Because Beards
Page 11
His sharp, defined, and clean-shaven jaw.
Mine was about ready to hit the floor. Graham, The Beard, Foster had shaved. The whole stadium was shocked. The silence slowly shifted toward angry boos and hisses. My heart would have broke for Graham if it wasn’t busy going ape-shit in my chest.
Clean shaven Graham was gorgeous. His striking face put his perfect ass to shame. Beneath that monstrosity he’d been sporting, he had plump, full lips, and a dimple that hollowed his left cheek. I wanted to drag my teeth across both.
“He shaved.” I was still shouting at Mandy.
“Yes, it would seem he did. You wanna lower your voice about it?” She shot me a look. A few other people pursed their lips and grimaced in my direction. I squinched my face up in return then stuck my tongue out when they turned away.
“Do you think he…” I trailed off when I realized how vane it sounded.
“Shaved for you?” Mandy had no problem finishing the sentence. “Probably. It sure as shit wasn’t a career move.”
That earned me far less friendly looks from the girls around us. I didn’t care. Those bitches could be all kinds of angry. I had Graham. Glorious, gorgeous, and completely clean Graham. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
He played like a god. He played like David Beckham in his prime or Cristiano Ronaldo. It had me knocking my knees together far too frequently. The Timbers were up by three goals, two of which were scored by Graham himself. The more on fire he was, the more the crowd bought into the beardless wonder too.
Sweat dripped down his forehead and shone on his arms and legs. His jersey was plastered to his back as we were all treated to sight of him running everywhere. Because he was everywhere, I almost got whiplash stuck to him as I was.
When the final whistle blew, the crowd erupted. The lumberjack disappearance from earlier seemed to be completely forgiven thanks to the massive win. The sound chattered through my bones and up into my teeth but it paired perfectly with the pure need coursing through my veins. Grown men, screaming, celebrating, muscles flexed, and then jumping on each other was downright primal and surprisingly hot.
Mandy and I were still chanting with the crowd, smiling ear to ear when Graham broke away. A few cameras tried to stop him but he simply darted out around them, as nimble as he’d been on the field.
My heartbeat ratcheted up and my breathing went shallow. Watching him run could do that to a girl. In that moment I think it became my new favorite hobby.
Then I realized he was cutting a path in my direction. He had to slow when he got to the random people milling about on the sidelines but he jostled them aside easily enough. I stopped breathing all together when only the metal railing separated us. It took him a moment or two to find his footing in his cleats but then he hurdled over it in one hell of a smooth move, bringing him and I face to face.
His rugged, abtastic torso was in front of me. His drenched shirt clung to every single inch of his perfect chest. He shifted his weight side to side, no doubt an anxious movement, but it highlighted the definition of his thighs. I wanted to touch every inch, lick every inch.
And then I looked up.
Graham Foster truly was a god. He’d kept his hipster haircut, long on top and short on the sides, and it fell haphazardly where it wasn’t slicked back from sweat. His eyes seemed more green without the dark reflection of his beard, and his jaw was most definitely chiseled from stone.
“Hi.” His smooth voice came from the most luscious shaped lips just before he smiled the most panty-shredding smile I’d ever seen. That he’d been in hiding seemed a really cruel and heinous joke.
“Hi.” I barely managed the word.
“I’m gonna kiss you now.”
I started to nod but it only took a moment for him to crash into me and stop me from doing anything but melting into him all together. Cheers erupted from the stadium and shrill cat calls too. I smiled wide while I breathed him in.
Kissing him was better than Christmas, the smell of rain on warm pavement and fresh baked cookies combined. His lips knew how to work it, tumbling against mine but also owning them. His tongue crept between my lips, gently exploring. Graham grunted into my open mouth as his big hands wrapped around me and yanked me to his sticky chest. The dampness spoke to my animal instincts right along with the salty taste of him. I couldn’t help myself when I curled my claws into his chest.
“Still turn your stomach?” he asked, his lips brushing against mine.
“For a very different fucking reason,” I murmured before leaning back in to explore his mouth a little more.
“Good.” His word was more a breath in between our fevered kisses.
When I thought I might melt into a puddle or off the face of the earth completely, he picked me up and cradled me to his chest as if he knew. He kissed me hard one more time then took off, dodging people filtering out of the stadium. When we got to the stairs, another cheer erupted for us and the crowd parted. Graham ran the stairs as easily with me in his arms as he probably did without.
“It’s like they know how desperate I am to be inside you,” he said low and husky in my ear just before he bit it. There was a chance I was going to come right there in his arms.
Once we got up to the top of the stairs he bolted against the flow of traffic to a players only entrance, security stepped swiftly aside to let him pass. We made two quick turns down successive hallways to find ourselves in a dark tunnel lit only by distant sunlight.
He set me down then slammed me up against the wall, his lips coming back to mine like they’d never left. His hands were everywhere, peeling up my t-shirt and gripping at my ass. Mine were desperate to do the same. When the wet fabric of his jersey kept getting in the way, I yanked it clean off. Graham snarled then returned the favor.
“Is anyone gonna see?” I asked panting.
“Don’t think so,” he answered as he dove down to kiss the swell of my breasts. “Not that I’d mind. They can watch me fuck you in the center circle for all I care.”
“Are they mad about the beard?” I couldn’t help myself.
“Are you?” He roughly yanked my tits up out of the soft bra cups, and I arched against the cool cinderblock wall up into his hands.
“No.” I drug out the last letter like it was a howl to the moon.
“Then I don’t fucking care.”
He latched onto one nipple while he pinched on the other.
“I needed you, Livy. Couldn’t sleep, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t play without you. Tell me you needed me too?” He kissed down my body and fell to his knees.
“I missed everything about you.” I was gasping for air against the cool blocks.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and yanked them and my underwear off in one quick movement.
“Liar,” he shot back just before he latched onto my clit. I moaned wildly, and the echo bounced down the empty hallway. “You don’t miss the beard one bit.”
The puffs of his laughter against my pussy were enough to drive me wild. I bucked my hips up and he leisurely lapped me before pulling back. With his finger, he traced the skin that had worn the sharpie drawing of a cat far too long.
“Minx?” He was talking directly to my clit. “You ready to meet Beast?”
He didn’t hesitate and in one swift move, Graham stood and shoved his shorts down, notching between my thighs precisely. He pushed into me hard and fast, and I screamed again clawing my hands into his chest. He cried out too, pushing hard and fast up into me and almost knocking me off my tip-toes.
“You’re big,” I whined.
“And you’re tight,” he shot back as his hands wrapped around my thighs and lifted me. “I like tight almost as much as I like you, Livy.”
The full weight of our bodies rested against my shoulders on the scratchy concrete. As soon as he started thrusting, I knew it was going to mark me, and the idea made me drag my fingernails down his back. He groaned again, adding to the wild cacophony of sound.
Over and over, we moved with each other. I closed my eyes, relishing the feel of blissfully good sex and the gratification of finally being together. I started repeating his name in time with his thrusts. They started as low, hushed whispers but quickly escalated to ragged shouts and screeches as my orgasm neared.
It seemed like the tunnel was getting brighter but that had to just be my orgasm detonating my insides. Graham had been able to do that before I had his mouth and cock claiming every inch of me. I was about to shatter, and my senses were slipping away one by one as I went.
Then he shoved up in me and I actually felt him coming. His dick twitched inside me as heat flooded into me. It triggered me and I howled as my body went a little rigid and my joints unhinged. My body shuddered against him in uncontrollable twitches.
“Fucking shit, my little Minx.” He was breathing hard and his voice was a fragile thing.
My eyes were still closed when I finally found words. “Worth shaving for?”
“I’d shave anything in the whole wide world if it meant I could stick it inside you,” Graham purred back.
“That sounds like a challenge.” I rolled my hips against him and felt cum drip down me.
“It’s more of a proposition. Call it a…”
“Answer, Graham.” Some unknown female voice yelled, finishing the sentence unexpectedly. My eyes split open. “Come on, answer whether this was a publicity stunt or something different.”
The bright lights of a portable camera showered down on us. My arms immediately shot to cover my rucked up tits. Graham moved a second later to cover me with his body and smash me up against the wall.
“What the fuck are you doing down here?” he roared.
“Looking for answers,” the journalist replied. “To the million dollar question.” She smiled as she raked her eyes over the two of us. I’d turned the darkest shade of red imaginable and curled into Graham’s shoulder. “Well, I guess it’s actually the six million dollar question, but still… Why throw it all away?” She shoved her hand on her hip. “Please tell me it wasn’t for a girl,” she remarked, her voice thick with disdain.
“And if it was?” Graham tried to find a way to hide me further from prying eyes.
The reporter smiled her wicked smile and my world washed cleaned out. I was only grounded by the firm muscles beneath my fingertips and the bright white light of the news camera that blinded me. She still wore her smirk while she answered, “Then this is getting bumped from Sports straight to front page news.”
About Ace Gray
Ace Gray is a self-proclaimed troublemaker and connoisseur of both the good life and fairy tales. After a life-long love affair with books, she undertook writing the novel she wanted to read, which culminated in her first release STRICTLY BUSINESS then the remainder of the MIXING BUSINESS WITH PLEASURE SERIES and now the TWISTED FAIRY TALE series. Often she is referred to as the creator of adult Highlights and the Oprah of D. Insert winky face emoji here…
When she’s not writing, she owns her own business teaching Pilates and slings brews at Deschutes Brewery. She loves rainy days, shellac manicures, coffee shops and bourbon—all of which are bountiful in her adopted home of Portland, OR where she runs amok with her chef husband and two huskies.
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Arie
He’s built, he’s hot, and he’s totally in my way. “Move,” I urge mentally, even though I’ve never been successful with telekinesis. Part of me wants to stay stuck behind him so I can keep looking at his ass. It’s perfect – taut, sexy, and it moves in such an enticing way when he shifts his weight to do something to the bicycle chain.
But the other part of me – the part that needs to just get into the supermarket and buy an emergency stash of flour – really needs him to stand aside. After all, one does not simply work on one’s bike in the automatic entrance doors of the grocery store.
Myler speaks into my ear via Bluetooth. “Arie, hurry. You need to get back here so we can finish the last batches.”
“I’m trying.” My voice rises as I sigh in frustration. “I’m stuck behind Lance Armchair Biker who’s, like, blocking my egress.”
Shit. Did he hear me? Well, maybe I said it louder than necessary. Oops! He glares at me, but when our eyes lock, a spark of attraction so fierce and powerful surges through me that I almost gasp. If his butt was amazing, his face is even more gorgeous. All planes and lines and dark eyes. Holy fuck, he’s sexy. He has perfect proportions, chiseled cheekbones, luscious lips. Strong jaw. Green eyes and a smooth forehead. And that beard! It’s short and trimmed, barely more than scruff, but on him, it looks so incredibly sexy that I almost die.
The thing is, I don’t feel this just because he’s hot. There’s something about him that calls to me. It’s like I know him, or something – even though I don’t. I know how corny and stupid that sounds, but I can’t help staring.
He holds my gaze. “Ingress,” he says. “When you want in, it’s called ingress.” His voice is low, and as his eyes move up and down my body, assessing, bold, I blush hard. He makes it sound so dirty…in a wicked, delicious way.
“Thanks for the grammar lesson,” I say. I don’t want to let him know how he’s affected me, because he probably doesn’t feel the same, so I act cool. “But, you know, and someone needed to say it, you’re sort of creating a fire hazard. If nobody can get past you, what happens in an emergency?” I wouldn’t talk this way to a client or to my mom, but this guy – I want to push his buttons. I want him to push mine.
I raise my eyebrow and cross my arms over my chest, tossing my red-gold curls over my shoulders.
“Vocabulary.” His voice is smooth, and he twists the pedal on the bike while grabbing the chain.
“What?” His hands are so strong, his fingers long and quick.
He doesn’t answer, but bends back down to do something again with the bike chain. I don’t know what someone as sexy as he is – in a suit that expensive – would even be doing with such a ratty-ass shit-trap of a bicycle. I’m not the only irritated party. I can see a few people waiting to leave the store, three carts backed up like a train, the lady in front starting to blow out her breath and tap her slip-on sandal on the ground.
He stands up and says, “There. All fixed.” He gives an apologetic wave to the carts, wheels the bike out of the walking path, and looks directly at me. “You wanna put on your helmet, Sugar, and I’ll take you for a ride?” This sounds even dirtier than his last comment. It’s so inappropriate, so utterly forward, and so…hot. My heart hammers in my chest.
“Where you gonna take me?” My voice comes out lower than I mean, sultry. His eyes are locked onto mine again.
“The library. A person who doesn’t even know the difference between grammar and vocabulary needs a lesson indeed.” He smirks and props the bike up on the kickstand.
“But. I.” This is all I can manage. First of all, he has some nerve insulting me. And second of all – or maybe this is really the first reason, he was supposed to say something flirty. Then I say, “I know the difference. I was only not able to think of the right word because I was thinking of something else.” My face gets hot.
He laughs. “I’d like to know what.” He grins, then gestures to someone hovering near a display of discount patio chairs and charcoal briquettes, and a teenager wearing a “Golden Wok Delivery” apron takes the handlebars. “I got the chain working,” he tells the kid, “but you’re going to need to take this bike to a repair shop. The teeth are worn down and it’s loose.”
“Dude, you saved my life. Thanks.” The kid gives off a waft of sesame oil and egg rolls. He hangs a sagging plastic bag over the handlebars, gets onto the bike, waves, and pedals off.
My man examines his fingers – black grease marks. He frowns, looks around.
I dig into my purse and pull out a clean batc
h of brown napkins from Starbucks. “Here.” I offer them to him and as he takes them, our fingertips brush, sending a shock of sparks directly into my belly. “That was, um, sweet of you. I didn’t know you were helping someone. Otherwise I would have been more…” I give him a shy smile.
“So, I’m playing bike repair man for the afternoon. What’s your story?” He smiles back.
I look into his eyes and I’m gone. His eyes are green and hazel, bright and gorgeous. I want to touch his beard. I want to kiss his lips.
He puts his hand on my arm, and the feel of his fingers makes it hard to breathe properly. “You look like you need something important.”
“I need flour,” I say. “Three bags.” His cologne drifts over to me on the breeze and I lean in slightly, as if to smell him. I can barely resist the urge to put my finger onto his cheekbones, my mouth onto his.
He’s still holding my arm, and I look down at it, and he does too, and then he lets go, as if he just noticed. I feel an immediate loss. I liked his firm grip. I want those fingers on my body again.
“Three bags.” A smile tugs at those sexy lips. “And exactly what –”
A horn honks and startles me and I jump. A voice calls out, “Dude, we gotta get moving.” There’s a BMW at the curb, and another suited guy driving. This one is cute, too, but blond where my guy is dark.
My guy looks up. “In a minute, Nate.” He turns to me again, opens his mouth to speak, but as he does, Myler’s voice explodes into my ear. “Arie! For the love of everything holy, you have to get back. All the lights went off and I don’t know how to find the fuse box and – did you get the flour? Arie?”
The job! My stomach lurches. I cannot mess this up.
All I can think of is getting back to my bakery. “I have to go!” I exclaim. “You can keep the napkins. Here are some more, even.” I grapple with my purse, shove a few more into his hands. “Good luck with everything and bikes and it was, you know, nice meeting you.”