Road Games

by Road Games [Bold Strokes FF] (retail) (epub)

  Tapped Out

  Radclyffe

  No matter how many times I experience it, an airport crammed with lesbians always makes me high. Today was no different as I watched dozens of jostling, laughing dykes of all ages, sizes, and descriptions converge on the baggage carousels in the Albany airport. Waving to familiar faces and calling out greetings, I squeezed my way through the ocean of women lugging bulging equipment bags and six-foot-long sheaths crammed with bo sticks and jos and Kung Fu swords. The Third Annual Women’s Martial Arts Tournament was underway, and my favorite weekend of the entire year was about to begin.

  “Sorry,” I murmured automatically as I jumped out of the way of yet another woman pushing a baggage cart piled so high it should carry a hazard sign and veered into someone next to me.

  “That’s quite all right, darlin’,” a woman drawled in a voice sweet and thick as molasses.

  I stiffened because I’d heard that voice before, only then I’d been flat on my back with her hard thigh jammed between my legs, her small, firm breasts crushed to mine, and her hot mouth skimming my ear.

  I’ll never forget what she whispered to me then, flouting every rule of fair play I’d ever heard of and some I probably hadn’t.

  “You’d better tap out, darlin’, before I break your wrist.”

  She was right and I knew it, but I’d hesitated for just a second because I was stubborn and because a small part of me liked being pinned by the weight of her hot, hard body. She sensed my conflict and shifted her thigh, rolling it over my crotch so imperceptibly no one but I could have known. I moaned softly and she laughed against my neck. When I felt my clit swell, I was furious at her for making me feel something I wasn’t supposed to want and at myself for not being able to stop. With the arm that wasn’t vised between hers, I rapidly slapped the mat as hard as I could, tapping out and thereby signaling that she had bested me in the finals of the senior black belt jujitsu division.

  We hadn’t said a word after the finals last year, not even at the closing ceremonies when we’d stood together to receive our trophies. I’d avoided her at the party later that night, even though I’d caught her watching me more than once. She didn’t look any different now than I remembered, still lean and taut, her skin the color of honey and her blond hair bleached to spun gold by the Georgia sun. Small crinkles radiated from the corners of her summer blue eyes as she smiled at me.

  “Good to see you back, Cassidy,” she said as we both reached for our bags.

  “Hi, Robideaux,” I managed, though my jaws were clenched so tightly my teeth felt cemented together. Lee Robideaux was a legend in martial arts circles, the highest ranking woman judoka in the United States. She’d earned her rank, no one questioned that, but she was flashy and arrogant and God damn it, sexy as hell.

  It had taken me months to forget the rush I’d gotten from being helpless underneath her, and it didn’t help that almost every time I’d masturbated, no matter who or what I started out thinking about, I always ended up coming with her hot breath in my ear and my clit exploding against her slick, tight thigh. Just thinking about it now sent a ripple through my cunt, and that pissed me off so much that I jerked my equipment bag off the conveyor belt with a snarl.

  “Need a hand with that?” Robideaux whispered in the proximity of my ear.

  Yes! my clit screamed. No! my brain shouted.

  “I’m fine.” And I was, other than the fact that the muscles along the length of my jaw had gone into spasm and I had an ache between my legs so huge that I was going to need a private moment very soon or suffer for the rest of the day with terminal priapism. I hated that just looking at her could make me wet and, worse, that closing my eyes and imagining her grinding her hips between my legs could make me come. I swear she was laughing as I heaved my bag onto my shoulder and stomped away.

  Luck was not with me. The rooms we’d been assigned at SUNY where the tournament was being held weren’t ready yet, so I couldn’t even soothe my agitated body with a brisk round of solitaire. Unfortunately, I’d never developed a knack for making myself come in a public bathroom, which was my only alternative. Besides the fact that it was frustrating to try and fail, it was embarrassing that just seeing Robideaux could get me so horny that I was almost willing to give it a shot.

  Fortunately, I spied one of the tournament directors who I’d trained with years ago, before she’d moved to another state, and I flagged her down.

  “Hey, Mel, are the practice rooms ready yet? I’m competing in the first round tomorrow morning, and I wanted to work out a little bit. I’m really stiff from the plane ride.”

  Melissa took a quick look around, then pulled a key off a ring that she wore on her belt. “We’re not supposed to let anyone in down there until after registration is finished, so lock up when you’re done and bring the key back to me.”

  “Absolutely. Can I stow my suitcase somewhere?”

  “Behind the desk with the security guard,” Melissa called over her shoulder as she hurried off to intercept a group of newcomers.

  I remembered the layout from the last two years, so I skirted around the swarm of athletes waiting for the elevators and took the stairs down a level to the hallway that connected the dorms to the adjoining building where the practice rooms were located. The locker room was empty, and I quickly removed my sneakers and socks and stripped. I stowed my T-shirt, jeans, and underwear in a locker and pulled out an old pair of white cotton gi pants that I kept in my equipment bag to practice in. I didn’t want to wrinkle my tournament gi before I competed. The pants were practically threadbare at the knees and the seams were spreading in the crotch, but they were comfortable. The white T-shirt that went with them was just as worn and practically see-through. Once dressed, I padded in rubber flip-flops toward the practice room.

  As I inserted the key in the lock I heard footsteps behind me and looked over my shoulder. Robideaux approached wearing a pristine white gi, her black belt frayed on the edges from years of use.

  “I thought I’d get in a little workout,” Robideaux said.

  “The practice rooms aren’t open yet,” I said.

  Robideaux looked pointedly at the key in my hand. “Seems you’ve solved that problem.”

  “You’re not supposed to be down here,” I said inanely.

  Robideaux leaned one arm against the door frame and bent close so that her eyes were inches from mine. “Are you going to report me, darlin’?”

  Her breath slid along my throat, sweet and warm, just like her voice.

  “I don’t kiss and tell,” I muttered.

  She grinned. “I’ll remember that.”

  I unlocked the door and held it wide. Robideaux edged past me, managing to brush her crotch against my thigh, and stopped at the edge of the tatami mats that took up most of the twenty by thirty foot space. We both kicked off our shoes, bowed, and stepped onto the mat. I walked away from Robideaux to the far side, knelt in seiza—legs folded beneath me, hands palm down on my thighs—and closed my eyes to center myself. After a few minutes of deep breathing, I stood and started my stretching exercises. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Robideaux sitting with her legs spread almost a hundred and eighty degrees and her torso bent forward to rest on the mat, her arms extended straight out in front of her. She was flexible as well as strong, but I knew that from having grappled with her. A disturbing image of her legs scissored around my waist flashed through my mind, and a warning tingle stirred in my crotch. Abruptly, I turned my back to do a series of standing shoulder rolls from one side of the mat to the other. I lost count of how many I had done, until I came up out of a roll to a standing position and found Robideaux an inch from my face.

  “Warm enough yet?” Robideaux asked.

  “For what?” I asked, just a tiny bit breathless.

  “To practice with me.”

  I shook my head and indicated my attire. I wasn’t wearing my gi jacket or my black belt, and many of the holds and throws required using the uniform material
for leverage. “I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you.”

  “Not even if I wanted you to?”

  I felt my face go hot and I searched hers, but saw nothing except cocky assurance in her eyes. Annoyed at my reaction, I said more sharply than I would have if she didn’t always manage to get me off balance, “That’s not my game.”

  “Then what is, darlin’,” Robideaux said softly, settling her hand lightly on my hip.

  “Nothing you’ll ever fi—”

  She slid her arm around my waist, bent her knees to lower her center of gravity at the same time as she drove her hipbone into my crotch, and launched me onto my back with an effortless hip throw. I’d been thrown thousands of times, and she knew it. I merely relaxed into the fall, tucked my chin, and slapped the mat with my arms extended to absorb the force of the impact. There was no chance that I would be hurt, but I was surprised and irritated. Fortunately, I glimpsed a blur of white coming at me and rapidly rolled to one side just as Robideaux dropped on her stomach onto the spot where I had been lying, clearly intending to pin me. She hadn’t even fully landed before I catapulted onto her back, clamped my knees on her waist and dug my heels inside the curve of her hips in front, and wrapped one arm around her neck from behind. Then I let the momentum carry me onto my back so that she was stretched out on top of me, her back to my front, her butt nestled in my crotch. All I had to do then was arch my back with my legs folded around her waist and tighten my arm around her neck, gripping my own wrist with my other arm behind her head, and choke her. Which I did.

  After a second, she tapped out on my arm, two quick slaps of her palm against my skin, and I let her go instantly. She rolled off and lay on her side facing me, breathing fast and grinning that infuriatingly sexy grin.

  “Nice move,” she said.

  “What did you expect?” I shifted onto my side too, and I couldn’t help but stare into her eyes. They were bluer than I remembered, the pupils wide and dark. “That I was just going to lie there and wait for you to pin me?”

  She eased close, so close I could feel her lips move against mine as she whispered, “That’s exactly what I was hoping.”

  “Well, think again.” I intended to get up, I really did, but she slid her hips a little closer until our thighs touched and I was suddenly frozen to the spot. I felt her fumble between us and I looked down to see her untie her belt and pull it off. Her gi top fell open and I groaned. She wore nothing beneath it, not even a sports bra. Her breasts were as golden as the rest of her, the nipples small and tight in the centers of two perfect, tawny circles.

  “How about if I even the field?” Robideaux shrugged out of her top. “Better?”

  “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  “I propose a rematch,” Robideaux said, pushing me onto my back and straddling my waist. She knelt above me, her hands braced on my shoulders. “No holds barred. Whoever taps out first loses.”

  “What makes you think I want a rematch?” I said, trying to sound tough, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her breasts. They swayed ever so slightly with each breath, tantalizingly close. I wanted my mouth on them. I wanted to tighten my teeth around her nipple until she moaned. Her crotch was hot against my stomach and I twisted my hips, trying to dislodge her before I lost my mind and clamped my mouth to her flesh.

  “Your cunt felt so good against my leg when I beat you last year,” Robideaux said softly, rocking on my belly. “I made you wet that day, didn’t I?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Maybe.” She lowered herself, still pinning my shoulders, and kissed me, her tongue teasing my lips before dancing inside my mouth. I gripped her forearms and jerked my pelvis into empty air, aching for contact. I moaned into her mouth and sucked on her tongue. She pulled back, laughing.

  “I bet you still think about it, don’t you? Do you come, thinking—”

  “Get the fuck off me.”

  “Make me.”

  I planted my feet flat on the floor, thrust my hips, and torqued my shoulders, throwing her to the side. I was on her in a second, my legs scissoring her thighs, but she was naked from the waist up and I didn’t have anything to hold on to. I tried for a front chokehold, but Robideaux twisted the back of my T-shirt in her fist, jerked it tight around my neck, and almost executed a reverse choke. I managed to twist away just in time but lost my grip on her legs. She pumped her hips and flipped me, and the next thing I knew I was on my back with her forearm across my neck and her body pinning my chest. She licked my lips, then nipped at my chin.

  “Are you going to tap out?” she murmured.

  I turned my head away as much as I could so she wouldn’t see what the weight of her body was doing to me. I couldn’t move, and if she leaned a little harder with her arm on my neck, I wouldn’t be able to breathe, but my cunt was swelling and my clit was hard and all I wanted her to do was press harder, everywhere. She inched up until her breasts met mine and I groaned.

  “All you have to do is tap, darlin’, and I’ll let you up,” Robideaux whispered, one hand dropping to my waist. She pulled the ties on my pants and I felt cool air against my belly.

  “No,” I moaned, turning my head back and searching for her face. Her eyes were hazy and her lips parted in a half-smile far sexier even than her cocky grin.

  “You make me so hot,” Robideaux murmured, shifting ever so slightly until her crotch rode my thigh. She slid her hand down my pants and cupped my cunt while pressing a tiny bit harder against my neck. “Ready to give up?”

  “No.” I jammed my leg into her crotch and she groaned, her eyes closing and her grip on my neck relaxing. I thrust my hips to throw her off, but she stayed with me, squeezing her hand between my legs and catching my clit in her fingers. I yelled, “Oh, fuck!” and went completely still.

  Robideaux trembled and jerked her crotch against my leg. “Nice…try.” She shuddered and shifted her arm from my neck to cup my cheek in her palm. She was shaking so hard I knew she’d come soon.

  “Tapping out?” I gasped, my clit twitching between her fingers. I could have bucked her off then, except her grip on my clit felt too good. I wanted to beg her to make me come, but it was so much better than I’d imagined all those times I’d teased myself to orgasm while thinking about her that I never wanted the reality to end.

  “I can last as long as you can,” Robideaux said, but she sounded about to lose it.

  I shoved my shoulders up while I still had enough strength in my stomach to do it and caught her nipple in my teeth. She moaned as I sucked her, but I couldn’t hold it long. I fell back and she almost followed.

  “Concede?” I asked weakly. I couldn’t breathe. God, I was close now.

  “You wish,” Robideaux grunted, milking my clit with long, firm strokes.

  “Robideaux,” I groaned. She was making me come and I couldn’t stop her. Didn’t want to stop her, didn’t want the terrible wonderful pressure building in my cunt to stop, ever. I gripped her hips to keep her centered on my thigh and pushed and pulled her along my leg. The muscles in her stomach went board hard, and she threw her head back and came with a loud cry, soaking her pants and mine. She didn’t let up on me but just kept pulling my clit while she writhed on top of me, still coming, and I exploded seconds after her.

  I lay there panting, spent and weak, Robideaux’s body pinning me to the mat, her hand still between my legs. She shivered and I felt around on the mat for her jacket and dragged it over her. Robideaux bit my neck, then nuzzled my ear. I kissed her. When she rubbed my clit in slow, firm circles, I moaned.

  “You might want to tap out before you get hurt, darlin’,” she murmured.

  “Are you crazy?” I laughed and bumped my clit against her palm, already hard enough to come again. “Feel that?”

  “Mmm, yeah.”

  “Does it feel like I’m ready to tap out?”

  Robideaux heaved herself up on an elbow and grinned at me, her eyes soft and satisfied. “Up for another match?”

  “I’
m here, aren’t I?”

  She leaned down and kissed me. “Same rules—you tap out, you lose.”

  I just nodded and kissed her back, thinking that win or lose, it was going to be one hell of a tournament.

  Hearts on Wheels

  LC Jordan

  “Come on, baby. Open up for me. I know you want to.”

  The words, barely a whisper, were swallowed by the darkness that pressed in close all around me. Sight was useless to me now, so I closed my eyes and concentrated as my hands moved unerringly over the smooth curves in front of me.

  I felt a slight resistance and rotated my wrist, ready to use more pressure. My heart was pounding so hard I felt the pulse all through my body. It was the same rush I got every time I was so close to claiming another beauty.

  Just as I was about to rock forward and put my weight into my movements, the unmistakable jingle of keys next to my ear shattered the moment. Startled, I lost my balance and dropped the slim jim. The thin metal tool sounded like a cymbal crash as it clattered against the car door, then the pavement.

  Quickly reaching into my hip pocket, I pulled out a penlight and flashed it behind me. A woman shaded her eyes from the white halo. I lowered my aim a few inches, only to spotlight a pale triangle of skin and subtle swell of breasts framed by the dark vee of a pullover. Unreasonably embarrassed, I flicked the light to the side.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  The words came out in a loud whisper because I hoped the owner of the car I was trying to repossess was still asleep. The woman in question obviously saw no need for stealth and replied in a soft but normal voice.

  “I could ask you the same thing, but I think I already know the answer. That’s your tow truck parked just down the street, isn’t it?”

  Before I could deny or confirm anything, she tilted her head slightly and shook the keys again. “Wouldn’t it be easier with these?”

  It clicked then that she must be the car’s owner, or rather former owner, since the dealership was repossessing it. I’d been doing repos for a couple of years and was usually in and out before the owner knew what happened. After the first few times of getting cussed, kicked, and chased, I learned to be quick, quiet, and keep a close eye on the house. Nobody had opened that front door while I was watching.