by Jessa Kane
I cry out, my limbs turned almost limp under a surge of lust, but I manage to curl my fingers in his waistband and draw the red sweatpants down, the breath catching in my throat when I see him for the first time. And I’m so glad he drove me to this fever pitch before seeing his erection, because I think the generous size of it would have scared me if I wasn’t so desperate. So drenched and achy.
“Just like we practiced, Greta,” he heaves, his body flexed in anticipation, eyes on me, hungry but grounding. “It’s going to feel so good, angel.”
“I know, Daddy,” I whisper, rising up on my knees into a straddle above his hips, watching his eyes roll back in his head when I drag the smooth, pulsing head of his manhood through my wetness, knowing how to give him pleasure on instinct. Yes, instinct is taking over, making me desperate to satisfy my partner. It’s like something inside of me snaps up control, something driven by a quest for pleasure and my worries dissipate completely, once and for all.
When I’ve inched the tip of his shaft inside of me, between that tight ring of nerve endings that ripple and dampen around him, my head falls back and I moan at the ceiling. It’s almost too much to look at Eric, at his seething muscles, the stark lines of his throat that stand out more and more with every inch I slide down, down, until he’s mostly in? I think? We both look down at where our bodies are joining together, the huge trunk of his erection only halfway hidden in my folds and digging my nails into his pectorals, I rock side to side, determined to take more.
“Fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” he chants, sweat breaking out on his forehead, upper lip, the valley in between his pecs. “Jesus, Greta, how tight is that thing?”
I lean down until our foreheads are pressed together. “Tight,” I say, pouting my lips against his hard, sculpted ones, letting him capture me, pull me under into a wild, carnal kiss. A filthy kiss that makes me dig my knees into the bed, just for an anchor against the raging storm of lust, and before I know what’s happened, Eric is planted completely inside of me, a continual growl of agony emanating from his throat, his blues eyes nearly crazed when I draw back to meet them.
“Are you hurting, Greta? Don’t be hurting, angel. God. Please.”
“I’m fine,” I gasp, though the pressure is intense. Intense, but fulfilling. With a promise of something more on the horizon. Something beyond my imagination.
“Thank God. Now ride it,” he instructs through bared teeth, his shoulders flexing against his restraint. “Rub your clit on Daddy. Like I showed you. What did I say about that sweet, little thing?”
“W-we take care of it.” I’m trembling, legs turning to jelly, but I grab hold of Eric’s massive shoulders and use them to propel myself up and back, up and back, a scream lodging in my throat at the new kind of friction. Dirty, slippery, sexual friction that I control. I’m in control of how fast or how slow, how tight the grind. And the power he’s given me makes my throat constrict with gratitude, because my God, it’s nothing short of glorious. Having this man straining, grunting, growing slick with sweat below, his arousal turning thicker, thicker between my thighs.
“Can’t take much more, little girl.” His head tosses on the pillows. “Fuck, it’s so tight. Tell me you’re close.”
“I am,” I manage in a rush, meaning it. Really meaning it, thanks to the slow contraction of intimate muscles between my thighs, pulsing where they cradle him. They squeeze violently and both of us groan brokenly, the pace of my hips kicking into a sprint, dragging my sensitive nub along his delicious length, my nipples riding through his sweat-slicked chest, our mouths in a furious tangle.
“That’s it. You’re fucking me so good, Greta.” He moans, clearly trying to hold back, to wait for me. “Eleven years? I’d have waited centuries for pussy this good.”
And then the wave crashes down on me, sinking me down to the bottom of some soundless purgatory of being right there, right there, before shooting me back up to the surface. To heaven, where the pleasure resides. I scream and bear down on Eric, my hips firing up and back, before pressing tight and holding, tremors wracking me head to toe, my sex pulsing through a release so powerful, it almost scares me.
Or it would have if it wasn’t for Eric’s mouth finding mine, his hips hammering forward and up, our flesh slapping loudly, his strapping body straining to the breaking point, my name on his lips when he blasts over the edge, pressing up forcefully into my body and flooding me with scalding moisture. Eyes blind, jaw slack, he fills me with disjointed pumps, sending rivers of damp down the insides of my thighs. Following instinct, I clamp down around him with the muscles of my sex and he barks a curse, another long spurt of relief entering me through his draining manhood.
I go limp on top of Eric, savoring the harsh breathing that stirs my hair.
“Untie me,” he croaks. “I need to hold you.”
Nodding, I somehow find the strength to move to the side, off his perspiring body so that he can give me access to his wrists. With spent fingers, I tug until the silk knot loosens and then I’m being tackled back onto the pillows, wrestled into the tightest, most secure hug of my life. One I never want to leave.
“Jesus, Greta. I…” His arms pull me even closer. “Don’t make me live without this, please. Don’t make me go back to living without you.”
When I came here tonight, my plan was to keep a part of myself hidden, sacred, but the doors have effectively been blown off of that plan. What just transpired between us wasn’t only sex, it was an exchange of trust and maybe some of our souls. One thing is for sure, I’m not going to leave this house tomorrow the same way I walked in…and with Eric’s arms holding me so securely, that doesn’t scare me. Not the way it should.
Chapter Seven
Eric
“Angel.” I kiss her bare shoulder, my heart squeezing at the adorable frown she makes into the pillow. “Greta, I have an early practice.” I move closer and lick the tip of my tongue down her spine. “Come with me. I don’t want to be away from you.”
“Come with you?” she mumbles, waking up enough to look at me from the corner of her eye. “Wouldn’t it be weird with my father coaching you?”
“He’ll have to get used to seeing us together.” I gather up her hair in a fist so I can kiss the back of her neck. “Especially since I’m bringing you on the road this season. Every season.”
Greta pushes up onto one elbow, fully alert now, and I see her start to panic. Maybe I’m pushing too hard too soon, but I can’t bring myself to take the words back. No. This girl owns me. She stole the heart clean out of my chest last night—no, even before that—and I will have her for my wife. I’ll have her for my everything. Right now, I would love more than anything to press her face down into the sheets and fill her full of cock while explaining very precisely into her ear that she’ll be walking down an aisle immediately. That she’ll be bearing my children.
And I would.
I would explain that she’s going to be a lifelong obsession and there is nothing she can do to stop it, but I’m held back by my lie.
I hate that I lied to her.
That I told her I would sign the contract with LA, allowing her to choose me of her own free will. If Greta knew I left myself a contingency plan in the event she doesn’t choose me, not only would she be pissed, it would hurt her feelings. And I would rather jump from the rafters of the arena than put tears in her eyes. My God, just picturing a crying Greta makes me feel like there’s a bag of wet cement sitting on my chest. I don’t deserve to make demands on her after what I did, but this obsession…it fucking burns. It burns my common sense and decency to ashes.
There is a voice in the back of my head telling me to make the situation right before Greta finds out. To ask for a quick look at the contract and fix the signature. But Rick probably has that contract under lock and key. I can’t risk him finding out what I did and telling Greta after the fact. After he has my corrected signature on the dotted line. Then I would have no recourse. No leverage.
I just have to
hope like hell she chooses to stay with me. Forever.
Just have to hope no one is ever the wiser.
“I’m sorry, you think you’re taking me on the road?” She flops over onto her back and I’m momentarily hypnotized by the bounce of her tits. “What about my classes? I can’t just drop out of school.”
“Tutors.” I palm one of her breasts, rolling the nipples gently between my knuckles and her lips pop open, taking in a rasping breath. “Female tutors.”
“Oh…” Eyes beginning to glaze, she drags her bottom lip through her teeth, arching into my touch. “You’re the jealous type?”
“I never have been. Not over anyone or anything. But you, Greta?” I tighten my hold on her breast while bending down to capture her mouth roughly, kissing her with all of the possessiveness I feel, giving her tit a sharp slap and swallowing the shocked little mewl she makes in response. “Don’t even find out how jealous I can get, little girl,” I growl against her mouth. “Do you understand me?”
Comfort visibly washes over her. Security. Her eyelids grow heavy and she rolls toward me, snuggling close. “Yes, Daddy.”
I trail a hand down her back to palm her backside, making a horny sound in my throat. God, if I had more than five minutes until I need to be out of bed, I’d fuck her so well, I’d have to carry her limp body into the arena for practice. But I find myself needing promises—now—to maintain my sanity. I need a commitment from her or I’ll never be able to concentrate on the court this morning. She’s the most important thing in the world to me, but that also means providing for her. Giving her everything she’s ever wished for. So I need to be on my game, too.
“Greta,” I say, licking into her sexy mouth. “Tell me you’re spending the night again tonight. Every night. Tell me you’re coming on the road with me. I want to know you’re mine before we leave this bed. I need to know.”
She leans back and studies my face. At first, she’s guarded, but her vulnerability begins to shine through the longer we’re looking into each other’s eyes. “I never had a chance,” she whispers. “You made me yours. Now…I don’t think I can go back to before. I don’t want to. I’m yours, Eric.” Her eyes close and I hold my breath, aching to hear the rest, my heart rapping wildly in my ribcage. “And…I love you being my Daddy,” she says, her voice even lower than before. A thread of sound. “It feels so good. Is it supposed to? Feel so perfect?”
Jesus, I was a fool to think I could survive this conversation.
I might die of happiness or astonishment before it’s over.
“I don’t care how it’s supposed to feel. If it feels right for you, angel—for us—that’s what I want. What I need.” I knead her butt cheek a final time, then trail my fingers inward, tucking my middle one up against her tight, virgin asshole, the puckered texture of it making me groan. “I need every single part of you. Need to know you belong to me every second of the day.”
“I do,” she breathes, whimpering when I press down on that digit. “I belong to you, Eric. I can’t help it. You make me break my rules.”
“Tell me you know I’m not like the rest of them.” I press down harder on her sweet back entrance, parting it slightly. “Say it.”
“You’re different,” she gasps, leaning in to sip at my skin, her pink tongue sneaking out to lick at my collarbone, my chest. “You’re my Eric. I know that now.”
“God, thank God.” I didn’t realize how sick it made me, how anxious to know she’d lumped me in with the athletes she’s witnessed behaving badly. I would never hurt her, never betray her…
Isn’t that what you did by signing the wrong name on the contract?
Making her falsely believe you were giving her a choice?
Guilt causes me to stroke her snug hole one more time, before withdrawing my hand reluctantly. “Thank you, Greta. For saying that.” I kiss her shoulder, inhaling her scent desperately. “Dammit, I don’t want to get out of this bed, but it’s my first practice. I need to set the tone for everyone else.”
A smile flirts with her mouth. “And what tone is that?”
“That we show up early, win at all costs. And there’s no slacking off.” Unable to take my eyes off her beautiful face, I force myself to throw back the covers and climb out of bed, wincing over the stiff length of my cock. “I won’t allow my girl to be with anyone less than a champion,” I rasp, stroking myself once, twice, watching smoke drift into Greta’s eyes as she watches the action, her tongue trailing across her bottom lip eagerly.
Come beads on the head of my dick, dribbling down onto my knuckles. “When you’re watching practice today, remember what you’ll be getting between your thighs afterward.” I let out a shuddering breath, imagining her naked, splayed out, moaning for me to go faster. “Think about how it’ll feel, fucking in and out of you. Ahhh, angel. Getting so deep in that tight, juicy pussy. Think about getting ridden hard, like a bad little girl. Should guarantee you’ll be wet enough for me to rip off your panties and thrust right in as soon as the buzzer sounds, shouldn’t it?”
“Yes,” she pants, sounding dazed.
“Good girl.” Still holding my erection, I move to the side of the bed, leaning down to kiss her soft, perfect mouth. “Shower and get dressed. You’re coming with me. We go together. Now and always.”
An hour later, I guide Greta through the players’ tunnel toward the court, my arm around her shoulders. In the seven years I’ve been in the league, I’ve never truly felt like I’ve made it until this moment. Most days I felt like an imposter. Or like I didn’t deserve success after what happened to Wade at that frat party. On my watch. When I should have been there for him. Yeah, I’ve never really felt wealthy until now. Having Greta tucked into my side trustingly is true wealth.
The only kind that matters.
When we come out on the other side of the tunnel, I see I’m the second player to arrive. Coach Welding is there, too, sitting on the sidelines and writing into a notebook. He does a double take when he sees me with Greta. This man is my future father-in-law, not to mention we’re going to be working together to win basketball games. The last thing I need is to be at odds with him, but I can’t help locking in that final claim on Greta. Looking him in the eye while I kiss her forehead, settling her down in a front row seat to observe practice. Leaning down to stroke my tongue into her mouth, I leave no doubt as to what we did last night and what I plan on doing every single night, forever. I’m the only man in her life now.
I tip her chin up, enjoying the fact that my kiss turned her cheeks pink, breathless. “If you need anything while I’m practicing, you let me know.”
“I’m not going to interrupt you.”
“If you need something, angel, I want to know about it.”
Slowly, she nods, her gaze traveling downward from my face to my lap, catching her bottom lip between her teeth and chewing. On the way to the arena, we kissed at every stoplight, our hands constantly reaching for one another across the console of my SUV, brushing skin, teasing. She’s hard up for a fuck, no mistaking it, and I need to get through this first practice with my new team so I can give it to her. God knows I’m burning alive for her, too. Probably won’t have a moment’s peace from my lust for Greta until the very last breath I take.
Greta
It’s safe to say I’m officially over my aversion to basketball players.
Or maybe this newfound appreciation for them is all about Eric?
Oh yeah. Definitely just Eric.
I can’t take my eyes off of him during the practice, my fingers curled into the edge of the seat, legs crossed beneath my skirt to hide panties that dampen every time he barks an authoritative order on the court. My pulse flutters in more than just my veins, there is a pulse between my thighs that beats in a low, tumultuous rhythm, my entire body feeling hot and flushed.
Lord, the way he moves is so fluid. A little bit cocky, but focused.
He lifts his T-shirt to wipe sweat from his brow, briefly revealing that gloriously chisel
ed stomach and I barely trap a moan, squeezing my legs together.
I need him inside of me.
Now.
He told me to think of us having sex while he practiced. So I would be ready for him as soon as the buzzer sounds. And he really didn’t need to give me those instructions, because I can’t control the moving images in my head. Can’t stop the breath sawing in and out of my lungs, the nipples turning to hard, little points inside the thin, blue material of my tank top.
The orange juice I drank this morning means I have to pee now, but I can’t make myself stand. My legs are too wobbly and I’m so wet, I’m worried if I uncross my legs and get up from the seat, moisture will be clinging to the insides of my thighs.
I’m so absorbed by the sight of Eric’s thick calves, his flexing arms, the sexy line of concentration between his brows, that I almost jump out of my skin when a buzzer goes off, signaling the end of practice.
I’m surprised when Eric comes toward me immediately, stripping off his T-shirt and using it to dry the sweat from his skin. Tossing it away in favor of gripping my elbow and pulling me from the seat. Quickly, he hustles me toward the players’ tunnel and down the long, cinderblock hallway, turning right instead of left at the end. Taking me in the opposite direction of the locker room. He opens one door, looks inside and slams it shut with a growl.
Thankfully, he seems to find what he wants behind the second door he opens, because suddenly I’m being pulled inside, crowded up against the door by Eric’s huge, sweaty body, his hands yanking up my skirt without a moment’s hesitation. Without permission. Only confidence. Possessiveness. And I love it.
I love it when he spins me around to face the door and rips my panties off in an aggressive fist, sinking down to his knees behind me. My legs almost give out when he licks me there, his tongue traveling over the pucker between my cheeks, pressing his stiff tongue there and flexing it, jiggling, until I’m gasping into the surface of the door, back arched, offering him my backside for more of the same treatment. And he gives it to me, his tongue relentless on that unbreached entrance while his fingers find their way around my hip to the front of my body. To my sex, his middle and ring finger slipping through my folds, tantalizing that aching bud slowly, firmly, setting off explosions of unimaginable lust in my lower body.