Second Chance: A Military Football Romance

by Claire Adams

  I watched her walk away into her bedroom. Thinking of her behind that door taking her nightgown off made my cock stir. The way she looked topless, in lingerie, in nothing… I remembered every little bit of her. It was seared in my memory, and it was right behind that door. I had to calm down – the wrong move now would shoot me in the foot. I wasn't fucking up this close to getting her back.

  I was looking at the pile of books on her dining table when she came out of her bedroom. Her dress was fire-engine red. It cut off a couple inches above her knees and didn't have any sleeves. A section on the chest was cut out, giving a perfect view of her cleavage.

  "Wow," I said, looking at her.

  "You like it?" she asked hopefully. Fuck, how long had it been since I kissed her? I didn't need my dick ruining this for me.

  "You look great. Ready?"

  She grabbed her purse, and we headed out. That little bit of awkwardness that was between us the last time we were alone together on the blind date was gone. Sitting there in my car, there was nothing between us, like we hadn't missed a beat since last year.

  I knew better than to think that, though. I wasn't treating this like it was a sure thing because it was not. I was going to do everything in my power to make sure this worked. That was why dinner tonight was at a steakhouse I knew for a fact she liked because we had been there together before.

  I wanted to hold her hand, but that might have been pushing my luck. It was enough that anyone who looked at us would know that we were together. I did let my hand ghost over her lower back as we moved through the restaurant, though, getting to our table.

  "I know what you're getting," I said, looking at Ron over the menu when we were sitting.

  "What?" she challenged.

  "Chicken Caesar if you're still trying to impress me and you're nervous. Porterhouse medium-well which you won't be able to finish and give to me if you feel like getting your usual," I said. Ron was the only other person I knew who liked a higher cook on her meat than medium. The blood just grossed me out.

  "You got cocky since sophomore year," she said. I smirked; I was right.

  "Naw, babe. You're just predictable," I said. She made a face, making me laugh.

  "I'm getting the tuna," she said in a mock-offended voice.

  "And a side of fries to split," I said finishing her order. "Some things never change."

  "You're not the same," she said.

  "What's different about me?"

  "You're older."

  "We're the same age."

  "I don't mean like that," she said. She paused as a server took our orders; she asked for a side of fries for the table, just like I knew she would. "I mean, more experienced. Mature."

  "You're older, too," I said.

  "We're the same age, but you do not, under any circumstance, tell a woman she's old," she told me teasingly.

  "You have your own place, you're doing great in school, and you have your shit together," I said, leaving out the part about the guy she was supposed to be seeing. It wasn't serious if she was here with me, and I didn't care about him, anyway. I was trying to get my girl back. I didn't owe him shit.

  "I'm glad it looks that way," she said. "I'm just trying to graduate with a degree that I can use one day."

  "You're more than halfway there. You'll have your own practice in no time," I told her. She smiled. We had talked about what we wanted to do when we “grew up.” Mine had always been football, not really a lot of Plan B planning in case that one fell through because it wasn't going to. She had toyed with the idea of being a shrink, eventually opening her own practice.

  "I'm not in a hurry," she said.

  "No?" I asked. She was in a hurry to get out of school, but not to become a professional psychologist. She wanted to travel for a while before settling. I had known that already, but the cross-country road trip she wanted to do was new. I was intrigued; more than that, I wanted to be the one who went with her.

  When our food showed up, I was almost pissed that our conversation would slow down. It didn't even matter what we were talking about, I just wanted to keep doing it. All that stupid, giddy excitement you felt at the beginning of a new relationship? I was feeling it now, but it was better because I already loved the person I was talking to. We already had inside jokes, knew each other's wants and secrets. The night was going great. She was laughing and hadn't seemed nervous the entire time.

  "I don't want to go home," she said when our plates were gone. I was having my second beer, but she was still nursing the white wine she had gotten when we sat down.

  "You want to stop somewhere for drinks first?" I asked.

  "Not my own home, I meant," she said. I grinned, pretty sure she was asking me to take her to my place.

  "No? Nowhere to go tomorrow?" I asked, teasing her a little.

  "Nope. No plans."

  "That means you can sleep in."

  "If I'm tired enough. Depends on what happens after this," she said. She smirked at me from across the table.

  "I'm thinking about heading home."

  "Tiff told me you moved out recently. I'd love to see your new place. Can I?" she asked sweetly.

  I felt warm in the pit of my stomach. Everything up to this point had gone off without a hitch; her wanting to spend more time together was perfect, more than I had been expecting her to want, honestly. She was warming up fast. It was my turn now. I wanted nothing more than to spend the night with her, but it just wasn't realistic thinking I had an in.

  Thinking about her had kept me going when I was away. Her lips, her silky smooth skin, her pussy, I had beat my dick raw wishing it was her when I was gone. She was flirting with me, asking me to take her home, I was so close. I couldn't afford to fuck up.

  "If you don't want anything else, we can head home. Sure," I said. She tried to go dutch, but I didn't let her. If this was technically our first date, then I was doing it right. During the walk to the car, she slipped her arm through mine, gently holding my bicep. In the car on the way to my place, she was mostly silent. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it was loaded. I could feel it.

  I unlocked the door and let her walk in ahead of me when we got to my place.

  "Here it is," I said, flipping the lights on. I hadn't bought any more furniture than I’d had at my apartment, so it was pretty bare. If it turned out that I was staying here longer than I thought, I'd get more stuff. For now, I had a couch, recliner, coffee table, and television. I had a bed in my room and that was it.

  "Where's all your stuff?" she asked.

  "This is it." It felt fucking great having her in my space as she walked around.

  "You're a dropout. Why does this still look like a college student's house?" she said, smiling over her shoulder at me.

  "It's not much, but it's enough. What? You don't like it?" I asked. It was clean and pretty tidy, but she was a girl, and I'd seen her place. She had decor and color in her space. It wasn't really me. I didn't care to put the place together with any more than the bare essentials. I had felt fine about it till now, but if I was going to be bringing Ron here, I needed her to like it, too.

  "Did you pick those drapes yourself?" she asked, pointing to the patterned gray and white drapes I had in the windows.

  "They were on sale."

  "I don't know," she said, "I was expecting something different."

  "Different how?" I asked, coming up behind her.

  "This place feels a little cramped."

  "Cramped?"

  "Small," she said, shooting me a mischievous look over her shoulder. I reached for her hand and pulled her back into me. She hit my chest lightly and turned around, steadying herself with her hands on my shoulders.

  "My house is the only thing about me you can call small. You know that," I said, pulling her into me. She let me, wrapping her arms around my neck.

  "You're such a big guy. I just expected more," she said lightly.

  "I don't have to compensate for anything," I said confidently. "Besides, I'
ve got all the space I need."

  "Yeah?"

  "Once we hit both couches, the bed, and the shower, what's wrong with the floor?" I asked. She blushed looking down. I scooped her up into my arms, so her legs wrapped around me. She yelped, hanging onto me so she didn't fall. "Besides, I haven't even given you the grand tour yet."

  "Start with your bedroom, and we'll go from there," she said.

  We had both had a drink with dinner, nothing close to enough to get us drunk, but I was feeling something. The tension had come to a head. She had her arms around me and my hands were gripping her smooth thighs. Pressed up against me the way she was, there was no way she didn't feel my hard on. I wanted her, too. It was her fault I was all riled up.

  "Not so small now," I said, knowing she could feel me against her thigh.

  "I can almost forgive the fun-sized living room," she whispered, smirking. There was that smart mouth. I had something better she could do with it. I kissed her. Our lips came together, and I groaned; it felt so fucking good. I'd have her lipstick all over me by the time we were done, but I didn't give a fuck.

  I wrapped an arm around her waist and crushed her body into mine. A soft sigh escaped her. Her hands ran through my hair, over my back. My tongue danced with hers, tasting her after such a long time. I went back and forth about whether a year was a long time or not, but right now, it might as well have been an eternity.

  I couldn't kiss her hard enough, deep enough. Her enthusiasm just pushed me harder. I wanted another moan, another sigh. I wanted her nails running down my back. I wanted to be the reason she screamed and threw her head back.

  "Do you know how long I've been waiting to do that?" I asked when we finally parted. She ran her thumb over my lower lip, getting the lipstick that had transferred when we kissed. Her lipstick was pink; I'd be wiping that shit off a few more places once tonight was done. I felt my cock throb thinking about her lips sucking me off.

  "Do it again," she whispered.

  Our lips crashed together, briefly clicking teeth in our desperation. I held the back of her head, fisting her hair as my tongue and lips got reacquainted with hers. I walked us to the wall that led into the hallway, gently pressing Ron into it. I tore my mouth from hers to kiss her neck, to suck the skin above her collarbone in between my teeth. I palmed one of her tits over the dress, kissing her below her ear.

  "Roman," she choked, desperately. I stopped, letting my hand slide down to her waist. I was holding her up against the wall, between her spread legs. I was so hard it hurt. If she told me to stop that was it, but I was praying she didn't. Praying that she wanted what I wanted to give her.

  "Should I stop?" I asked.

  "Don't. I want you," she said.

  I held her close against me, walking us backward. I went through the dark hall to my bedroom, setting her down before I crawled over on top of her. I pulled her dress up, feeling her legs and thighs. White panties hid her pussy from me, so they had to go. She pushed herself up to her knees suddenly. Her dress zipped up the side, and she was pulling it down. I put my hands over hers, stopping her.

  "No. Let me."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Veronica

  Roman peeled my dress off and tossed it onto the floor. My panties were next. His head was buried between my thighs before I could find the words to tell him I wanted to see him, too. I hadn't been celibate this past year, but it didn't matter – my body jerked, and I cried out like I'd never been touched before. Three other men had touched me since Roman had, but I could hardly remember their names right then.

  He alternated steady sucking with long licks over my clit, plunging two fingers into me in and out. His stubble scraped my skin, but it felt good. He knew what I liked, and that beat sleeping with someone new a million times over. The weight of his touch and his skilled lips and tongue were welcome and familiar. My legs were splayed lewdly, and he made animalistic groans as he pleasured me.

  The rise started deep inside my core. It was like he sensed it, too, because he went faster, fucking me with his fingers and lashing my clit with his tongue. I pinched my nipples between my fingers, letting my orgasm wash over me. I spasmed and sagged, panting as Roman's tongue collected my essence.

  He pushed my legs up towards my body, and I froze. I knew what he was about to do but it still sent a thrill through me, a throb through my clit. His finger trailed the line from my opening to my back-door gently pushing against the tight ring. I sighed as he rimmed me with his tongue. Sean had asked incessantly for anal, but I didn't trust him not to hurt me. I didn't trust anyone to know where to touch me and how to fuck me like Roman.

  I tried to look at him. I could just make him out in the darkness, but that didn't change how keenly every move he made felt against my skin. I touched his hair, running my fingers over his cheek to get his attention. He raised his head, letting his thumb take his tongue's place teasing my asshole. I shut my eyes, moaning.

  "Roman, please," I said.

  "I haven't tasted you in a year, babe. I can't help it," he said, his voice heavy with strain.

  "You haven't fucked me in a year," I complained. I was hungry for him. My basest desires longed to feel him pumping between my thighs, hard and rough till he spilled his seed into me.

  "I'm never making that mistake again," he murmured.

  His weight left me suddenly. He walked across the room to turn the light on. I covered my eyes as they adjusted, focusing on him again right as his underwear hit the floor and he kicked them away. My mouth practically watered.

  He looked leaner than he had been a year before, but still all thick, corded muscle and long, strong limbs. Erect, almost purple at the tip, was his cock standing at attention, straight up against his stomach. Masculine strength and god-like endowment.

  He was over me again, holding himself up. I cupped his face, kissing him desperately. I was ready, gushing between my thighs, waiting for him to enter me. What was he waiting for?

  "Ronnie," he said, brushing my hair back and touching his forehead to mine. "I haven't slept with anyone since the last time we were together. I'm clean. I don't want to use a rubber, but I will if you want me to," he said. I felt a flash of shame in myself for letting my want make me forget.

  "I'm still on birth control," I said. "The other..." I didn't want to bring up other men when we were like this. "You're the only person I've fucked skin to skin," I said instead.

  Guilt bloomed in my chest when he kissed me. He had dumped me; what I had done wasn't wrong, but at the time, it hadn't been honest. Not deep and visceral the way it was with Roman. I pushed against his shoulders till he let me roll him to his back, mounting him. My hand barely closed around his cock as I jerked his engorged tip. He groaned, leaning back into the pillow.

  "I get a ride today? Is it my birthday?" he teased. I lined him up with my wet slit and sunk him into me. He gripped my hips, controlling my speed.

  "Slow," he said harshly. He pressed me down onto him inch by agonizing inch till his full length filled me. I started slow like he wanted, grinding my hips into his. Not a spot inside me felt untouched, he filled me so completely. His girth stretched me, filling the space that for years had been only his.

  He sat up suddenly, hitting me at a different angle. I rode him, feeling his lips close around my nipple and his fingers reach back between my cheeks to toy with my rosebud. He was stimulating every part of me. He was so thorough, I whimpered as he gave me everything I didn't need to ask for because he already knew.

  His arm closed around me, and in a flash, I was on my back, his weight bearing me into the mattress. He rocked in and out of me, slow and steady. The long, hard strokes completed me, torturous and sweet at the same time. My opening wept around him, wet beyond belief. I tried to hold off my orgasm, wanting this to last, but I didn't stand a chance against the man who knew my body almost as well as I did. I let the wave knock its way through me, convulsing and crying out.

  He went faster, grunting and thrashing till I felt hi
s orgasm, his cum shooting powerfully from his dick, coating my walls. He sagged into me, panting, and kissed me sweetly before pulling out and rolling onto his back, taking me with him so I rested on his chest. Sated, we both came down from the sexual high, intimately together even though he was no longer inside me.

  I couldn't keep my hands off of him. His skin was slightly damp where one rested on his chest. I always loved that he never waxed his chest or anything like that, being with a guy who had less body hair than I did was a pretty strong turn-off. I felt comfortable pressed up against him, naked after having sex with him for the first time in so long.

  My fingers brushed the trail of coarse hair that led from below his navel to his dick. His hand closed around mine, bringing it to his lips and kissing my knuckles.

  "Gotta give me a minute, babe," he said lightly. I was getting dangerously close to his dick and he wasn't ready to go again. I was just happy to be here. He was right there. His lips, his touch, his body... It had been even better than I could have imagined.

  "I just can't believe it," I said.

  "What?"

  "When you left, I was hell-bent on hating you. I tried to hate everything you were and everything we did," I admitted. His chest rose and fell under my head.

  "I'd do the same thing if I were in your position. I'm sorry I did what I did to you," he said.

  "I thought that if I could find a way to hate you, I'd get over you faster. I never forgot this, though. I couldn't hate it."

  "Sex?"

  "Well, yes," I said, blushing, “but this part too. Just being in your arms again." The arm he had around my waist tightened, and I felt him kiss my forehead.

  "I missed holding you," he said into my hair. His arms made me feel safe – his arms, his specifically. I had been intimate with guys since Roman, but he was... It meant more with him. There was history and friendship there. When we came together, it wasn't just our bodies that connected.

  "You don't know how much I missed this," he said. If it was anywhere close to how much I had missed it, then I had an idea. "Stay with me tonight." It hadn't been a question. It hadn't even been a suggestion. He was telling me to stay the night. I could have said something, that I didn't want to stay with him, or that I didn't like it that he didn't even bother to ask me first. Both would be lies.