by S. J. Bishop
The two girls I was talking to looked at me with their fake blue contacts and dyed hair, and I could see they were ready to run out the door with me.
"Sounds good to us," they said, each one running a delicate hand up and down my arm, stroking my tattoos. I was just swinging my jacket over my arms when the woman on stage started to sing. I stopped what I was doing and looked at her. My shoulders stiffened, and I dropped my jacket back onto the chair.
"Aren't we leaving?" one of the blondes asked.
"Not yet."
I listened as the woman belted out a rendition of an old song I recognized from the radio. Each note that carried through the air landed on my ears like the soothing tones of a saxophone. I'd never known anyone who could sing like that. My body shook like a wave had just tried to bury me. Her voice pressed against me, warm wind on a cold day. It felt like soft electric kisses buzzing up and down my skin. The harder she sang, the harder they kissed.
One of the blondes tugged at my arm. I couldn't remember her name and didn't think it mattered anyway. "Are we going?" she asked. I shook my head, grabbed my coat, and walked away from them, closer to the stage. I could hear them both gasp behind me but couldn't have cared less. They had big fake boobs and that plastic look that men today seemed to love. They'd find someone else to lay them tonight.
The song ended, and the woman stepped off the stage.
"Hey," I said, approaching her. I could feel her eyes moving over my body, checking me out. "You're amazing. I'm Lars. Can I buy you a drink?" I offered her my hand, and when she took it, a strange buzz ran up and over my skin. When she let it go, the buzz disappeared.
"That depends," she said, her blues eyes glinting playfully at me.
"On what?"
"On how good you are at darts."
For a moment, I was taken aback. "You want to play darts?" I asked.
"Why not? It's Saturday night, and I've got nothing better to do. Yet."
I smiled back at her and led the way to the dart boards at the back of the bar. It was around one and starting to clear out just a bit. The lightweights were all heading home, and we got a dart board easily.
"You haven't told me your name," I said.
"Guess," she teased.
I looked at her and smiled. I liked this game she was playing.
"Maria."
She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.
"Kaylee?"
"Not even close."
"Do I get a hint?"
"Maybe after you get your first bullseye," she said, then sent one of the darts sailing past my nose. It landed just off center, a half inch from the bullseye. She smiled alluringly at me, her liquid blue eyes swimming at me through the dim lights of the bar.
"You're good," I told her. "But guess what? I'm better." I sailed my dart to the heart of the board, where it landed perfectly in the center. Her jaw dropped, and I couldn't help laughing.
"Name?" I asked.
She turned toward me, stepping closer so that I could feel her breath on my face. It smelled like violets.
"Best two out of three?" she asked, purring in my ear as she leaned in closer so I could hear her through the music and the people talking.
I touched her cheek, unable to resist the lure of her, and was shocked at the softness of her skin. I almost pulled away, afraid the coarseness of my own skin might hurt her—football hadn't been exactly kind to my hands, but then again, neither had my last job. She reached up with hands as soft as the rest of her and placed one over mine, keeping it on her cheek.
"I'm gonna learn your name tonight if it kills me."
Her moist, pink lips turned up at the corners. "I'm not afraid of you."
I felt my body tense and withdrew my hand. "That's because you don't know me."
Her eyes shifted, studying me, and I suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Tell you what. Let's play winner take all."
She lifted her eyebrows. "What is it you want to take?"
"You."
She blushed and turned away, but not before I caught the look in her eye. An hour and five drinks later, she pulled the last dart out of the board.
"I guess you win," she said.
"So, are you gonna live up to your end and tell me your name?"
She hesitated. "Clarissa," she finally replied.
"Clarissa." I let the name settle on my lips. Now that I knew her name, it seemed so obvious. How could she have been anything other than a Clarissa? "Wanna go outside with me for a smoke?"
"I don't smoke."
"Neither do I." She smiled, and we headed for the front door.
3
Clarissa
My heart thumped once in my chest as we stepped out into the cold and huddled against the side of the building, where the wind couldn't whip us quite so heavily. It was dark where we stood. I could hear people walking in and out of the bar, but they couldn't see us.
Lars put his arms around me, and I instantly felt my body warm. All night long, I'd wondered what it would feel like to have those arms wrapped around me, and now I knew. It felt like curling up inside a blanket, safe and warm and intimate. I couldn't help wondering if his lips were as warm as the rest of him. I stood on my tiptoes trying to kiss him, but the alcohol washed over me and made me slip. I giggled like a school girl as he caught me before I hit the ground and lifted me back up with ease.
"You're drunk," he said.
"So are you."
He smiled back at me and then leaned forward, carefully placing his lips against mine. A deep ache boiled up inside me, wetting my thighs. I opened my mouth wider, tasting his masculinity on my tongue. I swallowed it, already wanting more.
"You're delicious," I purred.
"That's my line," he said, his voice growing husky. He pressed his core harder against mine. I heard people moving just around the corner and was shocked to discover that, rather than frightening me, I thrilled at the idea of discovery. I didn't know whether it was the alcohol or the cold January air, but I was filled with a sudden, savage desire I had never known before. It clawed its way out of me, pounding so hard in my blood that I was sure it would leave a bruise.
Lars sensed my hunger and reached down, his strong hands resting gently between my thighs as his tongue twirled inside my mouth. He massaged my sex, sending ripples of pleasure up and down my spine as he stroked me over my jeans. The ache between my thighs deepened, and the fabric began to hurt as my pussy clenched, my want for him turning now to need.
"I'm gonna fuck you," Lars growled in my ear, sounding like a wild beast. I inhaled his musky scent, letting it fill my lungs and stream into every orifice of my body.
Laughter rang out across the night, not far from where we stood. The side of the bar only provided minimum coverage, and I couldn't help the undulations of arousal that filled me every time I heard someone draw close to us. The chilled air mixed with the heat of our bodies, making me feel at one moment like I was in an ice cooler and the next like I was jumping into a sauna.
"Are you sure you don't want to go somewhere warmer?" I asked.
"Fuck warmer," he grunted, his voice husky. I felt all animal. Every trace of human modesty and inhibition was leaving me, only to be replaced with wild carnal desire. The savage in me was taking over, and I let it.
"I can't wait for warmer. Can you?" He groaned, licking my neck with his thick, pink tongue. Its rough edges traced the line of my neck from my collar bone to my chin, leaving a trail of heat that was quickly replaced with a crisp, raw chill. The chill only drew more attention to the parts of me that were still hot.
Steam rose off my thighs, and suddenly, I knew I couldn't wait. Lars was right. I needed him now, before another second went by. I moved my hand to his zipper, answering his question as I opened him up to me. My hand, so much smaller than his own, reached inside his pants and stroked him with feather-light fingers. His mass jolted awake, caressing my skin with his firm, elastic tip. I pushed his pants to the ground. They pooled around his ankles. I was afraid
for a second that the chill in the air might have some negative consequences on the solid mass bumping against me, but when I reached down to touch it, he was as hot and stiff as ever.
An ice cube ran up my spine as a gust of wind rushed past us, followed immediately by the heat of his breath as he kissed my neck. It was a strange sensation, and it only made my excitement grow. Voices drifted past us, no more than fifty feet away. All they had to do was come around the corner. I lifted one leg and wrapped it around his waist as he fumbled with my zipper.
I couldn't breathe. My heart pounded with his. Finally, my pants joined his at the bottom of the alley floor. The cold air didn't affect me like I'd thought it would. The lower half of my body was so hot, the air actually felt good against my skin, cooling the sauna that had accumulated between my thighs. The tip of his cock nudged me, bumping against my clit as he began to play with me.
My head fell back, enjoying the feel of his dark pink tip as he moved in slow circles around my opening. I waited eagerly for him to enter me. When I saw that he meant to taunt me for a while, I grabbed his ass with both hands and lowered my lips to the salty-sweet skin of his neck. I took a pinch of skin between my teeth and bit. Not too hard, just hard enough to get his attention.
"Ouch!" he grunted and slapped my ass, leaving a tingle on my skin where his hand had just been.
"Do it," I begged. He stared hard at me a moment, his dark eyes digging into me, then suddenly he gripped both my arms with his hands and pushed me hard up against the brick wall. I spread my legs for him as he bumped my hole three times with his erection then entered me.
His length filled my hole, and my opening tightened around the base of his cock as he bottomed out inside me. He began to pound into me, not gently, but with the savage animal desire we were both feeling. It was raw and wild and just what I needed.
I moaned loudly and heard a few people giggle around the corner from us. I thought one of them might've peeked at us through the darkness, but I didn't give a shit. It was too dark to see our faces anyway.
"Fuck me!" I howled.
My hips began to bump against his, making loud slapping sounds when they came together. He let go of my hands, and I immediately wrapped them around his ass, grabbing hold of his tight muscles, feeling them as they worked to move his cock in and out of me. I groaned loudly, and Lars bit my ear, making me squeal.
"Tit for tat," he smirked.
His mass was strong and thick inside me. I could smell our sex as it wafted up through the night air. The half-moon shined brightly overhead, and for a second, I saw the fierce lust in his eyes as he moved inside me. Our lips found their way together again as we continued to pulse our lower bodies against each other. His warm, wet tongue reminded me how warm and wet my pussy was right now. He continued to slide easily in and out of me, like my cave had lathered itself up with oil while it was waiting for him to come in.
Suddenly, his mass grew inside me. I felt my body stiffen. Knowing he was about to explode made my own head erupt with a pleasure that was almost gluttonous. He moved faster and harder against me. My back arched; my pussy was on fire. I inhaled his masculinity and held it inside me, feeding off of it like a hungry animal.
Then the world around us blew up. One minute we were in a dark alleyway, the next we were flying to the moon. Everything around us burned and brightened. I'd never felt anything as satisfying as when his juices filled me. We stood together a moment against the wall, letting the darkness envelop us. Finally, he pulled away.
"Clarissa," he said, his eyes burning brightly. "I told you I'd learn your name."
"Yes," I teased back, "but that's all you're going to learn. My first name."
He smiled slyly. "I don't get to learn anything else about you?"
"Let's keep some of the mystery," I purred, then redressed and went to brave the night air, alone once again.
4
Lars
I got to Giants Stadium early and hung around with the other guys on the field waiting for Coach Walker to come up. Brett Walker was the best man I'd ever known, hands down. Except maybe for Ash. When I'd first joined the Giants at the start of the year, the other guys had given me a hard time. I was the only one who hadn't gotten drafted out of college. Hell, I'd never even been to college. They'd fucked with me for a while, costing me fine after fine every time I punched one of them.
I hadn't quite learned to control my temper yet, and my $450,000 rookie salary quickly evaporated, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. I'd sworn to myself that I'd never be as broke as my mother and I were when I was growing up. The money was the whole reason I'd gotten into football. I didn't know any other way to make the type of money I'd made working for Angelo—at least, not with my skill set. Football was the one thing I could do well, and I hadn't done it since high school. When I'd shown up for tryouts, I was almost surprised that I was still good at it. Hell, I was great at it.
The hazing from the guys probably would have gone on until I'd punched one too many of them and gotten thrown out of football if Coach Walker hadn't taken me under his wing.
"You're a lot like I was when I was your age," he'd said. He was forty and fit. Attractive not just for an older man, but for a guy of any age.
"I doubt that, Coach."
"Oh yeah? I know more than you think."
I'd stared at him, not quite getting what he was saying. He couldn't know about my past. I'd never been in jail, well, never been convicted, and when I'd cut ties with Angelo, he'd let me go with good graces. No one was looking for me. It might be true that the mob didn't like to let people out, but I'd been little more than a henchman in it, not exactly the fucking Godfather. I was a ball breaker and delivery boy, I didn't know much about the top dogs and couldn't give the cops what they needed to put Angelo away. Even if I did, I still wouldn't have. Angelo knew that.
"I'm not sure what you mean, Coach."
"Young. Impetuous. Violent. That sum you up?"
"In a way."
"Listen, Lars. I knocked my ex-wife up when she was eighteen and I was twenty-two. I loved her, but she hated me. Now, my daughters hate me. I never knew my father, so I guess I didn't know how to be a good dad. I was always better at football. I knocked around a little when I was a teenager, nothing big, just small-time gang shit. I did a few drugs. I was poor as shit. You getting the picture now?"
I nodded, stunned at Coach Walker's openness with a guy he barely knew.
"How'd you straighten up?" I asked, thinking I might already know the answer.
"Football," he said. "It worked for me, and it can work for you. But first, you've gotta stop bashing in the guys every time they rile you up. They're just messing with you because they know it gets to you. Learn to take a joke."
And I had. Sort of. Now, when the guys ribbed me about not going to college, I laughed with them, even though there was a part of me that still wanted to knock my fist into their face. But whatever.
"Where the hell is Walker?" Matt Ford shouted, rising up off the bench and snapping me out of my reverie.
"He'll be here," one of the other guys shouted.
"If he expects us to be on time for practice, then he should be too, or else they should fire his tired old ass."
I jumped up, anger boiling inside me. Several of the guys jumped between us.
"Shut your fucking mouth," I yelled.
"What? Are you gonna punch me? Go ahead. I'll be happy to let the commission take your money again. I've always wondered how many times a player can get fined for physical contact with another player before they boot you off the team. Rookie."
"He's not worth it, man," Phil Stanley said.
I fell back and took a deep breath. Phil let out a long, low whistle, as did several of the other guys. I thought they were being wiseasses, but then Phil nudged me.
"Check it out, man. Look at the vision that is walking toward us right now."
I turned my head and felt the look of shock fall across my face. Clarissa.
&n
bsp; She stopped when she saw me, mock surprise registering on her face, as if she wasn't here looking for me. It was weird seeing her here. I hadn't stopped thinking about her since that night outside the bar. I'd never had sex so hot, and I had been kicking myself for not getting her number. But still...what was she doing here? How had she even found me? Sure, I'd helped the Giants on their way to the Super Bowl we were in next week, but I didn't think girls knew anything about football. She hadn't seemed to recognize me at the bar.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, going up to her. "I mean, I appreciate a good stalker and all but...it's a little strange." I was trying to keep it light, but I didn't like the idea that she'd followed me here, days after fucking her. She'd been the best I'd ever had, but if she was here now it meant she wanted more. And I didn't do more.
Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes flashed in anger. "I'm not here to see you. I had no idea you were on the Giants."
"So, you're just here for fun, is that it?" I snapped.
"Lars, I'm not here to see you. I haven't even thought about you since that night."
Her words hit me hard, probably because I hadn't stopped thinking about her. "Whatever, psycho stalker. I don't do relationships, okay? So you can just go back to wherever you stalked over here from."
"I'm not fucking stalking you, asshole." Our voices were getting loud, and I could tell the guys were trying to listen.
Suddenly, Coach Walker appeared from the field ramp. He grinned at me and started walking toward us. I tensed up, knowing Coach didn't like our girlfriends out on the field. Not that Clarissa was my girlfriend, far from it, but I wasn't sure that would fare any better with Coach.
"I see you've met my daughter," Coach said. "What are you doing here?" He was looking at Clarissa. I felt my jaw slowly dropping as understanding sunk in—Clarissa had been telling the truth. And I'd been an utter asshole to her for no reason. It was seldom that I got embarrassed, but I felt the heat creep into my cheeks when I looked at her.