Best of Three (Counting on Love) (14 page)

Nate didn’t do wound up. He yelled on the football field. He’d get up into a fellow player’s face if something went wrong. She could imagine him chewing someone’s ass in the operating room if needed. But “wound up” was not a term she’d associate with Nate. He was in control, even when he was pissed off.

“Faster.” His voice was soft but still commanding. “You need more than that.”

She was stroking in and out, up and over her clit, then inside again, but the pace was leisurely, a warm up, priming for things to come. Or so she thought.

“I thought that—”

“I’m positive that you know how to get yourself off,” he said over the top of her. “Now do it.” The last three words were delivered, softly and firmly. And caused her stomach to flutter.

Well, yes, she did as a matter of fact, know how to do that, thank you very much. And if he thought he was going to win this game of chicken, he was sadly mistaken.

She sped her rhythm slightly, slicking over her clit, shivering as the spot grew more sensitive. Her breathing sped up too. If she wasn’t careful, she’d go right over the edge like this.

“Nate—”

“More.”

He was in control. He’d warned her she wouldn’t like it. She couldn’t hesitate already.

She increased her pace, slid in further, pressed harder.

She had every bit of Nate’s attention though and that was almost enough to give her an orgasm right there.

Is that what he wanted to see? That he could drive her all the way without even a touch?

Talk about cocky.

Well, she had plenty of her own cocky. She slid her finger all the way in, then added a second. She heard Nate pull in a breath through his nose. She gave him a slow smile and stroked deep in and out, again and again with both fingers, increasing the speed each time.

She was getting close. If she added stimulation to her clit she’d be coming in seconds. And her body was taking over. She was going to go all the way, whether she wanted to play with Nate or not, if she kept this up.

Her body was all for it.

Tipping her head back against the truck door, she let her eyes slide shut. She brought her unoccupied hand to her breast, playing with her nipple in the way that she’d used often enough when she was alone.

Nate’s eyes were still on her. She could feel his gaze even with her eyes shut and the heat ratcheted up, her pelvis felt full and her muscles were beginning to tighten in that delicious pre-orgasm state.

“Get the vibrator.”

His deep words worked on her nerve endings and she had to suck in a deep breath. Without opening her eyes, she felt around on the seat for the finger vibrator. She clasped it and started to withdraw her fingers.

“No.”

She paused.

“Fingers deep. Eyes on me.”

Holy orgasm, Batman.
Emma’s eyes locked on Nate’s, boldly doing exactly as he said. It wasn’t like she was suffering here. She pressed the vibrator to her clit, stroking her fingers deep, watching his nostrils flare and his jaw tighten. The sensations began to swirl out of control, her deep muscles clenching, her heart racing, the heat sweeping over her.

“Emma.”

It was one gruff word. She wasn’t even sure he meant to say it. But that was what pushed her over the precipice.

Her orgasm hit, stronger than any she’d produced on her own in the past. Her eyes slammed shut as everything in her coiled tight, then let go at once and she held her breath, letting the waves of pleasure crash over her and through her.

She stayed like that, fingers still but remaining deep, vibrator on, letting the tremors slowly quiet and fade.

When they were gone and all that was left were tingles in her scalp, pelvis and the bottom of her feet, she finally breathed, tossed the vibrator onto the seat and slumped back against the door.

There was no sound in the truck. No shifting on the other seat, no hard breathing, no begging her to move onto his lap and finish this right.

Reality hit and she drew her legs together, both feet on the seat.

She’d masturbated herself to an orgasm in front of Nate Sullivan.

Um, wow. There really wasn’t any other term that fit.

Finally, she opened one eye.

He was still reclining comfortably, watching her.

Emma blew out a breath and sat up, shifting to pull her clothes back into place and slip her tank top back on.

Now what? His house? Her house? The silence was going to drive her crazy. “Well?” she asked.

“Very nice.”

She blinked at him. Very nice? Very
nice
? “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You showed an impressive ability to follow my instructions,” he said smoothly. “I’m pleased.”

She peered at him closely. Was he at least fighting a smile? Was he messing around with her? She couldn’t tell. “Oh, great,” she said sarcastically. “So glad you’re
pleased
.”

He turned and put the truck into gear and pulled out of the parking lot without another word.

During the drive Emma replayed the entire thing, trying to figure out when exactly she’d decided that she didn’t care if Nate totally took over or not. Because he most definitely had taken over.

About the time he’d told her to pull her skirt up, she figured.

She’d been trying to overwhelm him with lust and he’d totally turned the tables on her.

Score one for Nate.

But this wasn’t over.

And heck, she was walking away with a nice consolation orgasm even if he’d won that match.

The truck rolled to a stop and Emma became aware that they were outside of Dena’s house. The big truck rode so smoothly she’d almost forgotten they were on the move.

“Be sure to keep your phone on.”

She looked at him. He had to be joking. “That’s it? What’s happening?”

“I’m dropping you off. I saw Michael’s car pull away from the house. I assume that means Shannon is safe and sound inside.”

“But what about…us? The seven days?”

“I’m in charge,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, yeah. I know you get off on that. But, Nate, I have some other ways that you can feel good.” She braced a hand on the seat between them and leaned closer. “I promise that you’ll feel like the king of the world once you’re in my bed.”

That got a half smile from him. “Keep your phone on.”

He was going for a booty call. She sighed. It was a pain in the ass to think about going home and then getting called out again, but whatever. He needed to be ordering her around. Fine. She could put up with it if it meant she’d eventually get him naked too.

She grabbed the vibrator and started to put it into her purse.

“Give that to me.”

She looked at him. “You want it?”

“You won’t be needing it. No orgasms, no vibrators unless I’m there, remember?”

A shiver of desire went through her. “You don’t think that little thing is the only toy I have do you?”

He held out his hand. “It doesn’t matter. You won’t be playing with any other toys until I tell you to.”

She handed it to him. “Be sure you bring that with you the next time we see each other.” She grabbed her purse and her cane, then opened the door. “You’re kind of high maintenance, you know that?”

She was out of the truck and about to slam the door shut when he said, “You have no idea.”

Nate kicked ass at football practice on Sunday.

“Nice hit, Sullivan.” Cody Madsen slapped Nate on the back as he strode past.

Ryan Kaye was still getting up from the ground.

Nate appreciated being a football player every day he got to be one. He appreciated being a defensive back every time he laid out a receiver. And today, there were three very sore receivers on the field. Ryan Kaye being one of them.

“Damn, man,” Ryan said, rubbing his ribs. “What I’d do to piss you off?”

“You caught the football.”

“You’re not putting extra muscle into this today?” Ryan asked. “’Cause I’ve been hit by you before and it didn’t feel this bad.”

“Keep talkin’, Kaye,” Nate told him. “And keep going for the ball. You haven’t felt nothin’ yet.”

Ryan laughed and jogged up the field. Nate gritted his teeth as he headed back for the line of scrimmage. He wasn’t exactly pissed off. He was on edge though and trying to work off some major pent-up emotion. He was frustrated, tense, mad at himself—yes, mostly that last one. Definitely.

And there was no getting away from the reason why.

Because her fucking brother was their fucking quarterback who was fucking calling out the plays. Nate couldn’t avoid him. Or the fact that every time he heard someone yell Dixon’s name Nate thought of Emma.

Of course, he’d been thinking about Emma nonstop since the night in his truck anyway.

How could he not?

He’d seen her naked. He’d watched her touch herself. He’d watched her orgasm. And most of all, she’d done it all because he’d told her to.

Damn, that was what really got him going…and had kept him up all night.

She’d hung in there, had met him challenge for challenge. He’d kept pushing, and instead of her backing off, he’d been treated to the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen.

Then, in spite of him being crystal clear about the fact that
he
was in charge and would be the one to call her—something he’d decided he would definitely not do ever—she’d texted him. Saturday afternoon. And it wasn’t
hi, how’s it going?
No, she sent him questions like,
Where’s the strangest place you’ve ever gotten a blow job?
and
If I was going to cover my body in flavored syrup, do you prefer strawberry or butterscotch?

He’d gotten to the point that hearing the chime of his text message made him hard.

He should have known she wouldn’t sit around and wait. He should have known she’d make this difficult.

And he should have known he’d love it.

Like he loved the text photo she sent him of her in a long, silky hot pink nightgown. And in a hot pink teddy. And in a hot pink bra and panty set. And then without the hot pink bra and panty set…or anything else.

He’d replayed the text message strip tease a dozen times.

But he’d still resisted texting her back. Or calling. Or going to her condo, throwing her on the nearest firm surface and doing all the dirty things he’d been dreaming about since Friday night.

“Run it again!” Coach bellowed from sideline.

Nate jerked out of his thoughts of Emma.

“Let’s go!” Conner called. “Huddle up.”

The defense lined up as the offense gathered to decide the play.

Nate took his place. It wouldn’t matter what the play was. He was going to take someone’s head off.

“Sullivan, you’re on Kaye again. You’re busting his ass today,” Brian Axel, one of the linemen, said. “And that amuses me.”

Ryan flipped Brian off.

Well, he was glad Brian was having a good time. “Got him,” Nate said.

“It’s a good day to be on our side of the ball, boys,” Conner called as he took his position behind the center. Then he gave them all his best shit-eating grin.

And that led to the most pathetic thing Nate had ever thought in his life—Conner’s smile reminded Nate of Emma’s.

He gave a little growl.

Maybe taking Conner out of practice would help. Then Nate wouldn’t have to see that fucking grin. Conner was a friend and a teammate. Typically they were on the same side and Nate didn’t mind Conner razzing the guys on the other side. But today was a scrimmage and the defense was matched against the offense. Conner was the opponent today and his swagger made Nate grind his teeth.

Because it also reminded him of Emma. That woman had boldness to spare.

Which brought firmly to mind the way she’d shown it off Friday night.

The image of Emma laying back, thighs open, breasts bare, her fingers between her legs would be burned on his memory until the day he died.

He definitely wanted to take Conner out of practice. Nothing permanent. Conner was the best QB in the league, after all. But Nate wouldn’t mind knocking the wind out of him.

He eyed Shane Kelley, the offensive lineman who would try to keep Nate away from Conner. Shane was a big guy, there was no denying that. He outweighed Nate by fifty pounds and had two inches on him.

Of course, Nate was faster. And there was the massive amount of pent-up sexual frustration he had going on. If he channeled that, he could get to Conner.

Nate watched Conner as the rest of the offense lined up. Even if Nate didn’t get through to him, it would hurt like hell trying. He would at least be beat up, sore and tired after practice.

He’d had a hell of a long night the last couple of nights. He needed to sleep tonight. He had surgery in the morning and if he spent another night like last night, he’d be worthless.

With the offense set, Conner called the play and the sound of twenty-two grown men groaning and grunting, helmets smacking and feet pounding filled the air.