“Superbowl champions don't get cold,” I said, and she laughed.
“Well, then, if you insist...”
She let me slip the jacket onto her, my hands lightly brushing against her arms as I did so. I was anything but shy, but felt my face heat up at the instant of contact.
“Better?” I asked her.
“Much,” she said. “Thank you. You're a true gentleman.”
“I try,” I said, and marveled at myself. It was all so much easier than it had been before, once upon a time. Maybe, I thought, because Sylvia herself seemed so much more relaxed than how I remembered her. Whenever she came around the house back in the day with Vanessa, she always seemed to scamper off as quickly as she could to avoid my presence.
“What about you?” I asked, hoping to keep the momentum going.
“What about me, what?” she asked, turning to me.
“What have you been up to all these years?” I asked her. “I mean, I remember Vanessa telling me you were going for a degree in English or something...”
“English literature,” she corrected me.
“Oh, yeah, right,” I said, nodding, trying to seem interested. I mean, I was interested, but I didn't want to seem as though this was out of my depths.
“That's pretty much your answer,” she said. “Got my Bachelor's Degree, been working on my Master's in ultra slow motion. Still stuck in the suburbs with my folks while I'm trying to get that wrapped up. Nothing as exciting as being a star quarterback in the NFL.”
I scoffed at this. “Oh, come on now. I wish I was smart enough to go in for something like that. I can't now, of course with all these damn CTE injuries...”
Her laughter seemed to catch her off guard, and she put a hand to her mouth as though it was some terrible faux pas. I smiled at her.
“That isn't funny,” she said, still grinning.
“You laughed didn't you?” I said. “But no, seriously. I always knew you were bright. Honest to God, I love my little sister, but I swear I don't think she could have made it through high school without you.”
“Sure she could have,” said Sylvia. “I mean, she's doing better than I am now, right? Getting her law degree and everything, something that's actually useful.”
“I think more than anything she's more people smart than book smart,” I said.
“That's a good way to put it,” she nodded, smiling. “I mean, you have to be smart to be a lawyer obviously, but I get the feeling it's her ability to read people in a courtroom and persuade them that really gives her a leg to stand on. Sometimes I wish I had more of that myself.”
“I always sort of liked you the way you were,” I said, catching even myself off guard. She gazed up at me for a moment, her eyes dazzling in the low light, then turned away, her cheeks turning red. “Anyway,” I said, treading lightly, “all that is to say that I can see why Vanessa had you around all the time back in the day. I just wish I'd gotten to know you better back then. You seem like a really cool person.”
She stood there for a moment, looking down at her hands as they gripped the metal railing.
“Well,” she said, turning back to me at last, smiling again, “there's no time like the present.”
And so we did.
We stood there on the cold balcony chatting in our white clouds of breath as though it was the middle of summer outside. We at last began to get acquainted with one another, as we both wished we'd done so many years ago.
We talked, and laughed, and began to feel as though we had a lot more in common than either of us might have realized. I started to get the feeling that she saw in me something similar to what I saw in her. Something set apart and distinct from the rest of the world. A softness, or gentility, even though it was one I tended to hide from most people. Or maybe that wasn't it, either, I'm not sure.
It was like– just this tenderness, this indescribable thing that was unlike anything I'd ever shared with any other woman. I was beginning to feel exactly like I had in high school, but better. It was the same, but without all the obstacles, those insurmountable barriers that seemed to crop up, which neither of us could ever quite make sense of at the time.
Maybe it had simply needed time. Time for the two of us to grow, to become the people we were destined to become, for this deep, mysterious connection to come to its fruition.
Minutes passed, then hours. We barely even noticed as the music inside began to die down, or as most of the city lights on the horizon blinked softly away into the dead of night.
Our conversation, at last, drew to an organic stopping point, and suddenly it was just the two of us, staring into one another's eyes, trying to figure out where the hell to go from here.
Stupidly I turned from her, and gazed back into the house, where all the lights had been shut off.
“I think the party's over,” I said, bemused. “Some host I am...”
I turned back to Sylvia, and her eyes were directed skyward, as though seeing something deep within the heavens that was invisible to me.
“It's snowing,” she said softly, and honest to God I don't think that it was until she mouthed the words, as though she'd actually somehow spoken the softly falling flakes into existence. They tinkled down onto our heads and shoulders, and I watched them land and dissolve against the material of my overlarge football jacket wrapped around her.
“No two alike,” I said dreamily, and slowly my eyes crept back up to Sylvia's own. We stared at one another again, for a long, long moment, time stretching off into infinity. “Can I kiss you?” I asked softly, the question that had hovered so tentatively on my lips for over a decade, unspoken until now.
She didn't say anything, and for a sinking moment I was sure that that meant no. But then she rose up, onto the tips of her toes. She leaned into me, and I wrapped my arms around her. Her body was so warm. Her lips were so sweet.
Our mouths dissolved, hot against the cold, falling snow, warming the two of us up deep from within. I ran my hand up the back of the jacket, along her spine, and up to her bare shoulders. I loved the way she shivered in my arms as we kissed, her hands lifting, gripping the sides of my face as though to steady herself, and holding me there for such a beautiful, eternal moment.
Gently we separated ourselves. My lips still rang with the taste of her, the scent of her perfume still lingered sweetly in my nostrils.
I studied her, waiting to see what reaction, any reaction at all she might have to this.
It was small, almost imperceptible. She leaned in to kiss me again, and pushed ever so slightly back, indicating the direction of the door to the balcony behind us. I obeyed without hesitation, blood rushing as I spirited her away into the darkness, the two of us losing ourselves in the light now consuming us.
And to think– it had all only been a single short decade in the making...
3
Sylvia
His jacket fell from my body and onto the bedroom floor. He shut the door behind us, and I hadn't realized just how cold I'd been out there on the balcony until he eased me down onto the bed, and wrapped his body around me, his warmth permeating through me.
It hadn't even been a week since the dream, I realized. And as impossible as it had seemed, it was coming true.
What surprised me, and didn't surprise me at all, was his tenderness. The way he kissed me, as though I was the first woman on earth he had ever kissed, and would be the only woman on earth he ever kissed again. I knew from episodes of TMZ alone that this wasn't the least bit true.
But the way he held me, and the way he touched me, I could almost believe that it was. I felt treasured in his powerful arms, cherished above all else in the world as he ran his fingers through my hair, and put his mouth to mine so sweetly. Our tongues met, and pushed into one another, and I grew lightheaded on his breath, pressing the hem of my dress up against him as I felt his desire pressing up against me.
“I've needed you so bad, for so long,” he whispered to me, and they were the exact words I craved.
I imagined my teenage self, how utterly annihilated I would have been as he whispered those words while kissing me. I might not have survived it, I realized, as I was barely holding on now. The need to carry on to the next moment, the next glorious torture at the tips of his fingers, or the brush of his chin against my cheeks the only thing that kept me from evaporating beneath his heat.
“I need you too,” I whispered, running my fingers through his hair. “I need you so, so bad Luc!”
He laced his fingers through my hair, gently pulled my head back, kissed my throat. I moaned. He reached for my body now, making me tremble as his palms made contact with my waist, and sending shivers all up and down along my spine as his fingers crept over my aching body.
“I need you, I need you!” I found myself chanting, and to my delight, he leaned up off of me, and stripped out of his shirt. I gazed in awe at that hulking body of his, built like a tank, muscles surging and gleaming in the darkness. There was a tattoo of his team logo, a knight with a sword encircled by a stylized letter C over his heart. Several others dripped along the terrain of his bulging pecs, his rock hard six pack, and led the eye downward to the picture perfect arrow of his Adonis muscles. He slid out of his pants and down to his underwear, and through the tight fabric I could see just how badly he wanted me, his enormous shaft pressing through the fabric, precum spilling through, making the space between my legs burn with a desire to have him inside me.
And suddenly his hands were on me again. All at once I was feeling nervous, for the first time since we'd started talking out on the balcony that evening. I helped him peel me slowly out of my white dress, increasingly trepidatious as he did so. This was a man who'd bedded supermodels, the most beautiful women in all of the world, and I couldn't help but be just a little bit shy about my own body in comparison.
A part of me wanted to stop him for a moment. To put up a hand, to preemptively apologize in case I wasn't what he was expecting. This fought against every feminist instinct in my body, but that didn't make the urge any less real. But I ended up not saying a word, and he kept on going, unhooking my bra from behind, and sliding it off of me as though it were an action committed to muscle memory– which, I thought with an undue pang of jealousy, it may well have been for a man such as him.
The moment my breasts were bared he reached for them, putting those huge, firm hands so tenderly upon them, forcing me to tilt back my head and moan. I could feel my nipples beginning to stiffen and prickle with goosebumps as he rolled his fingers around them, my heart beating faster and faster up against his palm as he held me in his embrace.
“You're so beautiful,” he whispered to me, and it was all the reassurance I needed as he leaned his face down into me as though in prayer, and slid my right breast between his hungry lips.
I gasped. Arched my back as his tongue began to trace around my nipple in slow, steady circles. His teeth sank. The pleasure was intense, blinding, absolutely incredible.
I bit my lip, and reached down with one hand to seize him through his sorts. I stroked his cock through the fabric, craving the heat of him, loving the way I could feel his balls tightening against his body in response to my touch.
This only left him hungrier for me still. He pressed my tits together in is hands, slid his mouth onto the opposite nipple and sucked. With his free hand he reached down, slid his fingers into my panties and up between my legs. His digits sank into me, rubbing in all the right places, a sweet, nuclear friction that drew my knees together, and left me moaning for him at the top of my lungs.
“I'm so goddamn glad you came to my party,” he whispered, leaning up over me, and staring sweetly into my eyes. I laid there against the pillow, heart thundering, and stared up at him, so overwhelmed with passion and excitement that I almost wanted to cry.
Then without another word, he leaned softly into me, and pressed his lips against mine one last time. He pulled away slowly, and reached for the frills of my panties, sliding them off of me like a scroll, and tossing them over the edge of the bed. I felt the cool air of the room inside me, my knees knocking with anticipation.
Luc raised himself up for a moment, and finished undressing as well, tossing his balled up shorts onto the floor next to my own dainty undies. His hard cock spilled into the open, dripping with jizz, even bigger than I'd imagined it now that I saw it in person.
He caught me studying him, and smiled at me, as though to silently ask, You like what you see? Then he brought his hands up and placed them both on my knees, separating them slowly. He leaned forward, and I felt the sweet, gentle warmth of his breath up against my most sacred space.
I closed my eyes. Held my breath. Counted backward from ten.
Gasped.
His tongue went inside me. It rolled, and gently licked, as his mouth pulled, lips kissing the lips of my pussy.
“Oh, fuck!” I cried, my pelvis rising from the bed, thighs closing so that his beautiful face became a willing captive to the prison of my thighs. Indeed he laced his arms up under the crooks of my legs and gripped both of my knees, as though to secure himself even more firmly into place as he feasted upon me.
My nostrils flared, and my body shook as that beautiful face nodded in and out of me. The bristles of his facial hair rubbed against my open, trembling thighs, and Christ I was in heaven.
His tongue was so skilled, yet so exploratory, as though he knew exactly what to do, exactly what I needed at every tender moment, yet he didn't want to run the risk of leaving a single stone unturned while pleasuring me. His lips pulled, and his tongue pushed, and the tip of it sent hums of sensation rising through my entire body, activating pleasure centers that I hadn't even really known existed until now.
“Oh yes... Oh yes... Oh, God, yes!” I encouraged him, arching my back again, and gripping the headboard of the bed for support as he settled further in. I bit my lip so hard that I thought I might draw blood. Yet the more intense the pleasure grew, the more and more I wanted from him, my appetite growing insatiable as he drove me to insane crescendos, only to ease me back down again on the brink of oblivion.
I reached for the crown of his beautiful head, gasping as he consumed me, guiding him deeper and deeper against my body, needing to feel the pull of his muscles in my grip as he worked his way around inside me. I stared down along the ropey musculature of his back, studying his toned ass as it shifted against the bed, a thrusting motion that matched the steady rhythm of his consumption.
I could feel myself getting hotter, wetter, brighter and brighter. Then, with my eyes half open, half blinded by the pleasure, I saw one of his hands slip down from my knee, and reach just up above where his lips and tongue were busy working so diligently against me. My eyes instantly widened, and I knew beyond a doubt that I simply couldn't contain myself any longer.
The sensations rang from my clit, and permeated deep into the center of my body. Orgasm sprang up like a geyser inside me, and left me screaming at the top of my lungs, forcing my body as far up into Luc as I could go, his face unwavering as I drowned him in my pleasure. Waves and waves and waves of the sweetest sensation surged through me, every limb trembling as I soared to unprecedented heights, and my body only gradually drifting back down from the heavens as he slowly pulled those majestic lips away.
“Mother of God, what are you trying to do to me?” I gasped, still shaking, and watched as Luc drew up toward me again, his sweet lips glistening in the darkness.
“I'm sorry,” he said with a grin. “Should we stop?”
I didn't even bother saying Hell no!, but instead grabbed him by the neck and pulled him to me once more, tasting myself on his lips, thinking that never before in my life had I ever tasted anything sweeter.
We twisted and writhed there on the bed, hands and mouths all over one another, the temptation of his hardness rapidly becoming far too much for me to withstand any longer. I reached down between his legs and seized him, pushing the shaft of his erection between my fingers slowly, steadily, greedily.
; He sighed, eyes closed, and drew his head back, as though this was giving him every bit the amount of pleasure as he had given me– though of course I knew that that simply wasn't possible.
I felt the heat of his shaft contrasting with the cool, clear spill of his fluid against my fingertips, proof that he was restraining himself from the edge of his carnal desires every bit as much as I was. I drew my glistening hand up from off of him, and stared up into his eyes as I very slowly slid a finger into my mouth, and licked away his flavorless desire for me.
And it was this cue that set him over the edge, activating the same bestial part of his brain that kicked into gear whenever he was out playing on the football field.
He seized me– there's no other word for it. He pressed me down hard into the mattress, and pressed apart my legs with his own. He found my heat with the tip of his cock, hoisted up my knees to around my chin, and slid up inside me.
I'd been dying to feel this for an eternity now, yet I found myself wholly unprepared for the true intensity of the sensations.
He stretched me open, filling me instantly. I felt his erection sliding deep inside, his tip colliding with my g-spot, sending echoes of sensation flooding through my entire body.
I screamed. My arms shot up around him, gripping those powerful back muscles, nails digging into his flesh.
“Oh, fuck you're tight,” he whispered and I felt myself grow breathless, cheeks flushing, until slowly he eased back out of me. Instantly I was missing him, and instantly he was doubling down, pressing in again, throwing his weight forward and making me gasp with a sudden, short leap of orgasm.
I cried into his shoulder, gripping his neck– never, with anyone I'd ever been with, had this ever felt so, so, so good.
His weight shifted, pelvis rotating in a steady rhythm. Those glorious tattooed muscles rose and fell atop me like waves, began to glisten with sweat as he took me, thrusting, gripping, holding me tight as our bodies became one. A union that had been so, so long in the making, but one which was by no means less incredible for the fact.
The Red Zone: Second Chance Sports Romance Page 3