“Oh, so you’re admitting the Comets will come back and kick the Mercury’s asses?”
Damn, it figured she wouldn’t bite. “No, I just think it’s only fair you agree ahead of time what I’m allowed to make you do. I wouldn’t want you to think I was taking advantage because your team had an off day.” That ought to shut her up, I thought. I took a drink of my beer feeling smug.
“If I win you have to stay at my house for an entire weekend. That means Friday night till Monday morning.” She laid her arm along the back of my stool and whispered in my ear, “And have sex any way I choose.”
What the fuck? I choked as my beer went down the wrong pipe. “S-sex w-with y-you?” My inability to formulate words had nothing to do with the beer searing my lungs.
“Any way I choose.” For a full minute I stared at her, speechless.
“But we’re both…I mean you are…and I’m…” I was having a hard time figuring it out. I felt like two trains were colliding in my brain.
I considered us both butches, and sex with her wasn’t something I’d ever contemplated. I mean, she was my best bud, not my girlfriend. We knew each other’s fantasy women and what we wanted to do in those fantasies. We weren’t supposed to think about each other in a sexual way. We were more likely to slug each other in the arm than hug. I took a big swig out of my beer, trying to picture it in my head. It didn’t help. Damn it, this was Shea. We didn’t even flirt. It just would not compute, and I was afraid I might fry what little brain cells I had if I continued to try to make sense out of it.
“What?” Shea seemed a little insulted. “I know I’m not all femme like those bimbos who keep rejecting you, but I’m not butch either.” Technically, that was true. Although she didn’t wear dresses and makeup, she didn’t wear jeans and muscle shirts like I did, preferring slacks and blouses. But damn it, she knew stuff, like the first time I tried to use a strap-on and I fell out the window. I thought that damn paramedic was going to have a heart attack, he was laughing so hard.
Mentally, I started to take a tally. She’s five-six and can carry a hundred-pound bag of cement without breaking a sweat. She wears earrings, but they’re usually shaped like dolphins or parrots, not those dainty pearl types. She knows how to change spark plugs. She likes to cook. She doesn’t carry a purse, preferring a backpack. She likes babies. She knows who Brett Favre is. Her favorite color is purple. She didn’t cry during City of Angels, but she did cry at her sister’s wedding. We’d seen each other puke, for fuck sake. What the hell was I thinking?
“Boxers or briefs?” I asked, trying to think of anything that would make the picture clearer, not that I was really that worried about losing the bet. I just needed something to erase the butch-on-butch action from my short-circuiting mind.
“Commando.” Even if she was teasing, that one word made my heart pound in my chest. Was she trying to kill me? What kind of power trip was she on? “You’d better decide fast. They’re starting their warm-ups.”
I glanced up at the monitor. The score was displayed prominently across the bottom of the screen. “Okay, but you’re camping in the Superstitions with me,” I said, referring to the mountains east of Apache Junction, famous for their Lost Dutchman’s gold-mine legend. “I mean the whole weekend this time,” I said pointedly. The one and only time Shea had agreed to go camping with me, she ended up crossing paths with a scorpion and refused to stay for even one night. It took me hours to decoupage her desk at work with photocopies of the definition for the word camping as my way of revenge. “And the whole slave thing still applies.”
“Sex in the mountains sounds fun,” she said. With her arm still along the back of my stool, she put out her hand. “It’s a bet.”
“Bet.” I happily shook her hand before I realized what she’d said. Huh? She doesn’t mean… I had no intention of having sex with Shea in the mountains or anywhere else. But I just let it go and turned my attention to the game, having every confidence in the world that the Mercury would hold their lead.
I should have known better. Never make a bet when you have no control over the outcome. Swoopes scored thirty-five points in the second half, and Taurasi couldn’t buy a basket at the Wicker Barn. That night I cursed Diana Taurasi, Sheryl Swoopes, and the entire state of Texas as I rang the doorbell at Shea’s home.
“Oh, I see you didn’t chicken out.” She was all smiles when she opened the door wearing a sleeveless white shirt untucked over brown cargo pants, sans shoes or socks.
“I never renege on a bet.” I walked past her and tossed my bag on the floor next to the couch. “You gonna feed me first or are we gonna just rip each other’s clothes off right here in the front room?”
Shea laughed. “Can’t wait for me to sink my fist deep inside you, huh?”
She walked up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. I felt her breath on my cheek as she pulled me in tight against her body. Her hands roamed over me, alternately caressing and massaging. She began lightly touching the undersides of my breasts with the palms of her hands until my nipples stood erect. I found myself too lost in the pleasure of her touch to fight her for control. Then she squeezed each breast firmly, rubbing especially hard around each nipple. Her uncharacteristic actions caught me off guard almost as much as the sudden jolt of desire that shot through me.
“I just want to get started so we can end it.” I’m pretty sure I said that without stuttering.
“Patience.” She released her hold on me and walked down the hall to her bedroom while she spoke. “We have the whole weekend ahead of us.”
I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to follow her or not. I debated internally for a minute as I caught my breath and then started in that direction. She met me just outside the door to her bedroom.
“First things first.” She held something out to me. “Remove all your clothes and put this on.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” I stared incredulously at the Comets jersey bearing the number 22 she’d shoved into my hands.
“The only clothing you will be allowed for the entire weekend is this jersey.” Her arrogant smirk was starting to annoy me.
“What? That’s insane.” I’d rather have leeches covering my body than wear the enemy’s uniform.
“As my slave for the weekend, your main objective is to please me.” She stepped closer to me. “You wearing this jersey and nothing else will please me immensely.” In a very low, seductive purr, just mere inches from my ear, she said, “Don’t you want to please me?”
Words fled from my mind as breath hissed from my lungs. What the fuck? Did she really mean that kind of slave? What. The. Fuck? Panic was screaming in my mind. I just thought we’d have sex then watch a movie or something. I wasn’t expecting her to really go through with the whole slave/mistress thing.
“Your name for the weekend is Comet and you are not to speak without permission.” As I stared at her with what I’m sure was a fish-out-of-water look, she managed to maneuver me into the bedroom. “Don’t be long,” she said as she left the room after giving me a slap on my ass.
I looked ridiculous, standing in front of the full-length mirror with nothing on but that jersey. What was this, a child’s size? It was tight across my breasts and barely hung past my hips. My crotch was only half covered and my asscheeks hung out. My legs had never seen the sun or a razor. As I stood there in front of the mirror, I once again took the liberty to curse out Diana Taurasi, Sheryl Swoopes, and the state of Texas.
“Oh, Comet, dear, I’m waiting,” Shea called in a singsong voice, interrupting the start of the very good mope I had going.
“This sucks.” I took a deep breath to prepare myself for my humiliation and left the room.
“There you are.” The smirk on her face told me she knew exactly what I was thinking about her little surprise costume. “I have a craving for a banana split,” she said. “Gather the ingredients and take them out to the Arizona room.” Without another word she left me to my task.
She h
adn’t told me to make her a banana split, just to gather the ingredients. With that in mind, I rummaged through her kitchen for the items. It appeared Shea had all the ingredients prepared and waiting. I listed each item aloud to help me remember everything. “Let’s see, ice cream. Chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry.” I took out the three separate gallon-size containers and stacked them on the counter. “Chopped walnuts, pineapples. Ew, don’t like them.” I left the crushed pineapple in the icebox. “Cherries, butterscotch topping, chocolate syrup, and whipped cream. Oh, bananas, can’t forget them. That’s the most important ingredient.”
After I had all the items gathered, I wondered how I’d carry them all out to the room without making more than one trip. “Oh, yes.” I spied the supply of plastic grocery bags stuffed inside another bag hanging on the wall. I managed to take everything out in one trip.
Shea was stretched out on a lounge chair watching me as I crossed the threshold. I was very self-conscious of my butt hanging out, but she never took her eyes off me. Turning my back to her, well aware she had an unobstructed view of my bare ass, I removed the items from the bags and placed them on the table.
“Name everything off as you place the items on the table,” she said.
I rolled my eyes at her Cleopatra voice but did as instructed. When I laid the last item down, she asked, “No ice cream scoop? Were you planning on dishing it out with your hands?”
“Shit.” The word was barely out of my mouth before I felt her body press into my back.
“I didn’t give you permission to speak, Comet.” Her hands grabbed my inner thighs and spread them as she pulled me into her body, causing me to lose balance. My hands slapped down on the table in an instinctive reaction to keep from falling. “Am I going to have to discipline you, already?” she said.
My nipples hardened as she bit my earlobe. I gasped, not from pain but from surprise at how my body responded to her touch. I was used to being the one in control and dictating the course of events. This wasn’t the way I was used to being with anyone, much less Shea.
She released my earlobe. Her mouth kissed down my throat and licked my pulse point, which was beating erratically. One of her hands slid up my thigh to grasp my crotch. Her other hand traveled up my body to cup a breast. Her thumb rubbed circles over my nipple. I couldn’t keep my breathing from escalating. I heard a groan, probably from me, but I hoped it was her.
Just when I thought she was going to slide her fingers through my wetness, she pulled her hand from my crotch and turned me to face her. Her hand twisted in my short brown hair and pulled my head back. As our gazes locked, I saw gold flecks dancing with desire in her brown eyes. Our lips were just inches away from each other. I waited anxiously for that first kiss, a kiss we had never shared, a kiss that would redefine our relationship forever.
“Take everything back to the kitchen and put it away,” was all she said before releasing me and leaving the room.
“Fuck.” I closed my eyes and tried to get my breathing under control. Damn it, what’s wrong with me? I thought. I’m a top. Once I could open my eyes without getting dizzy, I placed everything back in the bags and returned the ingredients to their places in the kitchen.
I didn’t know where she had disappeared to and wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do next. Deciding I’d better find her, I started for the kitchen door. I’d only taken one step when she appeared. Gone were the white shirt and cargo pants, in their place a purple satin robe. Two thoughts crossed my mind as I looked at her. One: Why did I ever think she was butch? Two: I never wanted to be a robe so bad in my life.
Dark blonde hair cascaded around her strong tanned face. Her gaze caressed my body, causing me to tremble with an aching need I’d never felt before. In the two years I’d known this woman, I never once considered her as a possible lover, until this very moment. I truly must not have been paying very close attention.
“Take off that jersey,” she said, her voice low and husky, like I imagined it would sound if she had just woken up. Glad to be rid of the offending thing, I almost ripped it as I struggled out of the tight piece of cloth. I vowed to never put myself in a position to betray my loyalties again. She snatched the jersey from me before I could toss it in the garbage.
“Don’t add to your punishment,” she stated matter-of-factly. She laid the jersey on the counter out of my reach. “Before the weekend is over I may require you to wear it again.” I secretly hoped she’d find it preferable for me to go the whole weekend bare-ass naked. Hell, she’d already seen my entire body. No reason to cover up again now.
“Now it’s time to address your breaking of the rules.” Shea walked closer to me. In a panic I visually scanned her body for any apparent whips or floggers, taking a relieved breath when I realized her hands were empty. I started to worry again when I imagined what might be under her robe. She was close to me by the time my brain had gone through several scenarios, not alighting on a single one that put me back on top.
“Stand with your back against the counter,” she commanded.
I did as instructed. A shiver trickled through me as my bare skin met the cool surface.
“Keep your hands where I place them.” She grasped my wrists one at a time and raised them above my head. She pressed the backs of my hands against the cupboards hanging over the counter behind me. Satisfied with the placement of my upper extremities, she used her knee to spread my legs farther apart.
“Stay like that until I give you permission to move.” She stuck her hand in the pocket of her robe and pulled out a blindfold. I was enveloped in darkness as she settled the blindfold over my eyes. “Do not make a noise and do not move.”
I felt a chill across my body when she moved away. I stayed where she had left me, trying to guess where she was by the sounds. Although I couldn’t see her, I felt her stripping away my every defense with her hidden gaze.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to fuck you?” she said.
I didn’t answer. It had never crossed my mind that she did. I’d just assumed she felt the same way I did about our relationship. She was quickly proving how wrong I was.
“I’m going to stand here and look at you for a while.”
My mind conjured up the picture of her looking at me standing spread open for her to see. I felt myself getting more excited.
“After this weekend,” she said, “I may never get the chance again—might as well make the most of it.”
It occurred to me that Shea might be feeling what I felt when looking at women, and it took all my willpower not to rip off the blindfold and reach for her. I was already wet from our previous encounter. I felt that wetness seep down my thighs the longer I stood with her invisible gaze burning through me.
“I expected you to have a tattoo. Don’t all you badass biker women get tattoos to show off your toughness?” I wasn’t sure if this was permission to speak, so I remained silent. “You may answer, Comet.” I heard the amusement in her voice.
“Having a tattoo doesn’t make you tough,” I said, happy to note that there was hardly a quiver in my voice.
“I have a tattoo.” I felt her step near me. “Are you saying I’m not tough?”
I didn’t answer. Not because she hadn’t given me permission but because my mind was busy trying to figure out what kind of tattoo she would have and where it might be on her body. Then the thought of her body made my pulse jump and lust clouded my mind.
“Answer me, Comet!” Her left hand reached between my legs and pressed into my mound. With her fingers spread wide, she used the heel of her hand to apply pressure, and while it was certainly pleasurable, I was unprepared for how my clit tingled in anticipation. My head fell back in bliss.
“Answer me,” she ordered. She ground the heel of her hand into my crotch. Electric shocks pulsed in my clit and my heart skipped a beat.
Shit, I had no idea what the question was.
She must have sensed my dilemma because she asked, “Do you think you’re tougher than
me?”
“Oh, hell, no.” That was an easy question to answer but my words came out in a hiss of breath between clenched teeth. We had spent several drunken nights comparing childhoods. There was no doubt in my mind how tough she was.
“That’s better,” she said. Something, it might have been her finger, trailed down my skin from my collarbone to my left nipple. “I remember the first time I saw you.” Her finger circled my nipple. “Do you remember?”
I did, but she didn’t give me a chance to answer.
“I was playing softball. You were so busy trying to pick up that redhead, I doubt you even knew there was a game going on. I hit a line drive foul right into your solar plexus. You dropped like a limp noodle.” Shea’s hands roamed over my body as she spoke. The pain in my solar plexus that day was a distant memory next to the aching need I felt under Shea’s touch. I wanted so badly to touch her. The only thing keeping me from moving was my determination not to show any weakness.
“You got your breath back, we went back to the game, and you went back to trying to pick up that woman.” Something warm and wet enveloped my nipple. My brain identified it as Shea’s mouth. I didn’t need my sight to know she was sucking my nipple while her tongue flicked over the surface. My breath left my body, and my bones turned to jelly.
“Don’t move.” Her need-filled voice tickled my nipple, reminding me of the situation. With forced determination, I tried to find the strength to keep from crumbling to the floor. I felt her mouth slide across my chest to the other nipple. Each flick of her tongue sent a jolt straight to my clit. I was sure there was a small lake between my legs.
Shea released my nipple, and I felt her standing erect in front of me. I sensed her hands settling against the counter on either side of my waist as she leaned her body into mine. The whisper of her breath floated across my lips. “I’m not sure who was more surprised when I drove another foul into your solar plexus that day.” I was having a hard time controlling my breathing as her robe-clad, hardened nipples rubbed against my painfully excited ones.
After Midnight Page 12