, I thought you were going to ask me to marry you."
Duncan stops, realizing before he laughs. "A little too fast for that, don't you think? But I did have another idea in mind."
"What's that?"
"Why wait until next semester to move in with me?"
I think about it, and I nod. “Tell you what, maybe I’ll just stay with you on the weekends,” I say, unable to hold back my smile. “I’ve still got residence in the dorm for the rest of the semester, and my parents would shit themselves if they knew I moved in with you. My dad already kind of hates you. But weekends for sure."
"And tonight," Duncan says, gathering me in his arms and holding me close. “Don’t tell me you’re changing your mind about tonight.”
"Yes, of course, tonight."
My stomach grumbles, and Duncan laughs. "Come on. Let's go home, and I'll see what I have in the fridge.”
Chapter 15
Duncan
Monday night. An away game. It seems strange to be saying that, but it feels good at the same time.
"Hey, get used to it," Tyler says to me as we jog onto the field. The lights are bright, and it's our second night game in a row. "Starting next year, you're going to be playing a lot on Sunday and Monday, right?"
"Damn right," I answer, smacking him on the shoulder. "Let's take care of these guys first."
When our schedule was first determined, a matchup of the Western Bulldogs versus the Carolina Swamp Foxes sounded like a hell of a fight. West Coast against East Coast, Western Conference against the South Atlantic Conference. There was even star power, as Carolina was bringing back not only a star quarterback, but two All-American defensive players.
Unfortunately for them, but great for us, one of the Carolina All-Americans, outside linebacker, Marcus Winston, tore up his shoulder in the second game of the season, and with him out of action, their other All-American on defense, tackle Jerome Lattimore, was more easily contained. Tyler is still going to have his hands full, but we've got the advantage.
"Man, I'm just glad you're not doing suicide squad again this week," Tyler says as we wait for the kickoff. "You were sucking wind at the end of last game."
"Don't sweat it. I've got inspiration tonight."
Tyler nods, then leans in. "Hey . . . just to let you know, a lot of the guys aren't happy about the way the Honor Board is treating your girl. You notice that Chelsea ain't around."
"I noticed," I say, looking at the staff that came with us. Since this is a televised game, the network popped for the extra three tickets, and some of the training interns came along this time. Still, none of them were Carrie, and I flexed my elbow in response. "It'll work itself out. I’m making it my mission to make sure things are set right.”
"Well, let's roll. Our ball!"
Tyler and I run out to the huddle with the rest of the starting offense, feeling it. The Carolina crowd isn't friendly, booing us loudly, but we expect that. "Time to be the bad guy," I yell as we huddle up. "Let's go ruin someone's night."
I line up, and Tyler sends me in motion, and I 'wiggle' across, cutting upfield as soon as the ball snaps into a ten-yard out pattern, catching the ball off a perfect lead by Tyler. I turn up field and gain another seven yards before getting tackled, and it's on.
We line up again, and I grin at the Carolina player on the other side, who's dressed in his black and light blue and still feeling like there's a chance. "What, no shit talk?" he asks as we get set. "Thought you were famous for it. I was looking forward to shutting you up.”
"Don't need it anymore," I reply, and when the ball snaps, I blast him with a double-punch to the shoulder pads before cutting across the middle. I'm actually the second option on the play, but when I turn my head back, I see Tyler already releasin
g the ball in my direction. It's a little high, but not too bad, and I can take it in with a running jump, landing and cutting up the field with a step on my defender. Forty-seven yards later, and Western is up by a touchdown, and the noisy Carolina crowd goes, at least temporarily, quiet.
Unfortunately, the Carolina offense fires back quickly, and we find ourselves in a Monday night shootout. Great for the stat monkeys, that's for damn sure, because by halftime, we've combined for sixty-six points of scoring between us, and we're up thirty-five to thirty-one.
"Fuck, it's a goddamn Madden game out there!" Tyler gasps as we sit in the locker room. "Defense, give us at least one fucking stop!"
"Tyler, chill," I say, putting my hand on his shoulder. “We’ve got this.”
Tyler looks at me for a moment, then laughs. "You're right. Okay. Go spread some sunshine and rainbows, Hero."
It's my new nickname from the team after Tyler spread the word that 'Touchdown' was forever retired. I shake my head and pick up my helmet. "You guys have to think of a new one. That's even worse than the old."
After discussing some adjustments, we head out for the second half, and I see Joe and the rest of the defense go to work. The adjustments they made are effective, and for the first time tonight, the Carolina Swamp Foxes punt the ball. We return the ball to our forty, and as the offense goes out, we know there's a chance to start to stretch our lead.
We line up, and as the ball snaps, I explode across the line, directly into the side of Jerome Lattimore, who was passed by our guard and tackle. He's huge, and has nearly fifty pounds on me, but I've got speed and surprise, and as he gets driven to the turf, I feel something jump over me and hear the roar of the crowd.
I scramble up to see our running back off to the races, nobody in front of him, and we go in with one play for a sixty-yard touchdown.
"Nice block," Coach Thibedeau says when I have a seat. "The old Duncan wouldn't have hit that hard."
Over the Middle: A Sports Romance Page 12