Second Go-Round

by Lynn Burke

  My cock swelled, and I rubbed myself along her thigh.

  Minutes ticked by … an hour slipped past as I studied her face, the curve of her brows, the high cheekbones, pointy chin, and bow of her top lip. Her collarbones called out to my teeth, but I shifted my attention lower to her full breasts and the soft nipples.

  Mouth watering and fingers itching to pinch, I lifted higher on my arm to better see the rest of her curves. The dip of her belly button below where her hand rested and the smooth skin leading to her bare pubic bone. A hint of her clit peeked from between the top of her labia, and I fisted my hand to keep from touching her.

  She shifted, her thigh pressing against my cock. “Mmm.”

  I turned to find her sleepy green eyes peering at me. She slid her hand between us and wrapped her hand around my cock. “I want you,” she whispered.

  Fuck, yes.

  Without a word, I rolled, and she spread her thighs, welcoming me. I slid upward, nestling my hard cock along her pussy. Heat and wetness coated my length as she wrapped her legs around me.

  There were no walls, no steel door hiding her from me. She stared up at me with naked honesty and want. “Fuck me, Jarod.”

  With a groan, I angled my hips and slid deep inside of her heat. “Christ, you feel so fucking good.” My eyes slid shut, and I rested my forehead against hers. She felt too good. “Condom. Shit!” I started to pull out, but she clamped me tight to her with her thighs.

  “You get tested weekly, right?” she asked, still unguarded with her gaze.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m clean and on the pill.” Her gaze dropped to my lips. “I want you this way.”

  I bit down on the lip she stared at and pressed back in, giving her everything.

  Her lips parted on a gasp. “Oh, yes.”

  Setting a slow but steady rhythm, I rocked into her wet heat, the slide and feel of her muscles pulling on my cock enough to make me want to blow my load like a green teenager. I clenched my jaw and thought of baseball. Football. The Bruins and Celtics. Anything to keep my mind off the heaven I’d lost myself to.

  I angled and shifted, taking her deeper, gyrating my hips so my pubic bone rubbed against her clit.

  She groaned, tipping her head back and baring her neck.

  Swooping down, I open-mouth kissed every inch she allowed, flicking my tongue along her skin to taste her.

  Pants lifted her chest against mine, and I slid my hand between us, lifting to see her face. “Look at me, Christine.”

  Her eyelids fluttered open. Huge pupils dominated the green of her eyes.

  Not bothering to hide the emotion I felt for her from my own gaze, I peered down at her, rubbing my fingertips over her clit.

  She gasped as I flicked under the hood covering her hard nub, and that whine—God, that fucking beautiful sound—rose from her chest and escaped her lush lips as she stared up at me.

  “Come around my cock, baby girl.”

  A shudder rippled through her pussy, pulling me deeper, and she arched her back with a moan, keeping her eyes on mine as she went over.

  Fuck me, did I fall half in love with her in that instant. “God, Christine.” I clasped her face in my hands and barely kept from devouring her mouth while giving over to my own climax and filling her with my cum.

  Christine

  I cracked an eyelid open. Eight-fifteen, the clock read. But it wasn’t my alarm clock. The satin sheets beneath me weren’t mine, and the hairy arm and leg draped over my body didn’t belong to me either.

  Remnants of Jarod’s musky cologne drifted past my nose, and God help me, I smiled and closed my eyes again. What a night. Goddamn. Fantasy number one fulfilled in a way I couldn’t have imagined.

  My ass was sore, but the rest of me was more than ready for another round.

  Wait. We’d already had the second round. Jarod had made love to me, waking me fully from a hazy sleepiness. Goddamn.

  I frowned, recalling every emotion filling his dark eyes. I’d wanted to burrow beneath his skin and become one with him, latching on like a starved soul.

  Fuck.

  I opened my eyes again. Eight-fifteen. Jarod was off the clock, damn it all to hell. Scowling, I shifted in his arms, trying to wake him gently. “Hey,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Jarod.”

  “Hmm?” His voice rumbled against my ear, and he squeezed me close.

  “You’re off the clock.”

  He rubbed his face against my hair and pushed the mass of waves from my neck. “This isn’t about a job right now,” he murmured against my skin. “This is about how much I want you.”

  Danger, my mind screamed, but shivers of fire slid down my body as his lips and tongue traced patterns on my neck, and I didn’t scoot away as I should have. I angled my neck to give him better access.

  “Mmm, you taste delightful in the morning.”

  Goddamnit. I pulled away and sat, lowering my feet to the floor while scanning the room for my dress. There. By the bedroom door. Heart thrumming in my throat, I crossed the room, trying to keep the swaying of my ass to a minimum since I felt the heat of Jarod’s stare on my backside. I squatted to pick up my dress rather than bend over. Once in the bathroom with the door closed, I shut my eyes and sighed.

  That second go-round during the night had made a huge spider-crack in my wall. The look in his eyes as he made love to me, the emotion pouring out of him—even if we didn’t kiss.

  “Goddamnit!” I whispered the word harshly and strode toward the toilet.

  He was too good of a guy to hurt. Too good to be true. Taking off and never seeing him would save us both future pain.

  I took care of business, pulled on my dress, and ran my fingers through my hair. Anyone with eyes would see the war in mine, the unguarded, vulnerable mess of my mind. Keep your distance…

  I pulled open the door.

  Jarod laid on the bed, mussed hair, sleepy and sexy bedroom eyes aimed my way. His gaze flitted down over my dress, and a frown tugged on his brow. “You’re leaving?”

  Somehow, I forced my head up and down, but my tongue didn’t seem to want to move.

  Silence hovered over us. I wanted to crawl back beneath that tented sheet and wrap myself around his warm, hard body. I wanted his mouth fused to mine, his cock filling me, erasing everything in my mind but the feel and presence of him.

  “I-I wish you all the best,” I somehow managed, and spun toward the living area.

  “You are my best.” Jarod’s whisper followed me out through the bedroom’s double doors.

  I clamped my teeth down on the inside of my cheek as my eyes began to burn. What the hell was wrong with me?

  Chicken shit.

  A scowl dented my forehead as I grabbed my purse and yanked on my shoes still lying by the front door. Yes, I’m scared. There. I said it. Didn’t give me any courage though.

  I pulled open the door and strode down the hallway on trembling legs.

  ****

  Halloween came and went, my favorite time of year. The day and spirit of the holiday fell flat like a squash-and-run cockroach on the road. Two more bomb threats worried the Boston area, one including Chantelle’s Too, the nightclub where Jarod and I had met. A reporter stood outside the roped-off entrance, explaining how a bomb had been found in one of the lockers.

  I sat at the lunchroom table on Monday morning, eating my dry bunny greens and grilled chicken, focusing on the TV across the tiny room.

  Footfalls came from the hallway, and Dad appeared in the doorway a few seconds later.

  “They found the bomb,” I said, my attention flitting back to the reporter as I speared my fork into my salad without looking.

  “Thank goodness it didn’t go off last night.”

  I hummed my agreement around my mouthful of boring lunch. Calorie counting sucked ass. “That place has been packed every time I’ve been there,” I said as Dad settled into the chair beside me with his cold pastrami sandwich.

  “Hopefully, they’ll find somet
hing to lead them to whoever is causing this ruckus.”

  The reporter went on, telling us viewers how the threats didn’t seem to be making much impact on Boston’s nightlife. Businesses stayed open, and customers continued to spend their money looking for a good time.

  “I think it would be best if you stayed away from the bars and dance clubs for a while,” Dad said, concern lacing each word. He smiled, the skin crinkling at the corners of the green eyes I’d inherited from him. “I wouldn’t know what to do without my little girl.”

  I grabbed his hand and squeezed, my throat tightening. A daddy’s girl through and through, I never tired of hearing how much he adored me. “Love you, Daddy.”

  “Love you, too, sweet cakes.”

  The news anchor moved on to the next pile of shit, and I dug back into my salad.

  “Who are you taking with you to the game on Sunday?” Dad asked a few minutes later.

  “Tara.”

  Dad nodded, seeming unsurprised. Tara and I had been friends since childhood and grew up having sleepovers on Saturday nights to get ready for the Pats’ big games on Sundays. Like two peas in a pod, our parents had always said.

  “Just be careful and go straight home afterward.”

  I nodded, having every intention of foregoing my usual barhopping downtown after games. “Promise, Daddy. So, what’s the latest on that book of business you bid on last week?”

  “I’m hoping to hear today. Zimmerman’s is a small business, but they’ve been around for over fifty years.

  He continued chatting, and my mind wandered to the unrelated Zimmerman haunting my dreams—nighttime and daytime. Those dark eyes and sexy smile. Soft skin and oh-so-talented cock that had ruined me for life.

  I still hadn’t gone out with anyone. Hadn’t even logged into the three dating sites I used to find my next sure-to-disappoint date.

  Tara and Jess both insisted I give Jarod a chance to break my shitty record, but I refused to bend. All the toys I kept in my bed stand had gotten a good workout over the last couple of weeks, but I’d been left unsatisfied and unable to get out of bitch cycle.

  Sucked ass, pure and simple.

  Hot fudge, I thought, swallowing down my last bite of lunch over three scoops of moose tracks. Yeah, that’ll work … to put another five pounds on my damn hips.

  I snapped the lid on my empty Tupperware and pushed back my chair, heading to my desk, hoping no disgruntled customers walked through our door. Bitch mode was proving harder and harder to turn off.

  ****

  “You’re shitting me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tara said, her scratchy voice ending on a hacking cough.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, cell held away from my ear as she fought to clear the phlegm clinging to her lungs.

  “Ugh.” She breathed heavy in my ear. “This fucking sucks ass. I hate backing out late like this, but I can’t kick the fever.”

  I heaved a sigh and glanced at the clock. Ten in the morning … plenty of time to find someone else to go to the game with me. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll give my brother a call. Hope you’re feeling better soon.”

  “Thanks, Chris.”

  Grumbling, I hit the “end” button and thought about who to call. Dad and Mom had headed to Florida for the week.

  I tried my brother, but he and his new wife—who owned his balls—had a baby shower to attend. The two co-workers I reached out to also had plans.

  Expecting a big fat no, I called Jess, who wasn’t a football fan.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “but—”

  “Come on,” I all but whined. “You’re going to be strapped down with a newborn before you know it. Take a few hours for yourself and enjoy a girl’s day out.”

  “Skye climbed into bed with us last night, and I hardly slept.”

  “Shit.” I sighed, wracking my brain for who to call next.

  “You could try Jarod,” Jess suggested, an all-too-obvious smile in her voice.

  “Hardy-har.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I’ll bet you are, but no.”

  “Well, whoever you decide to go with, just be sure to head home afterward and forego your usual barhopping.”

  “Yes, Mommy.”

  Jess laughed, and a few minutes later I hung up, gaze glued to my app-lined screen. Calling Jarod wasn’t an option since I didn’t have his number.

  My text notification dinged.

  J: Just in case…

  She included Jarod’s number which I of course immediately added to my contacts.

  “Damn you.” I dropped my phone to the cushion beside me and stared across my living room. I didn’t want to get involved with someone I liked too much to hurt. I also couldn’t get him out of my mind and move on. Perhaps a nice, candid chat to straighten the situation was in order.

  I picked up my phone, my hand suddenly shaking.

  C: Last minute, but want to go to the Pats game with me?

  The inside of my lower lip fought with my teeth while I waited.

  Sexy Man-Beef: Sure.

  I frowned and hit “call” rather than text.

  “Don’t sound so enthused,” I said rather than hello when he answered.

  Jarod chuckled. “If I’d have thrown a bunch of googley-eyed emojis and hearts back at you in response, you’d probably have texted back to forget you asked.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Well then, sure it is.”

  “Okay.” I hated that I grinned. Hated that my heart fluttered by the sound of his voice over the damn phone. Sexy, low voice. I would need to give one of my vibrators a workout before heading to Gillette.

  “Want me to pick you up?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  Jarod outright laughed.

  ****

  A knock sounded on my door, and I grabbed my sweatshirt, keys, cash, and ID, stuffing the latter two in my back jeans pocket. One deep breath, and I pulled the door open. “Hey.” I shuffled forward, intent on keeping him out of my space where I would be tempted to do all sorts of things rather than go to the game.

  Hands in pockets, he grinned and stepped back. “Ready to go?”

  “Yep.” I turned and locked the deadbolt, cursing my shaking fingers. He smelled so damn good. Looked fan-fucking-tastic in his tight red t-shirt and dark jeans. My mouth and pussy watered for a taste. Or three.

  “Thanks for the invite,” he said from behind me as I led the way to the elevator. “It’s been two years since I’ve gone to a game.”

  “I’m just glad I didn’t have to go alone.” I cringed, hating how the statement came out.

  “At least I made it on your to-call list—even if I was the last resort.”

  “Look.” I stopped in front of the elevator and turned. “I like you. A lot, but I’m not doing a relationship. I suck at them and don’t want to break anyone’s heart. We have some things in common and get along well enough, so let’s just keep it at that, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I opened my mouth, expecting to have to argue, but snapped it shut. “Just like that?”

  His gaze held a hell of a lot more than friendship intention. “Just like that.”

  “Fine.” I lifted my chin. The elevator door slid open, and I stepped in, turning to press the first floor button. “But none of those emotional I’m-falling-for-you gazes shit. I can’t handle it.”

  “How about I-want-to-fuck-you gazes? Can you handle those?”

  My breath caught at the heat in his gaze. “Barely.” Damnit, I sounded like a panting whore.

  The door slid shut, encasing us in stifling silence. I stared into his dark eyes, thinking about his hard body slamming me against the elevator wall.

  “I’ll try to hide my feelings, Christine,” he finally said, his gaze on the pulse throbbing in my neck, “but I can’t help wanting you. I can promise to keep my hands to myself though. Deal?”

  I nodded, my insides flustered, confused, and torn. “Deal.�
��

  The elevator door slid open. “So.” I stepped out into the lobby, determined to lighten the sexually charged atmosphere between us. “I’m dying to know what Micah had to say after our little exhibition the other week.”

  Jarod groaned, and my pussy clenched. “You really want to discuss sex with me right now?” he asked, keeping his voice low as he came up alongside me.

  “Did he tell you that he offered me a job?”

  When Jarod didn’t respond, I glanced up at him. The man was an open book. A muscle in his jaw ticked, and all trace of teasing and sexual thought had disappeared from his eyes as he peered down at me. “No.” He clipped the word.

  “I’m kidding.” I bit back my smirk. “I just wanted to see what you’d say.”

  His shoulders slumped and the line between his eyebrows disappeared as he pushed open the front door. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

  I followed him down the walkway. “I don’t think I’d like a world without Jarod Zimmerman in it.”

  “You’ve given me hope.” He glanced back at me, one of his brows quirked. “Something to build on.”

  “Don’t get any ideas.”

  “Too late.” He grinned and nodded toward the silver WRX in the guest parking spot. “Car’s over there.”

  Jarod

  I’d gotten a foot in the door and I wasn’t about to fuck up the chance to weasel my way into Christine’s life. Keeping things on a friend level was torture for my cock, but totally doable since her words and body language spoke for itself. She wanted me. Her dilated pupils and heightened pulse jumping in her neck said it all.

  I focused on Christine’s knowledge of all things sports while driving. I focused on taking in the sights of Gillette and the outrageously expensive food and beer. I focused on the GOAT and my Pats crushing the Texans. I focused on the long walk back to my car amidst thousands of other fans heading off to celebrate our win.

  “Where to?” I asked once I sat behind the wheel.

  Christine shrugged, her lower lip between her teeth.

  “You’re ready to call it a night, but you’re not ready to call it a night,” I said. “Does that about sum it up?”

  She wrinkled her slightly crooked nose. “Am I that obvious?”

  “Pretty much.”