Hooked Up the Game Plan (3 page)

She nodded vigorously. “I’d like more. A lot more.” Grabbing his arms she leaned backward and changed the angle so his cock touched her higher inside.

Drake pressed harder and picked up the pace. She could see etched on his face how hard he fought to keep himself under wraps. His control started to crack, and Callie wanted it to crack. She needed him hot, hard, and heavy, all man. Just like she’d dreamed it a thousand times on those cold winter nights and hot summer days. If she was still dreaming, she’d rather die in her sleep and never wake.

Callie dug her heels into his ass, which snapped his last thin thread of control. He slammed into her, each thrust harder than the previous, so hard each in-stroke lifted her off the desk. The sounds of their harsh breathing and bodies slapping together filled the small room. The smell of sex and sweat reached her nostrils. Muscles clenched in Drake’s strong thighs as he pistoned in and out of her. Then he stopped just like that and withdrew.

She opened her mouth to protest. Before she uttered one word, he flipped her onto her stomach and entered her from behind with one hard, rough stroke. Her body slid across the desk, sending papers flying. She grabbed the edge as Drake powered into her from behind over and over again. So deep she swore he touched her womb. Reaching around, he grasped both
of her
nipples, pinching and twisting them in a manner which would have been painful with any other man. But the intense pleasure of his big cock ramming into her and the feel of his fingers on her nipples drove her into a frenzy of out-of-control lust.

The tremors built in her again. Even as she felt his own tremors, felt his cock jerk several times, while his fingers latched onto her nipples and squeezed. She panted as a triumphant scream tore from her lungs and bounced off the walls. Callie came in a wild rush of rioting emotions with pleasure so intense she swore she’d die, but she didn’t care.

But she didn’t die. At least, she didn’t think so.

A second later Drake came. His own hoarse shouts filled the room and most likely could be heard above the music in the bar. Callie didn’t care. Not one damn bit. Boneless and spent, she sprawled across the desk. Drake lay on top of her, his heavy body covering hers. Sweat drenched them and trickled down her face.

Finally Drake stood. He turned her around. Cupping her chin in his hand, he kissed her softly, gently. His satisfied half smile said it all. “That was fucking incredible.”

“Yeah, it was.” She watched as he wrapped his spent condom in tissue and threw it in the garbage can.

He gathered his clothes, dressed, and then headed to the door. Hand on the door knob, he hesitated. Turning back, he looked at her. “Thank you.”

“Thank
you
.”

Then he was gone. Gone from her life forever, but not from her memories. Memories of him would fuel a million lonely nights. She’d never forget her one-night stand with a football star and legendary lover.

With a laugh, she stared at the door. Her body tingled, still re
play
ing the sensations of Drake’s body against hers. Callie smiled and touched her cheek where his rough stubble had left a whisker burn.

She could tick a one-night stand off her bucket list. Perhaps, next time she would stalk a hockey player. She’d heard plenty about their stiff sticks.

**
*
*

About Jami Davenport

Jami
 
Davenport has been writing since she was old enough to know the alphabet. An advocate of happy endings,
 
Jami
 
writes sexy romantic comedy, sports hero romances, and equestrian fiction.
 
Jami
 
lives on a small farm near Puget Sound with her husband, a former Green Beret turned plumber, a Newfoundland cross with a tennis ball fetish, a prince disguised as an orange tabby cat, and an opinionated Hanoverian mare.

She works in IT for her day job and is a former high school business teacher. In her spare time,
 
Jami
 
rides and shows her dressage horse and grows roses. An avid boater,
 
Jami
 
has spent countless hours in the San Juan Islands, the setting for her first two books. In her opinion, it is the most beautiful place on earth.

Website:
 
http://www.jamidavenport.com/

Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/jamidavenport

Twitter:
https://twitter.com/#!/jamidavenport
             

**
*
*

Hole in One

by Sandra Sookoo

You are cordially invited!

What—Hunter Anderson’s Annual Strip Tease Golf Party

When—October 5
th
, 8:00 p.m.

Where—Dead Man’s Hollow Golf Course at the Anderson compound

You guys know the rules, but just in case you’ve suffered memory loss since last year, here they are:

If you get a hole in one, everyone in the party has to remove one item of clothing.

If you hit your ball into a water hazard, you have to take a punishment from your team mate

If you fail to complete the hole within four strokes, you lose a piece of clothing.

If you bump your teammate's ball, you have to share a kiss with your teammate—tongue required.

If your ball hops the course or you lose the ball while trying to complete a hole, your teammate chooses your punishment.

Two infractions in two consecutive holes wins you a ten minute penalty in the shed of shame—punishment chosen from a random member of the party. Hookups are acceptable and pictures are encouraged.

Whoever ends up naked after nine holes has to buy the entire party dinner.

Whoever is still dressed at the end of nine holes buys a round of drinks for the entire party.

There you have it, folks. Guys, make sure you wear new boxer shorts or jockeys—no tightie whities at this bash—and ladies, bring the sexy lingerie. Grannie panties not accepted.

****

“Geez, Trina, I’m here, all right? I’ll meet you in two minutes.” Nisha Patel hung up on her best friend then slid her phone into a front pocket of her denim skirt. She and Trina had been friends since the day in sixth grade when they’d both be
en
traumatized by wearing the school-issued green-and-white gym suits for P.E.

She put on a baseball cap and pulled her thick, black hair through the plastic adjustor. Not only would it keep the evening sun out of her eyes, but
in case she had to start stripping right away,
it would give her bonus time. She checked her make-up in the rearview mirror then reapplied a deep, rose gloss to her full lips. After tossing the tube into the glove box, she lightly covered her eyelids with a wash of gold shadow. Matching gold flecks swam in the brown depths of her eyes.
She’d always considered her eyes her best feature.
Thank goodness for her Indian genes. Depositing the shadow with the gloss, she closed the glove compartment. With her stomach in knots, she pushed open the car door, exited, then slammed
the door
behind her.

Feeling pretty was one thing. Knowing, deep down
,
she did it in case Reid showed up was another. Yeah, they’d ended their relationship
,
but she’d never managed to forget him. In the cobwebby recesses of her mind, she thought about him and played the “what if” game. What if she’d made a mistake dumping him? What if they hadn’t been ready for a relationship back then but might be now? What if she never got over him completely?

The parking lot of
Dead Man’s Hollow
miniature golf course held a handful of cars, and she recognized them all. For five years she and her closest friends from college had gathered here for one n
ight in early October for strip
tease miniature golf.
Hunter
Anderson
might
only
be an assistant coach to the city’s professional football team
,
but he’d also made millions right out of college by selling a software program to a huge investor. That’s how he’d been able to buy
the property and build the
course
, giving privacy to the decadent event.

Sometimes
she was lucky and got to keep mos
t of her clothing on, sometimes
she wasn’t, but never had she been forced to ditch her bra or panties, which was great since she always stressed about playing
the
game a month before the event
, anticipating
Reid show
ing
up
.

Too bad he hadn’t come in three years, but again, there was always the what
-
if.

No matter that the event was by invitation only, she hated showing up every year, for two reasons: Reid might be there, which would send her careening off into emotional no-man’s land
,
and she enjoyed the thrill of doing something naughty, even if it was
just
once a year. Of course, it was also her way of secretly sticking it to her parents. She didn’t like being the “good girl” all the time, and this outing was the perfect antidote.

The poster parents of helicopter parenting, her mom and dad maintained any time spent outside of studying for another degree was wasted.
You’re
not using
your
intelligence to its full potential.

Nisha shook her head. Her parents’ aspirations for her life weren’t her problem. A grin curved her lips. They’d almost had heart attacks when she
’d
announced her job in a biology lab was too stressful and she’d decided to follow her dream of owning and operating a vintage clothing store.

Nisha, no one cares about used clothes. The way to riches in this country is big corporations and innovative ideas. Afterward, you marry someone with multiple degrees and his own company.
Her father’s words rang in her ears while she crossed the parking lot. That incident had been two and a half years ago.

A snort of laughter escaped. Her dad just couldn’t deal with the fact that pulling in a six-figure salary wasn’t her dream. Germs under a microscope were poor substitute for conversation and loving
what she
did.

As she rounded the sidewalk that led to the attendant stand, her heart sank. The gang was already there.
Crap
. She’d hoped to arrive sooner and get the jump on the others, watch them as they came instead. Plus, she’d wanted to steel herself in case Reid came this year. He’d always been a wild card. There was always a chance he’d attend. Trina waved, and Nisha waved back.

She glanced around the gathering and the knots in her stomach tightened then dissolved into flutters.
He’s here.
She hadn’t seen Reid Bowman in three years. And she would never get enough of him. The annoying man had stolen her heart back then even though he’d been a jerk, and she hadn’t recovered, but until she saw him now, she hadn’t known exactly how strong her desire to be with him again was.

Not caring that he’d know she was deliberately ogling him, she let her ga
ze rove over his body. From
broad shoulders fill
ing
out every inch of a black polo shirt, past
a
slim waist to
narrow hips and
lean thighs encased in khaki cargo shorts, he was still the object of her fantasies. How many times had she wielded her vibrator and pretended it was Reid’s fingers on her clit or his cock pounding her cunt? As her breath hitched and her heartbeat tore through her body, she raised her eyes to his.

Reid’s wide grin sent heat hurtling into her bloodstream. Her nipples responded, poking against her coral
T
-shirt. For one terrifying, exhilarating second his gaze dropped to her chest before he refocused on her face.

Nisha’s pussy clenched. Moisture dampened her panties—brand new
and matching
an equally new
,
lime-green satin bra. She’d taken Hunter’s warning to heart. No way would she risk wearing plain white lingerie like last year.

Reid rubbed a hand over his close-cropped blond hair while his intense look pinned her to the sidewalk. “It’s good to see you.” His baby-blues seemed to invade her soul, pull out her most intimate thoughts and bend them for his own pleasure. “You look great.”