by Avery Flynn
“Show me.” He couldn’t look away from her. Missing this was like ignoring one of the Seven Wonders of the World. “Show me how beautiful you look when you do it.”
She arched her spine, practically doing a backbend, and flung her arms back so she balanced with her palms on his shins. The move changed the angle, letting his cock rub against the sensitive nerves just inside her entrance with each forward and retreat. Wanting to drive her even further down the path, he reached lower and circled her clit with his thumb. She tightened around him and he nearly lost it. Holding on to every last bit of self-control he had, he forced himself to ease back from the edge.
Her legs began to shake and he grabbed her ass, rocking her hard against him until her nails dug into his skin and she screamed out his name. Only then did he let himself go, lifting his hips off the bed and driving into her as deep as he could possible. Three fast, hard strokes and his balls tightened. The vibrations built in the base of his spine and he made one final thrust before coming with enough intensity to temporarily blind him.
She collapsed on top of him, her chest heaving in time with his own, and he wrapped his arms around her as if she were his anchor to reality as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Mind-breaking sex, yes, but there was more. Wasn’t that always the case with her?
“I wasn’t lying before,” Angie sighed as her eyes fluttered shut. “You certainly are amazing on and off the field.”
He brushed a kiss against her temple. Her breathing steadied and she drifted off within minutes. But not him.
Off the field.
Getting on that field had taken every bit of fight and determination he had in him—and for good reason. Most high school football players don’t get into a Division One college program, and of those who do play college ball, less than two percent went pro. But he’d gotten here. He wasn’t going anywhere for a good long while, but maybe Manny and Darius were right. Maybe he needed to start thinking about life off the field and making room for other things besides football in his life.
Angie snuggled tighter against him, the sweet smell of her taking his mind places it had never gone before.
Chapter Seven
Angie was sore in the best of ways the next morning. Her inner thighs complained and she’d definitely spotted a few finger-size red marks on her ass in her reflection as she stepped into the shower. She closed the glass door, feeling slightly wicked as she watched herself in the mirror just starting to steam over. The hot water sluiced over her skin and she closed her eyes, extending the previous night’s go-with-what-feels-good vibe by letting it stream over her, soothing her aches as it reawakened her pleasure zones.
Rubbing the soap between her palms, she couldn’t help but regret that she hadn’t been able to do the same with Colt’s hard cock last night. He’d been so intent on driving her until she hit her orgasm limit that she hadn’t gotten the chance to repay the favor. But it was more than a little you-do-me, I-do-you, she realized as she soaped up her body, lingering on her breasts, still sensitive from the attention Colt had paid them last night. She craved the taste of his cock on her tongue, the feel of circling his girth with her lips, and the pressure against the back of her throat when she took him in deep. Her soapy hand glided down her belly and farther, her finger tips sinking into her tight curls.
What had that man done to her? He’d fucked her silly last night and she still wanted more this morning. She brought her fingers back up to her stomach.
“Don’t stop.”
Angie started and her eyes flew open at the half-groaned plea. Colt leaned against the countertop buck naked and seemingly totally unconcerned about watching her almost masturbate in the shower when she’d thought she was alone. She should say something, but he was too damn distracting for her brain to form coherent thought. Broad shoulders sinewy with muscle, biceps that needed their own zip code and a honey-colored happy trail that divided the bottom half of his six pack and drew her attention to his thick cock only half hard—and yet still it was enough to make her mouth water and her nipples harden to stiff peaks.
“No.” Not when she had the real thing here. She pushed the door open. “Join me.”
His dick stiffened and bobbed in agreement with her plan. “Now who’s demanding?”
She didn’t say anything—didn’t need to. He did as told.
The cruise ship shower wasn’t big to begin with, but adding in Colt shrank it even more. Good thing she didn’t need a lot of room for what she wanted.
Circling his pale, flat nipple with a fingertip, she pushed him back until that hard ass of his hit the shower wall. She sank to her knees, the water sprinkling against her back, and leaned forward to lick his cock from base to the plump head, her right hand twisting as she followed her tongue’s path.
His responding moan worked its way down her spine and spread outward in waves of desire.
She needed to push him as hard as he drove her last night. Her hands snaked up his thick thighs, hard enough to break a nail on, and cupped his ass tight.
Moving his hips, he dragged his hardness across her cheek, leaving a trail of salty pre-come in its wake, until the tip rested against her bottom lip.
She stared up at him, getting a rush from the absolute fucking awe on his face as he watched his dick rest on her bottom lip. Bringing her lips together, she kissed the tip with the lightest suction and then relaxed her mouth so she could lap at his head.
His ass tensed under her hands and he threaded his fingers into her hair. “Touch yourself.”
Sinking her nails into is tight ass, she engulfed him before he could try to give her any more orders.
“Fuck me,” he groaned, dropping the back of his head to the shower wall and closing his eyes. “God yes.”
She increased her speed, using her tongue to flick against his heated skin and trace the path of the vein on his underside. Bobbing her head up and down, she kept her lips tight around him until she buried her nose in his tight curls, loosening her grip but increasing the suction on the return trip.
His hands tightened in her hair, forcing her to stop. “I want you to come when I’m buried in that sweet, hot mouth of yours.”
Now that was a plan she could agree to. She released his ass and slipped her fingers between her slick folds as he pumped into her mouth.
“So.” He withdrew. “Damn.” He surged forward. “Hot.”
Knowing he was watching her only added to the desire tightening her core and threatening to sweep her away. She lifted her gaze so she could see him and her fingers stopped moving when she saw the look on his face. He wasn’t lost in the moment. He was living in it—with her. They were on this journey together every step of the way.
He brushed a drop of water from her forehead. “Come for me.”
There wasn’t any question of not complying. Her fingers practically flew as they circled her clit and she moved her head in sync with the movement of his hips. It started in her thighs, the buzzing, pulsing tingling that rose to a constant hum that zipped up and exploded within her. She moaned around his dick filling her mouth and he came with her name on his lips.
He slid down the shower wall and pulled her into his lap. Silent and still shuttering from aftershocks, they sat in the shower until the alarm on her phone went off. The real world had given them all the time they were going to get.
“Come on, we docked at Jacques Island at dawn.” She stood under the shower spray and shampooed her hair. “There’s a Thunder fan parasailing adventure that you’re signed up for.”
“Not even in my current state of post-orgasmic bliss will I agree to that.”
They traded places and she stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her hair and another around her body. “What’s wrong, you chicken?”
“No. Hanging from a parachute that’s tied to a boat with a rope has to be considered a violation of my hazardous activities clause.” He turned off the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack above the toilet and beg
an to dry off. “Anyway, I’m not crazy.”
“The team signed off on the parasailing as non-hazardouss—so did the league.” She arched an eyebrow in a silent question.
He laughed. “Alright fine, I’ll go. I need time to figure out where to make reservations at for when we get back to Miami. Do you like Chinese? I know the best place.”
Something a lot like hope made her stomach do the loop de loop. She knew better, but being around Colt made it hard not to believe in something that would never happen. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“Only because you haven’t had their crab Rangoon yet.”
“I mean us…after this.” They docked in Miami tomorrow morning, a fact she’d been trying to forget since she’d woken up wrapped in Colt’s arms. If that wasn’t reason enough to warn her away from him, she didn’t know what would be.
“I told you.” He cupped her chin and tilted it upward. “I’m not like the other guys on the team who’ve screwed your friends over. Let me prove it to you.”
She pushed his hand away; his touch made it too hard to think about anything but saying yes. “I’ll think about it.”
He opened his mouth, but shut it before any words came out. He gave his hair a final rub with the towel and flipped the white terrycloth across his shoulders before dipping his head down to her level and sneaking a kiss. “I’m a stubborn son of a bitch. I’ll get you to see my way of it.”
Then, he walked out without another world.
Angie swiped a hand across the foggy mirror and tried to recognize the woman in the mirror who already looked half in love.
Colt stood on the boat platform looking like an asshole in yellow and red safety straps that wrapped around his thighs and waist before hooking to some contraption that looked like a sex swing without any promise of an orgasm. A giant red parachute hooked to the swing thing, along with a half-inch-thick towline that would connect him to the boat while he floated in the air.
The assistant yanked on the towline, testing the knot’s strength, and grinned at Colt. It was probably meant to be reassuring, but failed miserably. Nervous energy ate away underneath his skin, the same kind that normally got him all jacked up for a game. But this time instead of crunching bones, he’d be swinging his dick in the air praying the whole time that he wouldn’t die. Shit. The things the little head talked his big head into just to impress Angie was going to kill him one of these days.
Colt’s gaze connected with Angie’s. His cock twitched in recognition. “Are you sure about this?”
“It’ll be fun.” She got up from the small bench seat next to the platform at the back of the boat where he stood. “I researched the company, they’ve got a solid safety record.”
The required life jacket was doing its best to conceal all her delicious curves, but the image of her in her purple bikini had burned itself into his brain. He didn’t need to see the rise and fall of her tits with each breath to see them.
“I know what’ll be more fun.” Colt leaned down and took her mouth as if he had every right to it.
Hard, demanding and more than a little possessive, the kiss was meant to curl her toes and blast away every lingering thought that a romance with a Thunder player was destined to end messy. They docked back in Miami tomorrow morning. That wasn’t a lot of time to persuade her not to follow Vegas rules for their adventure on board, but he’d never let long odds stand in his way before.
Ending the kiss sucked, but he did it anyway. He wasn’t about to give the captain and his small crew any more of a show than he already had. PDA had always been on his never-do list—along with parasailing—but here he was. The things this woman did to him.
“You are a bad influence.” She sucked her full bottom lip between two teeth and shook her head. “Enough procrastinating. Half the Thunder Dome Crew already finished their parasailing adventures and are on the beach waiting to take pictures with you as soon as we get back. You don’t want to disappoint them.”
The man in the Jacques Island Parasailing shirt returned to the platform and yanked hard on Colt’s safety harness before giving the captain the thumbs-up and motioning to Angie to take her seat. The boat’s engine revved and the captain cut through the water following a fast path parallel to the beach.
“This is nuts,” he muttered as the boat picked up speed and the chute lifted.
Wind caught the chute, snapping Colt into the sky. Feet dangling useless beneath him, he floated up, the air brushing against him and a bubbling excitement lightening his body. It wasn’t exactly what it would feel like to fly, but damn it was pretty awesome. From his vantage point, he could see for miles. The cruise ship docked at the Jacques Island dock. The throng of Thunder fans spread out on the private beach. Angie waved at him from the boat.
Five minutes went by faster than during the fourth quarter when the Thunder was trailing by seven. The dude in the Parasailing company shirt let out an ear-piercing whistle, letting Colt know it was time. He grasped the straps on the swing thing with a loose grip as the man reversed the towline crank, starting Colt’s descent from the clouds. He had to hand it to Angie, that was pretty fucking awesome.
The parasail jerked. Not enough to scare him, but enough to snap his attention to the fact that he was still pretty damn high in the air.
A second jerk was accompanied by a sharp tearing sound. His gaze dropped to the rope connecting him to the boat below. The towline had gone from a smooth rope to a shredded mess. A third jerk and the strands might disintegrate before his eyes, sending him plunging into the ocean or slamming into the beach. His pulse came to a dead stop before coming back on-line with a panicked pace. Acting on the same instinct that told him where the quarterback would throw the football before he even released the ball into the air, Colt reached up and wrapped his fingers around the line.
A second later the line snapped in two.
A cry rose up from below. “Don’t let go!” Angie screamed.
That wasn’t going to happen. He white-knuckled the rope, holding on for dear life. Muscles and tendons burning, he fought the parachute’s drag and pulled the line in closer, winding his wrist so the rope circled his hand. The rope cut into this palm, chafing away layers of skin, and pain blazed its way up his arm, setting fire to every tendon and muscle from his fingertips to his shoulder.
“We’re bringing you in, sir,” the captain yelled.
The towline yanked Colt forward. Something in his wrist twisted and popped. Agony ripped through him and a wave of nausea hit so fast that his hold on the rope slipped. It tore through his grip, ripping away skin and leaving only raw pain in its wake. He clamped his hand closed just in time, blocking out the agony darkening the edges of his vision.
Every second in his downward journey. Every foot in altitude he lost. Every layer of skin burned away by the rope. He ignored it all…closed his eyes tight…gritted his teeth…absorbed all the misery being inflicted on his body until, finally, he collapsed on the boat’s raised platform.
Adrenaline leeched out of his body, evaporating right as the screeching pain of his wrist and palm crashed into him like a defensive tackle hopped up on steroids. The throbbing extended up his arm to his shoulder, the one he led with when he tackled. If it was fucked, so was his career—his whole life.
Angie rushed to his side, crouching down beside him as the boat sped toward the dock. “Are you okay?”
“Fuck no, I’m not okay.” He lifted his arm to show her the ruined mess of his palm. The move forced a branding iron of burning-hot agony deep into his wrist, which had already ballooned up to twice its size.
“Shit.” She reached out to touch him, but pulled back at the last second and fisted her hands by her side. Her big brown eyes were wet with concern. “We already called the ship’s doctor. He’s going to meet us at the dock. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Impotent rage spiked in his blood, it was the only thing that quieted the screams of agony from his arm. It was fine and dandy for her t
o be worried now. She’d told him it was safe. He didn’t know what kind of research she’d done into the parasailing company’s safety record, but it obviously wasn’t enough and he was the one who’d be paying the price.
“No, it’s fucking not going to be okay. I just got back from an injury. I’m thirty years old and I’m breaking down like a refrigerator that’s been dropkicked into hell. Plus I’ve got a hungry backup who wants my job more than he wants to breathe. This could be my career.”
“It’s too early to freak out about that now,” Angie said as she unsnapped the safety harness from around his legs and waist, her gaze never meeting his.
The forced calm in her voice and neutral expression on her face told him exactly how much he needed to be freaking out as they zoomed toward the nearby dock.
The ship’s doctor stood on the boat dock. A ship’s purser sat on a nearby ATV, presumably to get them back on board as quickly as possible so he could receive medical care. A dark emptiness filled him at the sight. Fucking doctors. No good news ever came from them. All they wanted to talk about was being cautious, taking a wait-and-see approach. They never understood the position he was in—how easy it would be for the league to leave him in the dust.
And Angie thought it was too early to freak out about a little thing like his entire life going straight to hell.
“No, it’s not too early,” he snarled, focusing his pain and frustration on her with the single-minded tunnel vision that helped him lead the league in sacks a few years ago. “It’s too damn late to stop myself from taking a stupid fucking risk because it was suggested by a hot broad I was banging.”
She flinched as if he’d struck her. “You’re in pain. We’ll talk about this after you see the doctor.”
Talk. Talk. As if that would stop his life from crumbling underneath him. “If this screws me from getting my starter position back, we don’t need to talk at all.”
Her jaw tightened and her eyes went blank as if she could stare straight through him. “I see.”