His lips quirk into that take-no-prisoners, pirate smile I know so well. But his gaze softens as he cups my cheek. And then ever so slowly he kisses me. The kiss is soft, tender.
It shouldn’t have much of an impact. And yet it sets me ablaze. Who knew he had that in him?
But soon, the kiss turns incendiary. His tongue tangles with mine. Wanting more, I curl my hand around his neck and kiss him back hungrily, furiously with every repressed longing of mine. As I kiss him, I grind against him, communicating what I need. When the heat of his cock presses back, I go up in flames.
“Please.” No clue what I’m asking for.
But he does. His big hands mold my ass, presses my pussy against his long, hard cock. Hungry for what he’s dishing out, I rock against him, and his cock hits my sweet spot. “Oh, God. Yes.” I groan.
I breathe him in. Hard to say which scent turns me on more—the fresh pine scent of his soap or the randy, earthy male of him. I nibble every inch of skin my lips can reach. He tastes of sin and heat and delicious man.
His arms tighten around me. His hands knead my ass, my side, my breasts. “You’re so fucking hot, Ellie. I can’t get enough of you.”
Returning the favor, I palm as much of his ass as I can reach and squeeze. A thrill runs through me when he grunts in my mouth.
“Make love to me, Brock.”
I don’t have to ask him twice. He rolls me over until I’m lying on my back.
He strokes a finger up and down my clit. “You’re wet.”
And about to get wetter. “Uh-huh.”
“I love your body.”
“You do?” I’m confused. The women he’s gone out with? They were all curvy. Granted, I’m not rail thin, but I have few curves to call my own.
“Yes.” His irises glow crystal bright. He leans in to nip my waist, rasp his tongue over a hip. When he brushes a rough thumb over my sensitive clit, I almost come off the bed.
“Easy, babe.” He lays a strong hand over my trembling belly. “We have all night.”
Yes, that long I can promise him.
He comes off the bed and kneels on the floor. And then he widens my legs and pulls me toward him. I’m spread eagled before him and served up as his feast. His tongue finds my aching pearl. All warm breath, he suckles, gently at first, more insistently when I moan. Oh, sweet God in heaven. Beneath his clever tongue, I writhe, clench my hands on the sheet while I fight the urge to beg for more.
“You’re beautiful here too, Ellie. Such a pink and pretty pussy. He slips a finger into me. “So tight. How long has it been?”
Oh, hell. I’m not ‘fessing up to that. It’s too embarrassing. “A while.” I roll my hips, silently asking for more.
He stops what he’s doing and stares at me. “How long, Ellie?”
I don’t want to share that with him, but he won’t go on until I do. “Law school. Okay?”
“That must have been what? Three years ago?”
“More like four,” I say, peeved about this interrogation.
His brows knit. “Why?”
“I have a kid, Parker.” I huff out.
His smile would make all the heavens in angel sing. And a few devils in hell. “Yes. I know.”
“It’s not like I could leave her alone and go off on a date.”
“I want to apologize.” He pulls out the finger and traces a circle around my clit.
I squirm wanting more. “What for? It wasn’t your fault.” Tired of this conversation, I urge his hand back to the task. “Now, go on.”
He slides the first finger back into me, and then a second. He thrusts gently as if he fears hurting me.
But that’s not what I want. Knowing what he’s capable of, I urge, “Harder. Faster.”
A light glows deep in his eyes, as my panting echoes in the room. I bite my lip to keep from begging him, even though it’s too late.
The blood pounds through my veins as he keeps up the relentless pace. Everything in me quakes. My core tightens. A flame rises within me, threatening to burn out of control. I’m a mere millisecond from orgasm when he does something with his fingers, and I come harder than I ever have in my whole life. While I’m still shaking, he stretches over my head and grabs a packet from his night table. I watch silently while he slips the condom over his cock.
His fingers graze my thighs, and his mouth follows. Once more he teases my folds apart, finds my core again, leans down to suckle me. “Ready?”
Unable to say a word, I can only nod. The power of speech has deserted me.
The excitement builds once more when he circles my pearl with his tongue and laps up every drop. Shameless, I wrap my hand around his head and grind into his greedy mouth. Everything tightens in me, and I keen short, desperate cries. I can’t believe I’m coming again. He spears me with his tongue and I come apart, squirming on the bed, screaming his name.
I’m still lost in the mindless aftermath, when he rises above me, presses his massive erection against my opening and thrusts. The pleasure is so intense, I arch off the bed, moaning.
As sweat pours off him unto my heated skin, he fucks me with a hard and steady rhythm. His breathing tells me he’s in control. The bed’s bouncing below us, so I curl my legs around his hips to keep me tethered to him. When his pace grows faster and he sinks deeper, I clutch his arms. He shifts to a slower speed, pulls out and turns me face down. Thrusting into my pussy from behind, his hand reaches around to find my pearl and then, God help me, he flicks my clit. I scream and convulse around his cock.
It takes him no time to follow. Sweaty, bellowing hard breaths, he collapses on top of me. “You’re mine now, Ellie Adams. I’m never going to let you go.”
I don’t have the breath to deny him.
Chapter 13
Brock
IN THE MORNING WHEN I WAKE UP, SHE’S GONE. Her absence is unexpected since I usually head out before her. But maybe there was something at the office she needed to do.
At the Outlaws’ compound, my focus is not on practice, but on the things we did last night. But I pay enough attention to the drills that nobody notices. Rather than join the team for dinner, I rush home to her. I want more time with Ellie. More time with the woman who’s rapidly becoming an indispensable part of my life.
I walk in the door, expecting to see her, but she’s not there. Could something have happened? She’d been upset over whatever happened on Thursday. So maybe it’s more of the same? I dial her number to find out if everything’s okay, but she doesn’t pick up.
Tuesday’s my day off and I’m to go house hunting. Before heading off, I call Ellie again with the same outcome. I’m worried enough to give Marty a call. If anybody would know that something happened to her, it would be him. Using the excuse I’m checking in, I casually inquire about Ellie, but Marty’s response tells me nothing’s wrong with her. So why isn’t she returning my calls?
Briefly, I entertain the idea of dropping by the sports agency. After all, it wouldn’t be an unusual thing for an athlete client to do. But I don’t have the time. Not with the number of houses her realtor has lined up for me. As it turns out, she’s a real gem. She’s found exactly what I’m looking for. Big houses with big yards where Butch can run free. They’re gorgeous, really, any one of them would do. Problem is, none of them has the thing I want most—Eleanor. After I bid goodbye to the realtor, I head back to the condo, hoping against hope that Ellie will be there, but she’s not.
Being a glutton for punishment, I call her again. But like the last fifteen times, she doesn’t pick up.
Much as I don’t want to, I have to face the facts. What we did Sunday night meant nothing to her. Or maybe it’d been too much.
After all those years of longing for her, I’d ridden her all night long. Done my level best to satisfy myself, without asking once if she wanted it as well. She hadn’t complained, but I should have paid more attention to her needs.
I really fucked up this time.
Over the next three days, rathe
r than head home after practice, I remain at the compound with the excuse of watching game tapes. Anything to avoid walking into an empty apartment. But when the game tapes roll, I don’t absorb anything in them. I’m too busy lashing myself over what I did. Or rather, didn’t do.
I’d promised I’d make it good for her and then I’d become a ravening beast. Taking, not giving. Pleasuring myself, not her. No wonder she doesn’t want more of the same. After the way I behaved, she probably regrets what we’d done, much as she had thirteen years ago. More than likely she thinks she made a huge mistake. So she’s taking the easy way out and not coming back to the condo at all.
Saturday finally arrives, and with it, travel day since it’s an out-of-town game. We win against a particularly difficult team, but it doesn’t bring the elation the first win did.
“What’s wrong with you, man?” Trevor, my seat flight buddy, asks. “You should be ecstatic. We won.”
Out of all the players on the team, he’s the one I’ve gotten closest to. Maybe because I depend on a great center to hand me the ball. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Yeah? Well, you look like you lost your best friend.”
I shrug. “Nah, just tired, I guess.”
“Man, that pass to Johnson was a thing of beauty.”
“Thanks.”
“At this rate, we’re sure to make the playoffs.”
“We’ve got a long ways to go, Trevor.”
“Yeah, but you’re the real thing.” He side glances me. “We were worried about you, you know.”
That gets my attention. “Really?”
“Yeah. Some of the players believed you weren’t serious about the game.”
“Even after I took San Diego to the playoffs?”
“Yeah, even then. But it’s turned out all right.”
“Yeah. It has,” I say, without much enthusiasm.
Other players come by to shake my hand, smack me on the shoulder, and deliver the same message, “Great game.” For once, I feel welcomed. This is what I wanted. A team that made me feel at home. So why am I not more elated?
A little after seven, our flight lands in Chicago. We climb on the team bus that will take us back to the stadium. Most of the players have someone waiting for them. But there’s no one there for me. No one missed me while I was gone.
I drop the duffel bag on the passenger seat of the Porsche Cayenne SUV, crank on the ignition. When a wave of sadness rolls over me, I drop my forehead on the steering wheel. I’m so fucking tired of being alone.
I got to see Ellie. Get things straightened out. Whether she wants to or not, we’re going to sit down and talk. I can’t call ahead, and she won’t pick up the phone. The only way to do this is to drop in unannounced.
Chapter 14
Eleanor
“IS BROCK PARKER COMING OVER?” Meghan, Kaylee’s best friend, asks. She’d come to visit Kaylee, ostensibly to find out how she’s doing, but I’m guessing her real reason was to meet Brock. Well, she’s bound to be disappointed.
“No. Not tonight.” Because of his away game, Brock didn’t have Butch for the weekend. Rather, he’d arranged for Butch to remain with us. Even if he wanted to do a quick drive by to see Butch, it’s late. He’d never be that rude.
His fifteen phone messages would suggest he might have another purpose for dropping by, but I know better. I’d given him exactly what he wanted and now he wants more of the same. And that’s not happening. I’m not about to compound the colossal mistake I’d made.
It had been earth-shattering what we’d done. There’s no other way to describe it. He’d taken me in every way he knew how, most new to me. For hours, he’d tasted me, savored me, ridden me. And I’d loved every second of it. When dawn arrived, every bit of me hurt. It’d been more difficult than I can say to crawl out of bed, dress quietly in the dark and leave. But it was the right thing to do. Before we get caught. Before I lose my job. Before I fall in love with him. Too late. I never stopped loving Brock. But I’ve lived without him all these years. I can live without him again.
“Oh.” Meghan’s definitely deflated. She’d hoped to meet her crush. But she’s not seeing him in person if I have anything to say about it.
“Let’s make popcorn,” Kaylee says, walking into the kitchen. Although the MRI revealed her injury was only a sprain, the orthopedist recommended she wear the air cast, at least for another week. He’d also traded her old-fashioned crutches for a hands-free one which has made her more mobile and a lot happier.
“’K,” Meghan responds. Still despondent, she follows Kaylee into the kitchen.
After the popcorn is done, the girls will probably go back to giggling, Skyping their friends, painting their toenails. Typical pre-teen girl stuff.
I, however, have some work to do. So I head to my study to catch up.
No sooner do I get there, than there’s a knock at the front door. Who on earth could it be? I’m not expecting anyone.
“You want me to get it, Ms. Adams?” Meghan yells.
Before I can say no. I hear a squeak. “It’s him.”
A bad feeling crawls over me. “Him who?”
“Brock Parker. He’s gorgeous.”
Dear God. Barefoot I run out of the study in a fruitless attempt to stop her from opening the door.
But it’s too late.
The sight of Brock standing on the porch makes my stupid heart skip a beat.
“Hi,” Meghan says, twirling her hair.
“You must be Kaylee,” Brock responds with that killer smile of his.
Giggling ensues. “Oh, no. I’m Kaylee’s best friend, Meghan.” More giggling.
I reach the living room at the same time Kaylee emerges from the kitchen, popcorn bowl in her free hand.
Meghan points to her best friend. “That’s Kaylee.”
Oh, fuckity, fuck, fuck. Brock’s gaze zeroes in on Kaylee. And the smile on his face vanishes in an instant.
Having no idea of the disaster brewing, Kaylee greets him. “Hi, Mr. Parker. Nice to meet you.”
“You’re Kaylee?” His gaze narrows. His lips tighten.
She rolls forward on her hands-free crutch until she’s about a foot away from him. “Yes.”
It’s so obvious they’re related, even a blind man could see. Meghan might be flighty but the resemblance is not lost on her. Her gaze bounces between the two of them, and her silly grin disappears. “Oh. My. God.”
“Meghan, don’t.” I beg.
To no avail. She whirls on Kaylee, scowling. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Confused, Kaylee says, “Tell you what?”
“That he’s your father.”
A look of horror rolls over Kaylee’s face. “What? No.”
“Here I made a fool of myself, blathering about how hot he is. And he’s your dad. You dad, Kaylee. This is so embarrassing.” Her complexion’s a mottled shade of red.
Kaylee turns to me, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Mom? Tell her, he’s not.”
I have to gain control of the situation, so I say the only thing I can. “Girls, go to Kaylee’s room.”
“I’m leaving,” Meghan says, and then she hisses at Kaylee. “I’m not speaking to you again. Ever.”
“Let me walk you home.” I offer halfheartedly.
“No, thank you. I live only three doors down.” And with that, she flounces out, slamming the door behind her.
The expression on Kaylee’s face breaks my heart. She appears frightened, confused. I need to explain things to her. But not now. Now I have to deal with Brock, who looks ready to blow. “Kaylee, please go to your room. We’ll talk later.”
She doesn’t move.
“Please, Kaylee.” I’m barely hanging on.
Brock waits only long enough for her door to slam shut before he erupts. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I pray with everything in me that somehow I can bluff my way through this. “Tell you what?”
“That Kaylee’s my daughter.”
“No,
she’s—”
He holds up his hand, palm facing me. “Stop. Just stop.”
Not much I can do but obey.
“She’s the spitting image of me. Same hair, same eyes. Same lick of hair sticking out of the top of her head.”
“Lots of people—”
“Fucking stop, Ellie,” he yells.
I pinch my lips together. “I don’t allow cursing in this house.”
“Oh, yeah. But you allow lies, deceit, betrayal.”
“I never betrayed you. We weren’t even dating. It was just one night.”
“That’s all it takes. That’s all it took.” He gestures in the direction Kaylee took. “Clearly.”
“I was your tutor.”
“We were a hell of a lot more than that. We were friends, Ellie.”
“No, we were not.”
He tangles a hand through hair the same shade as my daughter’s. “You told me you were okay.”
I stomp over to his side. “What was I supposed to say? That you knocked me up?”
“Yes!”
“You were headed for football glory. Last thing you wanted was a child. You said it yourself at the Hilton. It would have been a disaster if you had a kid.”
“I could have done something.”
“Like what? Pay for an abortion?” I jerk up my chin.
“God. No. I would have never asked that of you. I could have helped with expenses.”
“How? You had no money of your own. It was all your father’s.”
“I would have begged, borrowed or stolen. I would have crawled to him for money for my kid.” Unable to stand still, he strides up and down the living room, eating up the space.
“He never would have given it to you.”
He whirls back around. “Oh, yes, he damn well would have. All I would have had to do is threaten him with a scandal. That’s the last thing he would have wanted. He would have handed over the money to shut me up.” He marches forward until he’s towering over me. “God. All these years, Ellie. I could have made life easier for you. I could have made life easier for her.”
Roughing the Player (Chicago Outlaws Book 2) Page 11