by Lindsay Becs
She signs off and stops recording, takes both our mics and puts them away. Then, turning around to face me again, she pauses a minute before she’s jumping into my arms, her mouth on mine as soon as I catch her, and I enjoy the feeling I’ve missed for too long.
Until I wake from my haze and pull back.
19
Instructors who say “last one” are the reason I have trust issues.
JUNIPER
I don’t know what has taken over me, but I basically maul Troy like a lion after its prey.
He made me so angry with how much of a dick he was being. Then, he decided to get dirty and knew exactly what buttons to push to turn me on. I’m horny like a teenager, my body buzzing with a needy want that has to be satisfied or I think I might explode.
My mouth latches to his immediately when he catches me in his arms, my legs locking around him like they always do. My worked-up, sensitive center meets the head of his hard cock in his shorts, and I about orgasm just from that I’m so wound up.
We kiss, wet and hard and sloppy, meeting each other bite for bite, kiss for kiss. our tongues plunging together, dueling for dominance. I’m moaning loudly, and I don’t care who hears as long as it doesn’t stop.
But it does.
Troy stops. Halting our kiss, he pushes away. I’m still in his arms, but he slowly lets me down to my feet, and I try hard to keep my eyes from rolling back when I feel his cock slowly slide against me.
He takes a couple steps back before turning to give me his back. Pressing his hands to the wall opposite from me, he leans into it.
“Troy.” I say his name, but it falls short, not knowing what else to say and suddenly feeling embarrassed by my actions.
“What do you want?” he asks quietly, sounding defeated.
“Will you look at me?” I ask and he turns around, leaning his back against the wall now with his arms crossed in front of him. He lifts a defiant brow at me. “I want you,” I tell him, lifting my arms and letting them fall, smacking my legs.
“You have a funny way of showing it, Juniper. Where have you been?” he asks, sounding agitated.
“At Bianca’s and working,” I tell him, literally, knowing that’s not really what he’s asking.
“You tell me you want to talk and then don’t show up. You don’t answer my calls. Then my agent tells me I have to meet you here to work, and you act like nothing has happened. What the fuck?”
Swallowing nervously, I finally look up at him, meeting his eyes. “I’m scared, Troy. I’m scared about everything. I’m scared about how I feel, about what I want, about the media, about you, about my job, about where to live. I’m scared about everything, and I don’t like feeling this way. I’ve never felt this before, and I don’t know what to do with all of this fear,” I admit to him honestly. “And the last time I came close to having something like this, the guy cheated on me.”
He softens then. “Talk to me,” he says, gentler this time. “You should have told me that before. Tell me you’re scared so that I can be there to help ease your fears. Be honest with me. Don’t push me away and run.”
I let out a breath, feeling like it’s the first real breath I’ve taken in days, and a tear slides down my cheek. Troy takes the three strides to stand in front of me, wiping it from my face.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I tell him quietly.
“Stop running.”
“Do you forgive me?” I ask him with hopefulness.
He stares at me for what feels like hours before his face falls. “Fuck,” he sighs, leaning in to kiss me.
It doesn’t take long for that kiss to turn heavy and frenzied, both of us stepping out of our shoes as he pulls my shirt off and then fists the back of his to remove it. His hands cup my breasts as his tongue invades my mouth again.
He pushes my sports bra up to rest on top of my boobs. His hands push them together, and he lowers his mouth to lick across both of them, making my head fall back. When his mouth latches on, sucking both nipples together into his hot mouth, I moan loudly into the open room.
Sinking to his knees, he pulls my leggings down, dragging them off one leg to throw it over his shoulder. His tongue flattens and licks me from back to front. My hands go into his hair to hold him there when he starts to suck my clit, grazing his teeth over it when he pulls off. When he adds a finger…two…and curls them inside me, I come undone in seconds.
Coming out of my fog of pleasure, he puts my leg on the ground and starts to stand, but I push his shoulder for him to lie back. He pulls me down with him but rolls so I’m on my back. Pushing his shorts down his thighs, he doesn’t wait, pushing inside me all at once. Our loud moans mix and bounce off the walls of the room in an echo.
He starts to thrust, hard and punishing. “Troy,” I pant. “I’m getting mat burn on my ass.”
“Maybe you deserve it as punishment.” My mouth hangs open in shock. “Better shut that or I’m going to have to fill it with something.”
I snap my mouth closed, but only for a second before he pulls out only to slam back into me, drawing another moan from me.
Still inside, he rolls us so I’m straddling him. Smacking my ass, he tells me, “Better get riding.”
“You aren’t being nice.”
“Don’t act like you don’t like it, baby. You forget I know exactly what you like,” he says as he pinches my nipples and bucks his hips, practically bucking me off.
Bracing my hands on his chest, I dig my fingers in, rising up before slamming back down, earning me a curse from him this time. I do this a couple times before leaning back, hands on his thighs now while I rock on him. One hand reaches back between his legs to find his balls, rolling them in my hand.
“If you want another orgasm, you better stop doing… hmm… that. I’m about to come, Ip.”
I don’t stop.
It’s the least I can do to make up for keeping him waiting.
He tenses, his balls pulling tight in my hand as he fills me and growls through his orgasm.
Deciding to be a tease, I rise up and lower back down one more time. He grips my hips to hold me still, making me laugh.
“Good?” I question.
Laughing, he pulls me down onto his chest. We’re a mess, clothes hanging half off our bodies and on the floor in disarray. He kisses me on the head.
“Will you come home now?”
“I’ll think about it,” I tease. He smacks my ass, squeezing it hard in his grip. “Okay, okay!”
After we awkwardly clean up, we make our way out, avoiding the eyes of other gym-goers and employees, knowing full well that they heard us.
Troy has a car waiting to take him home, and I jump in with him. Once there, we shower while we wait for food to be delivered.
Pulling on my favorite shirt of his, I make my way out to the kitchen to get waters and silverware for us. He joins me not long after, wearing only a pair of clean gym shorts.
Wrapping me in his arms, he kisses me, but we’re interrupted by a knock on the door. Troy answers, pays and brings our food in.
“Tell me what scares you most,” Troy pushes as we spoon Chinese onto our plates.
“I need a drink,” I mutter, standing to go in search of a bottle of wine to open. Once successful, I sit back down at the table and take a large gulp.
Troy looks at me with a mixture of amusement and question on his gorgeous face.
“You’ve met my mom,” I start. “I’ve told you some about my childhood and how I grew up.” He nods. “I always promised myself that I wouldn’t rely on a man to take care of me. That I would work and do what I loved and made me happy.”
“But you’ve done that. You have a job you love, and you don’t need me. In that way, at least.”
“You’re right,” I say slowly. “But being with you makes my job harder. I want to be there at your games. I want you to be able to talk about them. You shouldn’t have to box up the majority of your life the second you get home because of me.”
“Even if you don’t now, you will.”
“I would never make you choose. Sure, it might suck some days not to be able to have you there or talk to you about my day or a game I played, but I won’t ever force your hand.”
“I know you won’t. That’s part of why I love you so damn much.” I pause and smile at him, taking his hand in mine. “I was beginning to consider changing my show or finding a new job altogether. I’ve been thinking about marriage and a future with you more than I have in my whole life. And it wasn’t so much the act of getting married so much as it was that my whole way of thinking and my priorities were changing, and that scared me.
“Then when the story and photos hit about you, it all just came crashing down in a jumble of questions and fears, and I didn’t know what to do with all of them.”
“Keeping your distance definitely helped,” he deadpans. “You should have told me all of this before.”
“I know that’s what I should have done. I don’t know why my response was to run. I’ve never run from anything before in my life.”
“Should I be happy I’m the first?” He tries to joke, but I know it hurts him.
I take another big gulp of my wine. “I needed time to think about all of it and sort through what I really truly want.”
“Which is?” he asks cautiously.
Meeting his eyes, I simply say, “You.”
I watch as his face morphs into the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. His eyes shine, the smile taking over each and every perfectly formed feature. How did I land a guy as hot as him? Swear, I could just sit and stare at him and orgasm from that alone.
20
I bet it’s called almond milk because no one can say nut juice with a straight face.
TROY
I send a silent apology to Juniper before I turn on the blender. It’s five in the morning, and I have to be at practice in less than an hour. I dumped everything in the blender to make my favorite wake-up power and protein shake to start the day.
My body is tired and achy from the past week. Between the stress and not sleeping well, to the horrible game day where I tried to kill myself running six miles afterward, to all the make-up sex that Juniper and I have been having, everything is catching up with me.
Brutus picks up his sleepy head from his pillow where he settled in after following me out of the bedroom. Tracking his line of sight, I take in the sleeping beauty that’s walking like a mummy toward me.
Her hair is a mess, and her eyes are barely open as she rubs them. Her bare legs make their way to me, where she falls against my chest, trying to burrow in as close as possible.
“Morning,” I say, kissing her on the head as my arms wrap around her, her fresh-from-bed warmth heating me up.
“Loud noises,” she mumbles into my chest.
I chuckle into her hair. “Sorry, I was making a shake. You want some?”
“No, those taste like ass.”
“I kinda like your ass,” I smile, giving it a squeeze.
She hums, which does nothing to help me move to leave. I need to head out, but nothing can halt me better than this woman and having her sexy little body pressed against me.
Groaning, I reluctantly tell her, “I have to go, babe.”
“If you have to,” she grumbles back.
“What do you have today?”
Stepping back and farther away than I want her, she rubs at her sleepy eyes again with a yawn. “I’m recording a hockey game, I think.” She gives a confused look to the air. “Or may it’s a football game. I’m not sure.” She shakes her head. “I’m recording today is all I remember right now.”
Chuckling, I walk up to her, closing the distance she just put between us as I cup her face and tilt it up to take her lips. “Mmm…morning breath, my favorite.”
She smacks my chest with a laugh. “Go, before you’re late.”
I kiss her again, not really caring about her breath, grab my shake and head out the door. It’s so much easier to leave when she’s still asleep in bed. But the mornings she wakes up, leaving her is sweet torture.
I’m so pussy-whipped for her, and I don’t even care.
Downing the last remaining drops of my shake, I walk into the locker room, rinsing my cup before stashing it inside my bag. After changing and lacing up my cleats, one of the assistant coaches tells me Coach wants to see me in his office. Dropping my head before answering with a “yes, sir,” I make my way there.
Coach is behind his large mahogany desk when he tells me to come in and sit. Taking a seat in front of him isn’t new, but it’s still unsettling when you’re summoned here.
“Coach,” I greet as I sit.
He takes a deep breath and leans back in his seat with his hands clasped behind his head. “Troy, you didn’t listen to me.” I give him a quizzical look before he continues. “I told you to get your head in the game, and you didn’t. We lost a game we shouldn’t have because you fucked up,” he says, sitting forward now. “It’s not my business to get into your personal life, until it affects your performance on my field and my team. You played like shit. The team carried you the first half, but that could only last for so long. I’m disappointed.”
He says those two words that gut any player when they hear them from their coach. No one wants to disappoint their coach, teammates, fans, family, and that’s exactly what I did. I know it is. I know he’s right, but it doesn’t punch me in the gut any less hearing him say it out loud.
I have no excuse. “I know, Coach. I’m sorry I let you and everyone else down.”
“Damn right, you’re sorry.” He stares at me a second before he asks, “Have you gotten your shit sorted out since then?”
I nod and swallow. “I have.”
He snorts. “Just a little too late, huh?” Shaking his head, he takes in another deep breath. “You put me in a shit position, you know that?”
“I’m sorry, Coach. It’s not going to happen again. I have no excuse for you, and I know I showed anything but professionalism on the field. But I promise it will not happen again.”
“You’re on probation,” he says simply, and my heart drops.
“What?”
“I’m not benching you. Yet. But one more fuck-up, and I will.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You give me your all—more than a hundred percent—in the next weeks and nothing will change. But one drop, Troy.” He pauses to give a look that assures he means every word. “One, and your ass is warming the bench. You hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re mine at practice today. Welcome to your first day of hell week.”
“Can’t wait, Coach,” I lie with a smile, because I’ve seen what he does when other teammates have stepped out of line and had their own versions of hell week with Coach.
“Go. I’ll see you out there.”
Leaving his office, I let out a deep sigh when I close the door behind me. Guess it could have been a lot worse.
I finish getting ready for practice and walk out on the field. Dante slaps me on the shoulder when I walk past him. He already knows the hell I’m in for as I take my place in the corner of the field, Coach’s favorite spot to torture players.
I spend the next three hours on the field with Coach going through drill after drill, sweat falling in buckets off of me. He gives me a fifteen-minute break before he tells me to meet him in the gym, where he works me hard for another two hours. Thankfully, at this point, he sends me out for a two-hour break before I’m to be back to start it all over again.
Lucky me.
After downing a Gatorade and taking a quick cool shower, I dress and head out. The driver pulls up to Juniper’s work building, and I ask him to wait, knowing I can’t stay for long.
Sipping on water as I make my way to her office, I don’t miss the looks and stares I get. I didn’t cover my face with my usual hat this time, and I don’t
usually make appearances at her work, but I’m on a time crunch and need to talk to my girl face to face.
I walk inside the first door that separates the seating area she uses for interviews and such from her actual office. The light outside is on, letting others know she’s recording on the other side of the door.
There’s a large window where you can look in on her and see her doing her magic. She lights up the whole room with her animated gestures, that even though her listeners can’t see, she does anyway because that’s just her.
I push the button on the wall that lets me listen in while she records on the other side. Leaning against the wall, I observe through the window as she watches a game on one of her monitors while wearing headphones. Her voice fills the small sitting room, and instantly I smile.
“Ohhhh…you just got checked, son!” she yells, half laughing while covering her mouth. I laugh with her as she continues to watch. It doesn’t take long for me to catch on that it’s a hockey game.
“I always wonder what it would look like if these guys all of a sudden did a twirly jump like the figure skaters do in the Olympics. I, for one, would be a huge fan of this being added to the game. Hey, Coach! Can we make this happen?” she asks, then chuckles at her own joke, ending with a snort.
“We are down to the last, I think, thirty seconds of the game, but it could be the quarter or half or however they break this game down. Which makes me also wonder: why can’t all games be the same with this? It would make things so much easier to learn. I appreciate football in this regard. Quarters. Easy enough. Bigger break for half. I mean, everyone knows how quarters work. Four of them do make a dollar.” I cover my mouth to keep from laughing too loud as I listen to her, not wanting to disrupt her rant. She’s so damn adorable.
“Maybe I’m just a bigger fan of football because I enjoy a certain player now. Call me biased, but really, come on. Ser—Oh, shit! Did you guys see that? That puck thing just bounced off the net and hit that dude in the junk. Hope they wear a cup thing or he’s not having babies anytime soon.