Fair Game: A Football Romance (63 page)

Chapter Eight

King

I thought she would choose something classical. I never imagined her a Sinatra fan. With any other woman, this song choice would be a complete turn-off. Women who suggest foolish things like love and throw themselves at me come off as weak, but not Holland. Quite the opposite. In fact, using a song to suggest love is a strong, bold move—as well as unnecessary. I felt something strong for her the second I saw her dancing alone on this very dance floor. Romero men are known for falling in love at first sight. It used to sound ridiculous to me, but now? Maybe not.

“See? Old soul,” I say, putting her at ease. I saw her hesitate before choosing this song, but she went for it, and I love that about her.

“I guess so,” she says shyly, reaching for her champagne.

“Sinatra fan?” I say, leaning forward to slide my hand under the table and over her thigh. Her smooth skin makes me so hard, it’s all I can do not to take her right here on the table, or bent over it, or up against the wall, in my lap . . . fuck, how did this happen? King Tomas Romero is pussy whipped. She doesn’t know it yet, but she could have anything in the world that she wants right now. Anything—it’s hers, no questions, no qualms—including my heart. Never in my life have I wanted to give a woman the world on a silver platter, but with Holland the urge is staggering.

She places her fork on the edge of her plate and turns in her chair, making it easier for my hand to slip between her legs. The way she moves is so innocent. I know she didn’t do it on purpose, but it’s arousing all the same. Our eyes lock as Sinatra sings
Now is the time for it, while we are young. Let’s fall in love.
Her crystal clear grey eyes blink slowly as I move closer to cover her mouth with mine. A tiny moan vibrates in her throat when my tongue slides across her full bottom lip. I want so much to bite it, but I deny myself the satisfaction to spare her the mark it would leave. My fingers brush against her damp panties while my other hand gathers her hair, gently tugging it to expose her elegant neck. Kissing trails down her silky skin to her nape and back up, I nip at her earlobe.

“Holland.” I whisper in her ear.

“Mmm?”

“I’m taking you upstairs,” I say, licking her ear with the tip of my tongue. She’s quiet while I surround her with temptation. She’s not agreeing with words, but her body is screaming yes. Her heart is pounding. She’s melting in my hands, but I feel the need for her to approve, so I stop my advances and wait.

“King?” she whispers. She’s wondering why I’ve stopped.

“Tell me what you want, Holland. I need to hear you ask for it.” She fidgets in her seat, and I slide a finger inside her panties to tempt her further. She’s soaked for me. Fuck, I need her.

“I want you to take me upstairs.” She whimpers, and that’s all I need. I scoop her up and kiss her deeply as I stride toward the elevator. Just as I press the
up
button, her phone begins to ring in her purse on the table. Pulling away from the wet heat of her lips, I look toward the annoying interruption and back into Holland’s eyes. She’s struggling, and I can’t bear the thought of her refusing me. I walk back to the table in a few hard strides, snatch her purse, and make it back to the elevator just as the doors open.

I punch the button to the VIP club and return to kissing the sugar-sweetened lips of this unexpected bright light in my life.

“King.” She breathes my name through our kisses.

“Mmmhmm?” I murmur, desperately trying to keep her focus on what’s about to happen between us and not the phone that continues to squawk in her purse. I have been thinking about Holland spread out naked in my bed all day, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a phone squash that fantasy. If I had my way, I’d drop the damn thing over the edge of the VIP club’s railing and onto the dance floor and let it explode into a million pieces.

Holland’s hands that have been threaded in my hair move to my chest, where she gently pushes me away. Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I wait for her to pop the bubble of passion surrounding us.

“King . . . open your eyes.” She pants as the elevator doors slide open. I oblige, but with only one eye.

“Don’t say it.”

“I’m sorry. I have to get that, or at least see who it is.”

With a sigh, I carry her to the apartment door as she rummages around in her purse in search of that annoying phone.

When we’re inside, I make my way directly to my bedroom. I’m determined to have her, and when I’m determined, I get what I want. I walk through the dark apartment, down the hall, and into my bedroom, not even turning on a light. Her damn phone is light enough. I want to look and see who’s fucking up my time with her, but I don’t. Instead, I lay her down as she says hello, and I ignore the fact that she’s talking to someone other than me. Her purse is dropped onto the floor next to us, and I work on the tiny buckles of her shoes. When her perfect feet are bare, I kiss the top of each one, causing her breath to hitch. From this end, it sounds like it’s her friend, Savannah. I’m going to have to set that woman straight. No calls when I have Holland. Never losing contact with her body, I reach out and turn on the dim light next to the bed. Her silhouette is equally as sexy as if every light in the room were on. I’m going to relentlessly kiss, lick and nip at every inch of her skin until she hangs up that fucking phone, and then I’m going to do it again.

Chapter Nine

Holland

“Um, yeah. I can’t talk right now.” Savannah has the absolute worst timing ever. As much as I despised doing it, I had to answer the call though. It could have been one of my parents, but it’s just Savannah, thank God.

“Sorry, but we need to solid up a plan. My mama and her new
man friend
are going to the Jacksons’ for drinks, and when they do that, they don’t come home till like five in the morning.”

“Okay, and what does that have to do with me?” I ask, watching King remove my shoes and kiss his way up my calf. Currently, he is spreading my legs apart for better access to the tender, sensitive area behind my knees. I can hardly speak to Savannah through the haze of sex surrounding us.

“It means you can stay overnight with your new
boyfriend
if you want to. Just call your mama and tell her you’re worn out from swimming and you just want to stay with me tonight. I’ll make a lump in my bed. My mama will be too drunk to care what’s going on. She’ll never know you weren’t here.”

“What about . . .” I’m trying to line this all up in my head so that it makes sense, but King is removing my clothes and kissing me in places I’ve never been kissed before.

“What about what, Holland? What are you doing? Sounds like you just ran up a flight of stairs.”

“Why are you doing this?” The question is meant for Savannah but could be for King just as well, and consequently, they both pause—her talking, him kissing. Why does she want me to spend the night with him, and why is he torturing me while I’m on the phone with her?

I nod at King that the question wasn’t meant for him, and he returns to my leg while Savannah begins talking again.

“What do ya mean? You want to stay with him, don’t you?”

King has climbed onto the bed behind me, where I’m sitting on the edge. His lean, muscled legs slide around me from behind, and I feel his hard length pressing into my backside.

“I just thought . . . I mean . . . I figured you wouldn’t want me to . . .” God, I can’t concentrate with his hands on my breasts and his warm breath in my hair.

“Okay, yeah, sure. We can work out the details tomorrow.” The words rush out, and King has had enough of being ignored. I hear Savannah huff in frustration at my lack of clear communication before King takes the phone and presses
end
, tossing it into my purse on the floor.

“Everything alright?” he asks, slowly sliding the material of my jumper off of my shoulders as he kisses every area that it had been covering.

“Ah, yeah, fine. Just Savannah . . .” My words become more and more nonsensical as he begins to bite at the skin around my shoulders and the back of my neck. I whimper and feel the heat between my legs intensify a million fold.

“Do I have all of your attention now, Holland?”

“Yes.”

“All of it? Are you sure?” he asks, pushing the gauzy tangerine material down to my waist and exposing my breasts. His hands explore my belly and my waist and finally glide over my taut nipples, occasionally pausing to roll one between his fingers and then the next. My nails dig into his thighs that are wrapped around my legs, and I drop my head back onto his shoulder.

“Yes . . . all of it.”

“Good, now lift up.” I arch my back and lift as his fingers work the rest of my clothes over my hips until they slide onto the floor at my feet. I am completely bare, and I’m glad we aren’t facing each other, because this time, without the alcohol coursing through my veins, I am nervous. I wasn’t myself last night, and this afternoon we were still dressed for the most part, but this is the first time I’ve been completely naked and sober with King. The light is so soft that only our shadows are visible, but that doesn’t do much for my nerves.

King’s hands cover mine, loosening my clawing fingers.

“Relax. You’re safe with me.” He breathes into my ear. Shivers run the length of my body, and I try like hell to do as he asks.

His hands are still covering mine as he guides them away from his thighs and onto my own. Our hands glide together along the outside of my legs until we arrive at my knees, where we spread them open wide. King’s body molds with mine, transferring his intense energy to me with his touch, his kisses . . . his breath. He presses his soft facial scruff between my shoulder blades, and a moan vibrates from his chest, triggering something deep within me. My inhibitions about being exposed dissipate when I realize that he is in control, and I am indeed safe in his arms.

“Touch yourself,” he murmurs, leaning our bodies back so I’m against his chest and his chin is on my shoulder. I hesitate, but he’s right there, moving my hands to my core, pressing his finger against mine so we’re circling my clit together.

“You’re so responsive, Holland. Your body hears mine, as if it’s been waiting for me to bring you alive. Look at me,” he says softly, and I turn my face to his so he can take my breath away with a kiss that sends jolts of electricity to where our hands move in a figure eight along my clit and down to the entrance of my apex, where I’m pulsing on the edge of ecstasy. King senses that I’m teetering.

“Uh uh . . . not yet,” he says, licking a toe-curling trail down my neck to my shoulder while moving our hands to smooth over my flat belly and along my waist until we are both cupping my sensitive breasts.

“Do you trust me, Holland?” His voice is low and serious. I innately have no fear of this man. Somehow, I trust him unconditionally.

“I do,” I answer with conviction.

“Close your eyes,” he commands quietly.

When my eyes are closed, he moves away from me and off of the bed. I instantly miss his heat when the cool air of the room swirls around me in his wake. I hear him padding around the room on the thick carpet and wonder what he’s up to, and I wish he would hurry up and come back to me.

“Keep them closed,” he says, standing directly in front of me. I hear the zipper on his jeans lower and the ruffling of his shirt being pulled over his head.

“You’re fucking beautiful, Holland. I wish I had a camera. I’d take a million photographs of you.”

His comment makes me stiffen on the edge of the bed. I’m not sure how I feel about being photographed nude.

“Don’t worry, I don’t have my camera tonight. But I’d like to another time if you’d let me.”

Instantly I relax, and he moves between my legs, his thick cock brushing against me while he covers my eyes with what feels like a thin scarf.

“Can you see?” he asks, and I open my eyes, only to see the black material covering my eyes.

“No.”

“You’re going to bite through your lip if you don’t relax, sweetheart,” he says, pulling my bottom lip from between my teeth. “Scoot back toward the head of the bed.”

I move in that direction, and when I’ve got my back against the padded headboard, I feel the covers slide out from under me and land on the floor with a whoosh. I wait with my knees together, palms down on the mattress, panting with anticipation.

“Turn over and lay down, baby,” he says, and I cock my head in question. “Believe me, you won’t regret it. Lay down,” he says, and I do as he asks.

On my belly, I wait for further instruction, as that seems to be how this game is played.

“Arms up,” he says, and I finally feel him crawling across the enormous bed toward me. I lift my arms up as he straddles me, and again I feel the weight of his thick cock against my ass. I close my eyes, even though I can’t see anyway, and take a deep breath and hold it.

Another scarf circles my wrists, tying them together.

“Keep them right there, do you understand?” His lips brush against my ear, and I nod while still holding my breath. I feel him reach to my right to retrieve something. Suddenly, sultry music fills the room and I recognize the silky smooth voice of The Weekend. Does he know I love his music, or is this just another thing we have in common? It’s not classical, but this music is the key to my relaxation. I release my breath and allow myself to melt into the mattress under the light pressure of King’s body.

“Good girl. I thought that might help,” he says as he stretches again to my right. I hear him setting what I imagine is another sound system remote down on the table, but he also picks something up, and after a click, I can see a faint bit of light behind my mask.

“I need to look at you. I’ve turned the lights up a little,” he informs me. His hands slide up my back. As his body hovers over mine, he gathers my hair together in a messy knot and wraps a rubber band around it, securing it on top of my head.

“Are you comfortable? You’re not tied too tightly, are you?”

I shake my head no, and again I feel him lean away from me.

“Holland, you don’t have any food allergies, do you?”

Food allergies? Why the hell is he asking me about food allergies when he’s got me naked and tied up in his bed?

“Um . . . no. Why?”

“Good.”

Before I can wonder any more on the subject, I feel something hot drizzling across my back. Initially I tense, but as he continues to pour the thick liquid in patterns over my skin, I begin to enjoy the sensation.

Rising over me, he continues lacing my skin with the mystery liquid until I recognize the scent. It brings visions of tea and toast to mind. It’s honey . . . he’s pouring hot honey in tiny ribbons all over my body, from my neck to the soles of my feet.

“Honey?”

“Mmm yes. I wish you could see yourself.”

“Tell me.”

He stops and sniffs an approval.

“You’re going to be good at this, aren’t you?”

I don’t know what he’s talking about, so I quietly wait for him to tell me what he sees.

“Well . . . your bronze skin is flawless in the soft light. The curve of your back that blends into your perfect, round ass has a pool of sticky honey right in the center, between the most adorable dimples. A trail of redness appears under every thread of honey along your skin, but it disappears, leaving a glimmering stream of sweetness in its wake.

His narrating halts as I feel him move to put the honey down. I have no idea what’s next. I lay still and wait until something else begins to dribble onto my oversensitive skin. This time it’s cold, and I suck in a breath and tense as it tickles its way across my backside. I don’t recognize this scent. It doesn’t smell like much of anything, so I ask.

“It’s cold,” I say, feeling goosebumps forming on my skin.

“Cream.”

“You’re making me into a cup of tea?” I say, and he chuckles.

“I hadn’t thought of that, but your skin is the color of tea, and with honey and cream, you’re my perfect cup of tea,” he says, lowering himself down to straddle me again. He swirls the mixture with the tips of his fingers, down to the pool in the small of my back between my dimples. He scoots back just enough so that he can reach the area that he has just erotically described. His tongue lavishes my burning flesh, exploring, searching, seeking to find every secret my body holds. He forges along the crack of my ass, nipping and licking until my heart threatens to beat right out of my chest. I can’t even hear the music anymore. The
whoosh
of my pulse fills my ears, and the sensation of King’s mouth traveling over forbidden areas of my body consumes me. I whimper and moan as his lips travel up my spine and to the back of my neck.

“So sweet,” he murmurs, and I smile. His chest is stuck to my back, and I feel the pull of the honey trying to keep us together when he rises to massage my shoulders. We have to be a sight, and for a second I almost wish he had taken some pictures.

King trails his finger through the honey again and slides his hand around my neck and against my face, spreading the sticky liquid along my bottom lip with his thumb before slipping it between my lips. I suck gently and swirl my tongue over the tip of his thumb, tasting the delicious combination of milk, honey and King.

I’m flipped onto my back within seconds, with my tied hands pushed over my head. I gasp as his sweet mouth covers mine, and I open my legs to thrust my hips against him, begging him to enter. With my hands bound, I use my legs and feet to urge him closer. Locking my ankles, I make it clear that I will not wait anymore.

He only has to adjust his position a fraction, and he is filling me with a forceful thrust.

“Oh, God,” I cry out, and he is immediately stone still. The pain is sharp, but the relief is overwhelming. I’m not sure what I’m experiencing more.

“Holland? Are you okay?” he asks, his voice heavy with concern.

“Yes! God, yes, don’t stop.” I pant, and immediately he’s moving urgently, regaining the passion of the interrupted moment.

I meet him thrust for thrust, using the headboard behind my bound hands as leverage while he drives into my body with the power of a man possessed.

“Hey . . .” He slows his pace and gently kisses my forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“What the hell for?” I ask, completely dumbfounded.

“Caveman . . .” he says sheepishly, and I raise my bound hands over his head and around his neck to pull him into a deep kiss. I feel him swell inside of me, and he breaks away.

“I can’t control myself with you. I want to seduce you all fucking night, but . . .”