Time Out: A Holiday Sports Romance

by Amanda Heartley

  Avery was enjoying this, every minute of it. I thought I’d reluctantly roused her in the middle of the night to satisfy my own needs, but the fact was, she was up and ready—and just like our first night together—calling the shots.

  Was that why I liked her so much? I wondered, admiring her long, outstretched arms and the way they made her full breasts lean and taut in the moonlight. Because despite her outwardly shy and reserved demeanor, she was a frisky sex kitten in the bedroom, challenging and rivaling me in every way.

  Like now, a sexy smirk on her face, Avery wriggled and squirmed beneath my gaze. “So,” she panted, quivering with anticipation as I gently unwound the sheets from around her ankles. “What now, big boy?”

  “Now,” I sighed, gently tugging at the waistband of my boxer shorts, hiding just beneath her belly button. “I’m going to make you come until sunrise.”

  She shivered, her sardonic smile widening with true abandon. “Sounds… interesting.”

  “How else will I ever get any sleep?” I teased, wriggling the boxers off her hips inch by inch.

  “As a reminder,” she purred, licking her lips in anticipation as the cotton fabric danced down her long, supple thighs, “I was fast asleep until I heard you rustling around in the fridge.”

  “Well,” I teased, pausing with the boxers around her knees, “I couldn’t let the night pass without another orgasm or two, could I?”

  “Me?” she chortled. “Or you?”

  I snorted and waggled my eyebrows. “Let’s start with you, baby doll,” I murmured, tugging first one foot, then the next, free. “Then we’ll see about me.”

  “Or,” she murmured as I inched closer, spreading her thighs wider as mine slid beneath hers, “we could come together.”

  I admired her luscious body. Beautiful and curvy. Soft. Like a woman should be. We faced each other, my thighs beneath hers, both gently spread, as if we were about to play patty cake. She was heavenly and perfect. “I always felt like I could come just looking at you,” I whispered, sliding both hands along her waist as I watched goose bumps scatter across her skin and her nipples stiffen before my very eyes.

  “Funny,” she said, our eyes meeting as she licked her lips. “I feel the same way about you, Craig.”

  I accepted the invitation to kiss her. She leaned forward to kiss me back, but I inched backward, keeping her at a safe distance as I teased and taunted her the way I knew she liked.

  We kissed and teased for a moment, my hands gripping her sides, our lips wet and our tongues hungrily searching each other’s mouths. I gave her lips one final suck and said, “I don’t ever want this to end,” as I thought about the looming possibility of our parents’ wedding.

  “Me either,” she sighed, her breath warm against my face as I nuzzled her cheek. “But we can’t think about that now, remember?”

  I nodded, leaving her with one last kiss before my hands slid up her sides and inward, across her chest, cupping each breast in one hand. “Let’s just hold onto this,” I suggested, as if to myself. “Let’s just bury ourselves in each other until, until—”

  “—until we can’t take it anymore?” she chuckled, her breasts bouncing against my fingertips with the force of her laugh.

  “Sounds good to me.” I caressed each breast then leaned forward to lift them to my lips. I sucked and tasted her flesh, so familiar and fragrant on my tongue. “Maybe,” I suggested, “we should just let our bodies do the talking for now?”

  “Mmmm…at least until sunrise,” she moaned, dragging her body left and right as her nipples danced along my eagerly licking lips.

  “Deal,” I said, biting her left nipple gently to hear her gasp and feel her body tremble.

  We settled into a soft, steamy silence, interspersed only with moans and whimpers as my hands continued to please her well into the early morning. I touched her everywhere, anywhere, whenever and wherever I pleased, taking her lead as she wiggled and squirmed and told me what she wanted and what she didn’t like.

  It felt good to linger on her naked body, no pressure, no dirty talk, no deadline, other than the rising sun. It was still an hour or so away as my fingers settled between her legs, her pussy wet, her body willing as it responded to my every touch.

  I knew she’d come soon—if I let her—and so did she. Our bodies rising and falling to catch the wave and ride it slowly onto shore. While one hand dragged delicate fingertips along her quivering stomach, the other danced along her pussy, making her moan and grind against my hand until she arched and trembled with ecstasy as she came. A soft whimper escaped her lips as she shuddered more violently with her second orgasm, each one building with intensity until her thighs trembled and shook involuntarily on top of my own.

  Her sweat-soaked skin invited me closer as my slick fingers continued to press and probe her velvet pussy to make her come again. I knew she wanted me to stop, so I grabbed her hips with both hands and pulled her closer until my cock slid slowly between the slick lips of her sweet, hungry pussy.

  Just like a mouth, it enveloped my cock in warm wetness and my thighs strained as I pumped it between her lips and into her pussy, again and again. I felt the head rubbing against her swelling G-spot until, grunting, panting, yelling and thrashing like wild animals in heat, we climaxed together.

  I didn’t think this orgasm would be that strong, having already come twice in the last few hours, but it was just as powerful and explosive as they were, leaving my cock throbbing and pulsating inside Avery’s wet pussy.

  When at last I caught my breath, I reached above her head to untie her bonds. I craved to feel Avery’s arms wrapped tightly around my back. We embraced each other as the sun rose on the day after Thanksgiving.

  “Well,” she murmured, arms wound around me as her face slid alongside mine. “You did it. You made me come more than a dozen times before sunrise.”

  “And you made us come together,” I reminded her, squeezing her tight before our fiery skin and pounding hearts forced us apart in case we might explode on contact.

  “I’m not sure I can keep this pace up.” She plopped down onto the mattress and onto her side. I mimicked her posture, facing her as we both rose on one elbow to study each other.

  “You?” I chuckled, admiring the soft glow of her skin from the rising sunlight spilling through her bedroom. “I haven’t been this sore since two-a-day practices last summer.”

  She smiled. “Yeah, but it’s a good kind of sore, right?”

  “The best,” I sighed, body, and mind, growing weary even though the day had just started. “But you’re right, we don’t have to fuck every hour until, you know, your mom marries my dad.”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me,” she groaned, falling dramatically onto her face as she buried it in her pillow. “I thought fucking like crazy for a whole month might be enough to distract me from the horror of being related to you.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I teased, peering down at her perfect ass.

  “You know what I mean,” she said, turning to look at me once more. “I just, don’t know if this is going to work.”

  “Being related,” I teased, lying down so our heads both rested on the same pillow, “or fucking until we forget about being related?”

  “Both,” she said, her face rumpled with indecision.

  I reached out a hand to run through her hair, earning a smile as Avery’s eyes grew sleepy, or perhaps just relieved. “We don’t have to know just yet,” I promised, my words soft to match the tone of the quiet room. “We just have to be together as often as we can, as long as we can, until we can’t anymore, okay?”

  She smiled, nodding at me as we shared her pillow. “I can do that,” she said. “I can’t wait to do that.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to,” I chuckled as her eyes struggled to remain open. “Because for now, I think we could both use some rest.”

  I barely finished my sentence when her nostrils flared, her eyes shut, and Avery was asleep. I smiled, feeling the weight of t
he world lift from my shoulders as my tired body sank deeper into her sagging mattress.

  I had the rest of the day to spend with her, the rest of the weekend and for that matter, the rest of the month. All I needed to do now was get some rest so I could spend every second of that time wisely, right here in Avery’s bed.

  Twenty-Three

  Avery

  I ignored the calendar as I rose from bed, sore and sticky as Craig snored—out like a light. It was mid-December, the sky outside my window a steely gray as mid-afternoon crept across the quiet, deserted campus outside. Classes had already finished for the winter break and my roommate, Missy, had gone home for the holidays two days earlier, leaving Craig and me the place to ourselves until our parents got married.

  I shivered at the thought, turning on the shower and peering at my face, sleepy and disheveled in the foggy mirror as the water turned warm enough for me to walk into. The spray was rejuvenating after another long session with Craig, my legs sore and my pussy even more so. It was hard to believe after almost daily sex with him I still wanted more, but I couldn’t resist Craig’s every touch and tease.

  I smiled at the thought as the hot water rinsed off the taste of him, the spunk of him, the sweat of him as I showered, shampooed and scrubbed myself clean. I lingered beneath the warm, dancing spray long after I’d finished. I was in no hurry to turn off the luxurious warm water, dry off and open myself up to temptation again.

  After all, I knew Craig would still be lying there in my bed—naked and always ready—no matter how long we’d loved each other just moments earlier, or how many times we’d pleasured each other in the days and weeks since my mom and his dad had announced their Christmas marriage.

  Now, with only days remaining before the wedding day, my stomach was in a constant knot of fear, anxiety and disbelief. No matter how hard we tried to fight back the inevitable with long, romantic dinners over half-empty bottles of wine and uneaten pizzas, or long, sweaty sex in my bedroom, the clock was ticking and I could hear it with every breath we took.

  I tried to relax, to just let go, to give into temptation and let Craig distract me from the bitter truth. And to be honest, he had given me hours of endless pleasure, and not just in bed. We’d laughed, we’d cried, we’d talked and watched movies and napped and taken long walks through abandoned, wintry parks. Still, I couldn’t help but imagine the moment when all that goodness, all that romance, all that lust and even love would inevitably, tragically end.

  And the worst part was, the better it got with Craig—and it seemed to get better and better every day—the more I thought about how bad it was going to be when it was all over. Every charming smile reminded me of when I would no longer be able to gaze upon his handsome face. Every orgasm reminded me when I would no longer be able to linger in his bed. Every chuckled tugged at my heartstrings, reminding me of when his laughter would ring hollow from another room, and I wouldn’t be able to follow it.

  I couldn’t believe every sunset brought me that much closer to Craig, and every sunrise brought us that much closer to being apart. I sighed and turned off the water. No amount of heat or moisture or time would give me the proper amount of comfort against the growing dread that, one day soon—too soon—there would be no more Craig in my bed.

  In my life, perhaps. At family gatherings, birthdays, holidays and the like, over the dinner table, perhaps, but never again like I had him now—raw, naked, willing, eager, and possibly, even in love. I quietly dried and dressed in flannel pajama bottoms and a soft, cozy sweatshirt, pulling my hair back casually as if I was alone.

  Perhaps the dowdy getup was a defense against Craig’s further advances, or perhaps I was just getting comfortable having him around and tired of putting on airs. He seemed to like me, even love me, no matter what I wore, or didn’t wear, for that matter. The less the better, as far as he was concerned, and I could hardly believe I’d finally found a boy—make that a man—who desired me as much as Craig did, only to lose him as quickly as I’d got him.

  I puttered around the kitchen, the cold winter air gray and bleary, like my mood as I quietly heated instant coffee. Usually fastidious and well-organized—at least on the home front—Craig had sapped all my maternal instincts until I’d come to live like a homeless person in my own apartment.

  The living room was a shambles, with throw pillows and cushions and clothes everywhere, souvenirs of our nightly—and daily—tussling anywhere and everywhere the mood hit us. In addition to light housekeeping, I’d given up even trying to stay on top of the basics like filing the fridge or pantry. We were down to about two scoops of instant coffee, a couple packs of Ramen, two beers, some ketchup packets from a recent late night burger run and not much more.

  I was stirring my coffee, using a questionably outdated bottle of chocolate milk as creamer, when Craig appeared, dragging on a soft grey T-shirt to compliment his saggy striped boxers. “Do I smell coffee?” he mumbled, making me glad I’d thought ahead and brewed him a cup as well.

  “Mmmm,” he said, taking the mismatched mug and slurping it loudly, despite the steam rising from the murky black surface. “I don’t know what smells better, this coffee or your shampoo.”

  I smirked, sliding over the chocolate milk container. “Try the almost spoiled milk,” I said. “That’ll really get you going.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” he said cockily, pouring in a healthy dollop before slurping up some more.

  I chuckled at his childish antics, buoyed by his playful nature, but bristled when he sidled up behind me and squeezed my ass with the usual expectation of something more. He wasn’t the only one surprised. Normally I’d be receptive to such a touch, even as worn out and sore as I was. But, suddenly, his touch was the last thing I wanted—a shocking development for both of us, indeed.

  “What?” he asked, feeling it instantly and backing off—ever the perfect gentleman and way too alert for his own good. After all, I hadn’t meant to stiffen at his touch. Normally he could melt me into a puddle with a simple smile but suddenly, my anxiety and nerves had gotten the better of me.

  “Nothing,” I said, distancing myself even further by sinking onto the stool on the other side of the kitchen counter from him. I was foolish to think merely distancing myself from his person was enough to keep his—my—our desire at bay, but somehow it helped just enough. “I’m just… tired, you know?”

  “I’m only playing,” he teased, rubbing my hand as he leaned over the counter familiarly, his dizzying smile as tempting as his touch. “You know I just can’t keep my hands off you.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to at some point,” I blurted before I could stop myself. His face, at once so boyish and playful, hardened into a questioning glance even as his hand slid, slowly but purposefully, away from mine.

  “I thought we weren’t going to bring that up for a while?” he reminded me, but his casual tone just sounded smug.

  “Yeah, well, we can’t just keep ignoring it!” My tone was as harsh and unexpected as the words that burst forth from my mouth. Craig reeled back, until he stood with the coffee mug to one side of him.

  “I haven’t been,” he said coolly, unlacing his fingers from the handle. “I’ve just been avoiding it that’s all.”

  I shrugged. “I guess… I guess it’s getting harder and harder for me to avoid it, Craig.”

  He nodded slowly, almost… sadly. “I know it is,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if he was talking about me or himself. “I keep trying to freeze time, you know? Hold it back, just blank it out and… being with you… helps me do that.”

  I felt bad that I’d unloaded on him, but I also knew I wasn’t wrong. “We have to face facts, Craig. We can’t just keep hoping every kiss or orgasm will turn back time!”

  We both laughed at the reference, blushing slightly until our eyes met once more. “I know that, too, Avery. Honest, I do. It’s just… I guess I’m not very good at dealing with reality. Especially when it fucking sucks!”

  �
��Me either,” I said, the long day stretching out in front of us and me, shrinking away from Craig with each sweep of the secondhand. “But with only a little over a week left until the wedding, I think we should probably chill for a few days, you know?”

  He reeled as if I’d struck him in the mouth. “A few days?” he bellowed. “What the… ? I mean…why?”

  “What don’t you get?” I asked, a tad more impatiently than I’d wanted to sound. “I mean, we’re never going to be able to stop groping each other if we just stop cold turkey on Christmas Eve, you know?”

  “Why not?” he teased, smirking again. “I’m really good at going cold turkey! I mean, I gave up banging other chicks the day we met.”

  I snorted at his frame of reference. “Good for you,” I said, offering him a small, sarcastic clap. “I guess I take a little longer weaning off a guy like you.”

  “Fair enough,” he grunted. “But a few days? Why don’t we start with a few hours instead? Even I can probably wait that long.”

  He was an avid negotiator, reaching across the counter to gently caress my hand and when I allowed it, farther up my wrist as well. I was tempted to pull back once more, but I made a quick deal with myself instead—one last time with Craig before I did shut him down for a few days.

  It was the least I could do, I reasoned, as I turned my hand over so that our palms gently slid against one another. A familiar shiver of delight and anticipation coursed through my veins.

  “Damn,” I murmured as he got the message and before I could change my mind, quickly raced around the corner to drag me up and into his arms. “I guess I’m not so good at going cold turkey after all, am I?”

  Twenty-Four

  Craig

  “3 DAYS R UP!”

  I stared at the text message, till sitting unanswered—as they all were—in a long thread of them I’d sent to Avery, but she’d never replied to any of them. They weren’t all in ALL CAPS. At least, not the first days’ worth—or even the second. But all day I’d been trying to convey my impatience in all capital letters. Not that it had worked. Ever since we’d fucked that one last time—madly, passionately, powerfully—and Avery had kicked me out so unceremoniously, I’d been persona non-grata.