by Ann Jacobs
She paused. “I’m hoping I’ll find out, though.” Then she sank on him again, took him down her throat and swallowed. If she didn’t stop he was gonna come, and right now he wanted to give as good as he got.
“What say we go up to my suite?” It had a hot tub and a king-size bed with a mirror above it. Right now he was more interested in the bed, but he figured they could have some more fun later in the hot tub. “Zip me up. Before you know it, we’ll be naked and fucking like minks, if the elevators will cooperate.” While she stuffed his throbbing cock back in his pants and zipped them, he grabbed a handful of the condoms someone had smartly included as part of the table decoration. He’d have picked her up and carried her, if only he hadn’t already consumed more champagne than he should have.
* * * * *
Liz was firm and female and all Keith needed to top off the most successful single day of his career. And she made him feel all male, a mindless animal, full of a driving lust that stirred him to fuck her fast and furious, give her everything she asked for.
“I’m not a tender little girl, Keith, you won’t hurt me. Fuck me hard.”
“Like this?” He grabbed her wrists and pounded into her like a jackhammer, bending to bite her neck, consume her mouth. She writhed beneath him, urging him on, screaming with pleasure as she convulsed around his cock, drew out his own climax. He yelled, a shout of triumph he’d never felt so strongly before then collapsed on her, spent. Their hearts pounded in unison.
Until now he’d never had sex without tenderness, without some form of affection beyond the animal need for a woman. Any woman. But Liz evoked that heat, the pure sexuality that was nothing less, nothing more than carnality at its finest.
Not wanting to crush her, Keith rolled over and dragged her so close he felt her heart pounding against his chest. “Thank you,” he said, not knowing if he should change condoms and fuck her again or try for a show of post-sex affection. “Wanna relax in the hot tub?”
“Sure.”
This was a fantasy, one he’d occasionally acted out in his dreams. But tonight it was real. A semi-nympho groupie was clawing at his back as hot jets of water poured over them. His cock was buried deep in her steaming cunt. She asked for nothing but his cock to pound her pussy so she could tell her friends she’d been fucked by the Super Bowl MVP the night after the big game.
It felt good. Weird, but very good. Surreal in a way, he thought as the fog of champagne was beginning to wear off. Lifting Liz off him, he stepped out of the tub and toweled himself off. “Come on, baby, let’s go back to bed before we drown.” He kissed her full on the lips, felt for the first time that this was wrong. That something important was missing from this scene. As fast as he’d fallen for her blatant invitation, he now felt cold.
He didn’t know exactly when things shifted, maybe after they’d fucked two or three times, but he found himself staring at the mirrored ceiling while Liz blew him off again, his thoughts wandering somewhere else. To a young, quiet woman with silky hair who’d stood on a ladder on Christmas Eve. To the hopeful smile on her face, the soft touch of her lips.
Keith pushed that thought away, did what he needed to do. But when it was over this time, he rolled away, feigning a not completely fake exhaustion. The adrenaline was burning off, and his cock was no longer calling the shots.
Yeah, it was a great high, while it lasted. But he was no kid. Tomorrow was Jack and practice and bills to pay, the ups and downs of every day. He needed a companion, someone to share his life, not just a hot chick to blow him. If he’d had Tina beneath him in a bed, after he brought her to a screaming orgasm he’d want to hold her in his arms, hear her whisper in that soft, sweet voice that she was going to check on Jack, anticipate her coming back to him.
Something right and complete, and not just spur of the moment. That’s what was missing. He felt it keenly enough to know he was going to wake up in the morning and realize this had been a mistake.
* * * * *
Yeah. He was right. This had been an interlude, pleasant enough. Liz must have sensed his withdrawal, because when he woke the next morning, she was gone, sparing them the awkward goodbyes. But she’d left a note, written on a piece of the Monteleone’s complimentary stationery.
Hey, Keithie baby, don’t feel bad, I wanted last night as much as you did. I could tell toward the end, though, that your heart wasn’t in it. I’ll be watching you on the field, and available any time if you ever want to play. Thanks for the memories… Liz.
She’d made it easy on him, and that made him feel bad. He had the world’s worst headache. Your own fault, you should have laid off the champagne before your brain started swimming in it. He didn’t know if it would have been better if he’d been so drunk he couldn’t remember he’d had Liz give him head in the middle of the postgame celebration or that they’d fucked at least three times before he started to sober up and came to his senses.
This wasn’t the kind of life Keith wanted for the rest of his career. Partying hard might do it for a lot of pro athletes. Fellow Hedgecock County star Dave Delaney had turned postgame carousing into an art form, if half the rumors around the league were true. But Keith had been domesticated early. He’d do without sex before fucking any willing female that walked just so he could blow off steam and maybe hurt some woman who should have been looking for a lover, not a one-night stand.
He lay alone in the big bed, his eyes closed. The playboy image wasn’t for him. He wanted a woman to want him because he was Keith Connors the man, not Keith Connors the Super Bowl MVP. He wanted a woman, not a trophy wife to make all his teammates drool with envy. A woman who could make him feel again, who could be a mom to Jack and love him as if he were her own child. The way Tina did.
Unexpectedly, he recalled Bobby and Marly’s wedding, a brief flash of how Tina had looked. At the reception, she’d sat holding Jack, nuzzling his curls. She’d worn a wistful expression, seemed sad as she watched Bobby and Marly take their first dance as man and wife. He’d been fighting off the maid of honor’s determined passes, but he remembered it now, clearly enough. No doubt about it. Tina was the sort of woman a man could take home. She was no sex bomb, but she fired his blood. Every time they were together, if he was going to be completely honest about it.
There was that kiss on Christmas Eve. And the warm feelings that flowed between them when they came home from the team’s turkey giveaway and he brushed his lips across her soft cheek.
The warmth had stayed with him for a long time after he kissed her and Jack goodbye before coming here a week ago today. The sweet, minty taste of her mouth suddenly came to the forefront of his mind, along with the feeling of rightness that had swept over him when he held her, his son laughing between them.
She’s too young. Too tender. Unless you’re in love with her—unless you want her not just now but for the rest of your lives—you mustn’t hurt her. Lying back against the pillows in a room that smelled obscenely of fresh sex and stale perfume, Keith closed his eyes and waited for the pounding in his head to go away.
Chapter Four
Memphis, eight days later
Keith tossed back a shot of single-malt Scotch, hoping it would shut down the fast-forward mode in his brain. It didn’t. Neither did staring at the flames in the fireplace or reviewing a tape from a game he’d missed during the season that just ended. Jack was fast asleep upstairs, and Tina had turned in for the night. The housekeeper, Mrs. Gardner, had long since retired to her apartment over the garage.
A fierce wind whipped through the trees outside, pushing water from the lake up onto the dock and patio where it immediately froze into a treacherous glaze of ice. Limbs crackled, the sounds ominous. The girl on The Weather Channel had predicted several inches of snow tonight, a relative rarity in Memphis, and if she was right they’d be pretty much confined in the house until the mess melted off. Memphis didn’t have enough snow plows to get that much of it off already icy streets.
Normally Keith played golf nearly
every day during the off-season, but this wasn’t exactly golfing weather. Staring out the bank of windows and French doors, he watched snow come down. Shit, he probably wouldn’t even be able to drive to the Maulers’ training facility to do his daily workout, and talking with the trainers and a few fellow players who lived in Memphis year-round was about the only pleasurable human contact he looked forward to these next few weeks, outside of playing with Jack and Tina.
He paced around in the game room, finally picking a pool cue from the rack on the wall and listening a moment later to balls breaking on the table with a satisfying splat. It was okay that he’d dumped the cue ball. It wasn’t as if he’d thrown a pick-six, or even an incompletion. Playing quarterback for the Maulers was his job. Playing pool was supposed to be fun.
Fun, hell. He guessed he was cranky because, in the aftermath, he realized that even winning this Super Bowl hadn’t brought the lasting emotional high it had the first time he and the Maulers did it together three years ago. He guessed the celebration and his drunken interlude with Liz had been an aberration.
Tell the truth, this win had left Keith with an empty feeling, as if he’d hit the pinnacle and had nowhere further to go. It didn’t help that he’d missed six games during the regular season or that he felt that Bobby Anthony had done as much as he’d accomplished to secure the divisional championship. Lucky bastard, he was enjoying a belated honeymoon with Marly on some tropical Caribbean island.
For a moment Keith imagined himself and Tina sipping frozen margaritas in a place like that, listening to waves breaking across a white-sand beach. The fantasy beat the reality of a stormy night in Memphis all to hell.
He missed an easy shot on the two ball. After missing and digging the pool cue into the felt, he set the cue down. No need to rip the table top in a fit of emptiness. He had to get a grip. Tomorrow was the anniversary of Jackie’s death. Worse, her parents would be descending on him, commemorating her death by doling out their guilt and condemnation in person under the guise of visiting their grandson on his birthday.
The impending anniversary explained a good part of his moodiness tonight. Despite the bad times, he and Jackie had some good years, made good memories together. He’d had a partner, somebody to listen to and share things with other than when he needed to talk about his career. This house was too damn big and cold not to have somebody to share it with. It was time for him to move ahead.
He wanted Tina.
There, he’d said it if only to himself. He just wished he believed they were right for each other. He was certain she was right for him, but that wasn’t enough, knowing he’d been a lousy husband once and might let history repeat itself. Keith threw back the rest of the shot, savored the burning sensation in his throat.
The wind was blowing so hard outside that the floor-to-ceiling windows seemed to shake. Somewhere near the lake a limb shattered and slammed to the ground, helpless against the strain of ice and wind. Keith looked through the window but couldn’t see the fallen limb. Only darkness, bittersweet memories and an uncertain future.
A tortured cry cut through the sounds of the storm. His imagination? He thought so at first then listened harder. “No. Please no. Get away from me.” The terrified pleas were coming from upstairs. It had to be Tina, and she sounded as though someone were there, frightening her to death. Threatening her.
Taking the steps two at the time, Keith barreled to her room and flung open the unlocked door. She was sitting up in bed, her arms wrapped around her body, horror reflected in blue eyes that seemed almost black. They glistened with unshed tears.
“Tina?” He had to do something. But what?
Over these months, from her initial wary reserve around him, to her reaction to Willis’ anger, to Bobby’s vague references to problems with her stepfather in Hedgecock, a picture had been building. Keith hadn’t wanted to look at it too closely, hadn’t intended to get so involved.
But he was going to get involved now. Somebody had hurt Tina once, and he wasn’t about to let that happen again. Not even in her nightmares.
He didn’t hesitate. He moved to the bed, sat on the edge and wrapped his arms around her. His touch seemed to bring her back from her own private hell and loosen the taut muscles that had her practically immobile. He laid his cheek against hers, spoke just above a whisper so as not to spook her. “It’s okay. Cry it out. I’ve got a good shoulder for leaning on.”
She was shaking like a leaf, and her skin was clammy. “I—I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you. It just seemed so…so real.” As though she needed reassurance that he was there and real, she clutched him, fisted her hands in the fabric of his sweatshirt. “Please don’t go.”
“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Why don’t you tell me about it? Sometimes it helps to get whatever’s scaring you out so you can see it can’t hurt you in the light of day.” When she just shook harder he brought her head onto his chest and stroked her back to try to soothe her. “I won’t let anybody hurt you.”
He’d never felt so helpless, so angry at whoever the bastard was who’d caused this sweet, caring girl to quake with fear. He also felt himself starting to react to her feminine softness but willed his body to behave. “Come on, let’s go downstairs by the fireplace and have a drink while you tell me about this bogeyman that has you scared to death.”
She only burrowed deeper, clasped him as if he were an anchor in the storm that had engulfed her. “Hold me. Please hold me.”
“All right.” Though he’d already made a decision to move forward with exploring a relationship with her, he knew this wasn’t the time, so he used all those earlier rationalizations as he worked to calm down his libido. How she was ten years his junior, not long away from her teens. That she’d been a pesky tomboy he recalled from his childhood.
That she was wearing a fairly sexless sleep shirt, one that was thin and soft and let him feel her body beneath it… This wasn’t working…
Not working at all. His damn twitching cock would just have to suffer. But there was something about being in her bedroom, the feminine smell of fresh linens and flowers on a bedside table that had him thinking about loving her fears away. He drew a mental picture of himself, stretching her out on top of these crisp, white sheets and covering her not with the comforter but with his own aching body. If he didn’t get them to someplace neutral, he’d be seducing her while her thoughts were still on the terror she’d just faced in her mind. That wouldn’t be right for either of them.
Keith scooped her up, surprised at how light she felt as he carried her downstairs and set her on the one end of the sectional sofa in front of the fireplace. He noticed a fire was still smoldering. Needing to put a little distance between himself and Tina, he laid another log on the grate then strode to the bar and filled two brandy snifters with Louis XIII Fine Champagne Cognac from a bottle one of the team owners had given him for Christmas.
“Here, you’ll feel better if you drink this.” He joined her but sat at a safe distance on the opposite end of the sofa and sipped his drink. “Tell me about why you left Hedgecock so abruptly.”
“After Mom died, h-he came after me.”
“Who? Your stepfather?” Keith tamped down on the fury he felt when she nodded, saying nothing, hands trembling so the amber liquor in the snifter quivered. “He left me alone until after Mom died. But then…then he started touching me, cornering me. Pushing me against the wall and grinding himself against me. Saying filthy words about what he intended to do.” She paused. “His breath stank of cheap whiskey and rotten teeth, and he wouldn’t stop, not even after I moved out of the house where I thought he couldn’t get to me.”
She lowered her gaze, stared at her drink. “He caught me in a storeroom at the school cafeteria where I was working. He raped me. And he still comes back at night in my dreams. I’m so afraid.” Her tone was flat, almost as if she were talking about somebody else’s nightmare and not her own. But tears streamed down her cheeks, denying any lack of emoti
on on her part.
Apparently she’d counted on Bobby to chase away her demons when she followed him to Memphis, only to find him engaged to Marly Ragusa. But since Bobby had never mentioned the actual events that had driven Tina away from Hedgecock, Keith doubted that she’d ever told him exactly what had gone down. Keith sensed she’d kept the memory buried deep inside, and that this was the first time she’d told anybody the complete story. Hearing how her stepfather had raped her had Keith’s blood boiling, his fists aching to choke the life out of the fucking pervert who’d hurt this lovable young woman.
Tina sat in the glow of the fireplace, seemingly calm now that she’d explained what had her waking, terrified, even now when she was safe and seemed happy to be taking care of Jack. Keith felt flattered that she’d trusted him enough to tell him…and that she could be sitting less than four feet away from him and not be trembling in fear.
He imagined most women who’d gone through what she had would have wanted to keep a safe distance from all adult men. But Tina often joined in when he played with his son, and she’d never given Keith any indication that he or any of his friends who’d come over to the house had frightened her. “I’m surprised you don’t seem to be afraid of all men, me included.”
“I trust you.” She looked up, met his gaze. “You’re a good man, nothing at all like him. I’ve never thought that all men were like him. Edgar Garcia is a monster. He’s not any part of a human being.”
In the time she’d been living there and taking care of Jack, Keith had thought of Tina as that kid she used to be, the tomboy he vaguely remembered from his own teenage years. Holding on to that picture of her had kept him from acting on the vague arousal he’d experienced when she was near. But it changed for good a few minutes earlier when he’d held her, felt her ripe breasts pressing against his chest, her warm breath making sensual patterns on his throat.