The All-Star Antes Up
Page 61
As a shiver of trepidation rolled over her, she was grateful for the lesson. She needed the reminder that behind the molasses drawl and the sexy dimple beat the heart of a stone-cold competitor, willing to do whatever it took to win in a game that was ferociously violent. He had climbed to the top of his world and stayed there for years. You didn’t do that by being a kind, compassionate human being. Even if he still wanted his parents’ approval.
“I like the other smile better.”
The ice in his eyes melted, and the dimple reappeared. “I’d be worried if you didn’t.”
Relief chased the nerves away. Her Luke was back. She gently tugged his shirt out of his waistband and finished unbuttoning it. “Now I get to unwrap you,” she said as she bared his spectacular musculature. “Ouch.” She traced around the splotches of blue, green, and purple on his side, making sure her touch was gossamer light. “That looks even more painful than yesterday.”
“I’ve had worse.” He paused. “It just takes longer to heal these days.”
She glanced up to see a shadow darken his eyes, and remembered that even Dennis said Luke’s age might be catching up with him. To her, he seemed as unalterable as granite, but maybe he was admitting he wasn’t.
He brought one of his hands around to cup her cheek. “You don’t have to look so worried, sugar. I’ll be back on the field next week.”
She feathered her fingers over the vivid bruises again. “I’m just wondering if you should go back so quickly.”
“Christ, you sound like Stan.” He lifted his hand to scrape his fingers through his hair.
“I’d like to meet him.” She didn’t want to dwell on his troubles, so she changed the subject by lightly trailing her fingers along the lines and curves of the muscles that rippled under the skin of his abdomen. He sat with his arms outstretched on the sofa, his head tilted back against the cushions, eyes closed.
She watched his reactions as her hands moved over him, noticing when he sucked in a quick breath or contracted a muscle. There were more scars than she had noticed the night before, some small nicks and some jagged slashes. She ran her fingers over those as well, ever so gently, but he showed no discomfort.
Did he keep playing because he had a high tolerance for pain, or did he simply override it by sheer force of will?
She rose onto her knees to trace her fingertips up the powerful column of his neck and along his clean, sharp jawline, burying her fingers in his hair, combing through it so the different shades of blond glinted in the soft lighting. “It isn’t fair for a man to have such beautiful hair.”
She leaned in to kiss that firm, male mouth, her breasts brushing against his bared chest. A long groan tore out of his throat, and his hands were on her waist, lifting her up and sideways so that she sprawled on the couch. Luke shucked off his shirt and came down on top of her, his knees pushing her legs apart so his erection was pressed against the apex of her thighs.
“You rested?” he asked, letting just enough of his weight land on her so her breasts were crushed against his warm skin. That and the pressure of his cock sent erotic energy coursing through her body.
“You were the one who insisted on a rest period.”
His mouth curled into a wicked smile. “I think you just challenged me.”
She thought of his warrior face and shuddered. “I would never do that.”
He levered himself off her and stripped her black lace panties down over her shoes, tossing them behind the couch. He pulled a condom from his trouser pocket, put the foil packet between his teeth, and unbuckled his belt.
He got the condom on so fast that Miranda simply lay there, mesmerized by the speed and economy of his motions.
Then he was over her again, the head of his cock nudging at the opening between her legs. Very slowly he pushed inside her, so she felt herself stretching around him. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the sensation of being filled in slow motion. It was exquisite torture as she waited for him to seat himself fully inside her, her body craving more, yet wanting to savor what he was doing to it. At last he stopped. She could feel the wool of his trousers brush the tops of her thighs.
She tried to pulse her hips, but his weight held her immobile against the sofa cushions.
“Not yet,” he said, picking up on the tiny amount of movement she managed. He interlaced his fingers with hers, pinning her hands down beside her shoulders while he braced himself on his forearms. He rubbed his chest over the hard tips of her breasts, sending bolts of arousal streaking down to where he was anchored inside her. All she could do was tighten her internal muscles in response.
He exhaled sharply. “You play dirty, lady.”
“Focus of desire.” She squeezed her inner muscles again.
The sound he made was somewhere between a moan and laugh. “Using my own words against me.”
The light banter contrasted in a highly erotic way with having Luke’s cock buried within her.
“I can’t use anything else against you, can I?” She pushed against his immobilizing grip on her hands.
“You’re using your whole body against me.” Nuzzling the side of her neck, he blew gently on each spot he kissed. She shivered at the hot-cold seesaw. He whispered by her ear, “I can feel every inch of your skin on mine.”
“And I can feel every inch of you in me,” she murmured back.
He gave her a little pulse of movement, as though he couldn’t stop himself. It was enough to send flares of sensation through her. “Yes-s-s!”
“I like the other smile better.”
The ice in his eyes melted, and the dimple reappeared. “I’d be worried if you didn’t.”
Relief chased the nerves away. Her Luke was back. She gently tugged his shirt out of his waistband and finished unbuttoning it. “Now I get to unwrap you,” she said as she bared his spectacular musculature. “Ouch.” She traced around the splotches of blue, green, and purple on his side, making sure her touch was gossamer light. “That looks even more painful than yesterday.”
“I’ve had worse.” He paused. “It just takes longer to heal these days.”
She glanced up to see a shadow darken his eyes, and remembered that even Dennis said Luke’s age might be catching up with him. To her, he seemed as unalterable as granite, but maybe he was admitting he wasn’t.
He brought one of his hands around to cup her cheek. “You don’t have to look so worried, sugar. I’ll be back on the field next week.”
She feathered her fingers over the vivid bruises again. “I’m just wondering if you should go back so quickly.”
“Christ, you sound like Stan.” He lifted his hand to scrape his fingers through his hair.
“I’d like to meet him.” She didn’t want to dwell on his troubles, so she changed the subject by lightly trailing her fingers along the lines and curves of the muscles that rippled under the skin of his abdomen. He sat with his arms outstretched on the sofa, his head tilted back against the cushions, eyes closed.
She watched his reactions as her hands moved over him, noticing when he sucked in a quick breath or contracted a muscle. There were more scars than she had noticed the night before, some small nicks and some jagged slashes. She ran her fingers over those as well, ever so gently, but he showed no discomfort.
Did he keep playing because he had a high tolerance for pain, or did he simply override it by sheer force of will?
She rose onto her knees to trace her fingertips up the powerful column of his neck and along his clean, sharp jawline, burying her fingers in his hair, combing through it so the different shades of blond glinted in the soft lighting. “It isn’t fair for a man to have such beautiful hair.”
She leaned in to kiss that firm, male mouth, her breasts brushing against his bared chest. A long groan tore out of his throat, and his hands were on her waist, lifting her up and sideways so that she sprawled on the couch. Luke shucked off his shirt and came down on top of her, his knees pushing her legs apart so his erection was pressed against the apex of her thighs.
“You rested?” he asked, letting just enough of his weight land on her so her breasts were crushed against his warm skin. That and the pressure of his cock sent erotic energy coursing through her body.
“You were the one who insisted on a rest period.”
His mouth curled into a wicked smile. “I think you just challenged me.”
She thought of his warrior face and shuddered. “I would never do that.”
He levered himself off her and stripped her black lace panties down over her shoes, tossing them behind the couch. He pulled a condom from his trouser pocket, put the foil packet between his teeth, and unbuckled his belt.
He got the condom on so fast that Miranda simply lay there, mesmerized by the speed and economy of his motions.
Then he was over her again, the head of his cock nudging at the opening between her legs. Very slowly he pushed inside her, so she felt herself stretching around him. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the sensation of being filled in slow motion. It was exquisite torture as she waited for him to seat himself fully inside her, her body craving more, yet wanting to savor what he was doing to it. At last he stopped. She could feel the wool of his trousers brush the tops of her thighs.
She tried to pulse her hips, but his weight held her immobile against the sofa cushions.
“Not yet,” he said, picking up on the tiny amount of movement she managed. He interlaced his fingers with hers, pinning her hands down beside her shoulders while he braced himself on his forearms. He rubbed his chest over the hard tips of her breasts, sending bolts of arousal streaking down to where he was anchored inside her. All she could do was tighten her internal muscles in response.
He exhaled sharply. “You play dirty, lady.”
“Focus of desire.” She squeezed her inner muscles again.
The sound he made was somewhere between a moan and laugh. “Using my own words against me.”
The light banter contrasted in a highly erotic way with having Luke’s cock buried within her.
“I can’t use anything else against you, can I?” She pushed against his immobilizing grip on her hands.
“You’re using your whole body against me.” Nuzzling the side of her neck, he blew gently on each spot he kissed. She shivered at the hot-cold seesaw. He whispered by her ear, “I can feel every inch of your skin on mine.”
“And I can feel every inch of you in me,” she murmured back.
He gave her a little pulse of movement, as though he couldn’t stop himself. It was enough to send flares of sensation through her. “Yes-s-s!”
