Beauty and the Running Back (5 page)

“It’s almost two in the morning,” he laughs.

“Seriously?” I ask, straightening up. God, time does fly
when you’re hooking up with the sexiest man you’ve ever met.

“I don’t want Coach to find your bed empty in the morning
and lock you in a safe room for the rest of the semester,” Dean says, lacing
his fingers through mine and leading me around the practice field.

“You know something?” I reply, “I honestly wouldn’t put it
past my father to do that.”

Dean and I walk along in happy, dazed silence. The faculty
houses that make up my section of the neighborhood are all gorgeous old
victorians and colonials—reserved for only the most serious tenured professors,
deans, and department heads. And in the case of Rayburn University, the football
coach and his family. I loop my arm through Dean’s as we walk along, resting my
head on his shoulder. Our time together is such a blissful secret, such a
departure from both of our everyday lives. All I want is to keep this private
world of two all to ourselves for as long as possible.

“This is me,” I whisper, pausing under an oak tree in my
family’s front lawn.

“Damn,” Dean says under his breath, “Coach has it good.”

“Coach is also a heavy sleeper, thank god,” I smile,
planting a kiss on Dean’s cheek, “I’ll see you soon. Tutoring starts this week,
you hear me?”

“Should I bring an apple along to our session?” he asks,
running a hand through my blonde hair. “Or would making you come again be
sufficient?”

“If you don’t know which one of those a girl would prefer,
you need far more instruction than I can offer,” I smile, turning toward the
trellis.

I can feel Dean’s eyes on my body as I climb onto the low
roof outside my bedroom door, pushing open the window pane as quietly as
possible. I slip inside, turning back to take one last look at him. Every cell
in my body is begging for just a few more minutes with him, but I know it isn’t
time yet. As much as I would have been down to break out that condom tonight
and get down on the practice football field, I want to wait until we get to
know each other a little better. Dean isn’t just some one night stand, or
clandestine study-abroad lay. He’s someone I could come to care about, I think.
Someone who could come to care about me.

Dean and I share a wave goodbye before I close my window at
last. I switch on my bedside lamp and flop back onto my twin bed, marveling at
everything that just transpired. The second my mind alights on the memory of
Dean working over my pussy, I have to reach for the vibrator hidden in a hollowed-out
book in my bedside table.

What can I say? This boy has made me insatiable.

Chapter Four

Dean

“Dude, what the fuck is the matter with you?”

“Hmm?” I mutter, dragging my attention back to the moment at
hand as Buck and I head for the locker rooms after another grueling practice
the following Wednesday.

“Noel has been eye-fucking you from the sidelines for, like,
two hours and you haven’t made a move,” my friend says, sounding almost
offended.

I glance over to where the cheerleaders are holding their
practice and spot Noel among their number. Yep. Buck is right. She is fucking
me six ways to Sunday with those wide set brown eyes of hers. Not two months
ago, I would have taken this opportunity by the horns and jumped right into bed
with a girl like Noel. But now? Her persistence isn’t doing anything for me.
Not at all. Don’t get me wrong, I still know a hot girl when I see one. But I
don’t feel any need to follow through. Not anymore.

“Why don’t you go for her if you’re so obsessed?” I ask Buck,
giving him a shove with my shoulder.

“I already tried,” Buck grumbles, “But she doesn’t want me.
She wants
you
. And I’m not an asshole who doesn’t know how to take no
for an answer like fucking Royce.”

I follow Bryan’s gaze and see our quarterback chatting up
Esther, the head cheerleader. Her attitude toward him has cooled and then some.
I guess even being the quarterback of a D1 college football team isn’t enough
to win over the ladies if you’re still an entitled prick. I try not to feel too
smug about watching Royce get ignored by someone he feels like he deserves… but
damn, is it satisfying to see him fall on his face.

“Seriously though,” Buck insists, “Do you have something
else on the side you haven’t told me about?”

I bite my tongue, knowing that I need to tread carefully
here. Buck and I are used to telling each other everything about our sexual
conquests. But we don’t really have a protocol for relationships that aren’t
just
sexual. Not that Jessa and I are in a relationship or anything, but… You know…
We could be, sometime soon. I decide to throw Bryan a bone. Shit, I could use
someone to talk to about all this.

“Well. There is
someone
…” I begin cautiously.

“I knew it!” Buck crows, pounding me on the back, “You’ve
been holding out on me, bro! So, what’s the deal?”

“No deal,” I shrug, “We’re just, you know. Hanging out.”

“Yeah? And how is she?” he asks, grinning lasciviously.

“Jesus Christ, Buck. Grow up,” I snap.

“Ohh shit!” he howls, eyes going wide. “You haven’t fucked
her yet?”

“That’s none of your—”

“Who is this girl, anyway?” Buck demands, “She must really
be something if you’re putting all this time
in
when she’s not putting
out
.”

I’m about to tell Buck exactly where he can shove it when I
spot a familiar glimmer of blonde hair across the stadium. Jessa has appeared
at the locker room entrance, flagging down her father as he exits the field.
The untrained eye could never tell, but she looks nervous to be here. Or is it
excited? For my part, I’m just stunned to see her and the Coach actually speaking
to one another. It’s not exactly a common occurrence, especially in public.
Jessa’s handing him a set of house keys—he must have forgotten them at home or
something.

“Oh, fuck…” Buck breathes, following my spellbound gaze all
the way across the field to where Jessa Cahill is standing. “Are you serious,
bro?”

“What?” I ask, playing dumb.

“Don’t ‘what’ me. I know that look anywhere,” he shoots
back, “You’re going after Coach Cahill’s daughter?!”

“Say it a little louder, why don’t you?” I growl, looking
around to make sure no one’s heard him.

“Do you have a death wish or something, Crash?” Buck goes
on, “You think the coach is gonna let this stand?”

“The coach isn’t gonna find out,” I say threateningly.

“Yeah. Sure,” Buck says, rolling his eyes, “It’s not like
this entire campus is watching your love life like it’s under a damn
microscope, right?”

“You think I don’t know how to cover my tracks, Wallace?” I
challenge him.

“Sure you do,” he replies, “But not well enough to stop the
Rayburn gossip machine.”

I try to look straight ahead as we come up on Coach Cahill
and Jessa. We have to walk right past them to get into the locker room, and now
Buck has me all paranoid about it. But the second Coach sees his running back
and wide receiver approaching, he turns to face us with as near to a smile as I’ve
ever seen him crack.

“There you are, Crash,” Coach Cahill says, beckoning me
over, “Have you had a chance to officially meet my daughter yet?”

Oh, I’ve just had my tongue down her throat a few dozen
times,
I think to myself.

“Jessa, this is Dean Carter. Though around here we call him
Crash,” Coach says to his daughter, “He’s the one you’re going to be tutoring.”

“Nice to meet you, Jessa,” I say to her, hoping I’m not
laying it on too thick.

“Nice to meet you too,” she says politely, keeping her arms
crossed firmly across her chest. I can tell from her body language that she’s
not thrilled about even having to spend a few minutes in her dad’s company.

“Why don’t you come on over to the house tomorrow so you two
can study?” Coach suggests to me, “My wife Marianne and I have a function at
the church, so you two will have the place to yourselves.”

I pray to god that Buck doesn’t burst out laughing beside
me.

“Sure,” I say to the Coach, my eyes fixed on Jessa, “That
would be great.”

Our bemused, excited gaze lingers for another moment.
Neither of us can believe our good luck. We’re going to get an entire house to
ourselves not 24 hours for now. And I, for one, am pretty sure what that means…

Jessa

My hands are shaking as I desperately clear my room of
anything that’s too girlish or immature. Dean is going to be here any second
for our “study session”, which means that before long we’re going to have my
entire house to ourselves. For hours. Something tells me that we’re going to
end up here, in my bedroom. At least I hope so.

The doorbell sends a shudder of anticipation down my spine,
and I all but sprint out of my room to answer it. But my mom is one step ahead
of me. I watch from the second story landing as she opens the door and welcomes
Dean inside. My fingers close tightly around the banister as he steps in and
takes a look around, his eyes finally swinging up to meet mine. I’m surprised I
don’t topple right down the stairs in my eagerness to be back in his arms.

“There he is,” I hear my dad say from the kitchen. He
appears in the foyer beside my mom and Dean. Each of my parents is wearing
their Sunday best for this church thing, even if it’s only Thursday.

“Hey Coach,” Dean offers, “Mrs. Cahill.”

“What’re you still doing up there, Jessa?” Dad asks,
spotting me on the landing. “Come on down here! You have some tutoring to do.”

I come down the stairs and join the party. It’s so strange
to see this man who I’ve been sneaking off to run my hands all over standing in
the middle of my house. And to have my parents be none the wiser.

“There’s some iced tea and leftover baked ziti in the fridge
if you kids get hungry,” Mom says, her hands clasped together in front of her.
This is the first time we’ve had anyone over since we moved in, and she’s super
excited to bestow some Southern hospitality.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” I tell her, “You guys are only
going to be out for a couple of hours, right?”

“Yeah, but studying is hungry work,” Dad says, “And we’ve
got to make sure our running back stays well-fed, don’t we?”

I try not to scowl at my dad. At least not overtly. It’s
just that his Affable Gentleman act grates at my nerves, especially since I
know first hand how quickly that act can fade away when he’s angry. I just wish
he was on as good behavior around his family as he is with his favorite
football players, is all.

“Thanks again for setting this up, Coach,” Dean says as my
parents head for the door, “I really appreciate it.”

“Not at all,” Dad replies, waving goodbye, “Anything you
need, Crash.”

Even if
anything
includes your youngest daughter?
I think to myself.
You have no idea just how generous you’re being, Dad.”

And just like that, Crash and I are alone in my house.
Together. It’s only been a handful of weeks since we even first spoke, but I
feel like I’ve been waiting for this moment forever. We listen as my parents
drive away, though I can barely hear their car engine over the sound of my own
rapidly beating heart.

“So…” I begin, shifting back and forth on my feet, “Would
you… Uh… Like a tour of the house?”

“Yeah. I would like that,” Dean smiles, his eyes hard on my
face.

I turn and begin to lead him through the ground floor,
starting in our old-fashioned kitchen, where he stumbles upon an old picture of
me and my sister hanging on the fridge. I’m four years old in the snap shot,
with platinum blonde hair and an oversized tee shirt. Allison is six, her
chestnut hair hanging in loose curls. We’re standing knee-deep in the ocean,
holding up a starfish we’ve stumbled upon. It’s amazing how misleading pictures
can be. What you don’t see in this shot is the fight Mom and Dad had later that
night that cut our beach vacation short. The sleepless nights Allison and I
would spend huddled in our room, listening to the sounds of their arguing.
Maybe someday I’ll tell Dean all about this, too. But not yet. Not today.

Dean studies the photograph, letting a smile spread across
his face.

“Is that you and your sister?” he asks.

“Yep. I’m the littler one,” I tell him, leaning against the
fridge.

“You were a cute kid,” he observes, shooting me a grin.

“All kids are cute,” I shrug.

“I wasn’t,” he replies, “I was the chubbiest little dude
you’ve ever see in your life.”

“I don’t believe you,” I smile, “Besides, who says chubby kids
aren't cute?”

“Fair point,” he says, holding up his hands, “But I’m just
telling you straight. I was a real motherfucking chubster.”

“Well. You sure grew into that body of yours,” I smile,
walking past him into the living room to continue the tour.

As we walk through the ground floor, Dean takes note of
every little detail in the house. Every childhood knick knack, every book,
every picture. It’s like he’s some kind of detective, looking for clues about
me that he can string together to form a clearer picture. I’m not used to this
kind of intense interest from a guy. Again, I find myself wondering what I did
to catch Dean’s interest. Something tells me that it isn’t every one of his
lady friends who gets this kind of treatment.

Dean’s reputation precedes him on campus. He, along with the
rest of the football players, are infamous for going to bed with a ton of
women. There’s barely a girl on campus who hasn’t been with a football player
or two during her time at Rayburn. But Dean isn’t the type to brag about his
conquests or air out his drama on campus. From what I can tell, he’s never had
a proper girlfriend here at college. But that confuses me more than anything.
If he doesn’t just want a one night stand, and his doesn’t want a girlfriend,
then what are we doing here?

I occurs to me, as we climb the stairs, that maybe spending
time with me like this is all part of the “the chase” for him. Maybe all this
attention and connection will only last until we sleep together. I shake my
head, dislodging the thought. Nothing about Dean’s behavior leads me to believe
that he’s just going to kick me to the curb. And besides, I’m not looking for
something serious either, here. So if we do drift apart after we have sex—which
I desperately want to do—I’ll just have to deal with it.

Welcome to being a sexually active adult, Jessa,
I
think to myself wryly.
First lesson: Sometimes sex is just sex.

“Last but not least…” I say to Dean, pushing open my bedroom
door.

He steps slowly over the threshold, looking around my room
with something approaching reverence. Seeing him here, just steps away from my
bed, is almost too much for me to handle. The anticipation of these last few
weeks is reaching a fever pitch. Dean turns to face me where he stands in the
middle of the room. For a long moment, neither of us can think of anything to
say. Finally, a slow smile appears on Dean’s perfect features.

“Just for the record,” he starts, his voice riding low in
his chest, “We’re not gonna bother pretending to study, are we?”

“Christ, I hope not,” I breathe, taking a step toward him,
“I’m not sure I’ll make it if I have to wait any longer to get my hands on
you.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he says, holding out his arms
to me.

I rush into his embrace, raking my hands through this sandy
blonde hair as he catches me against his sturdy body. The first taste of him
sends a tremor of need through my body, pooling in my core. I’ve been waiting
for this, dreaming of this, getting myself off to this for weeks. And now it’s
finally here.
He’s
finally here.

“I want you, Jessa,” Dean murmurs, backing me up toward the
bed.

“I want you too. So much,” I gasp, running my hands down his
impeccable abs.

“What you were saying the other night, about never having
had anyone get to know your body…” he says, looking at me with bold, hot
desire, “I want to do all those things for you, that no one else has done. I
want to make you come every way I know how.”

“How… How many ways do you know?” I ask, my eyes growing
wide.

“Let me show you,” he murmurs, guiding me down into the bed.

“Show me, then…” I whisper, spreading my legs as I sit on
the edge of the bed.

Dean lifts my blue blouse up over my head, revealing a white
cotton bra. I tug off his black tee shirt, letting it fall to the ground beside
my bed. With an expert flick of the wrist, Dean reaches around my body and
unhooks my bra. My breasts spill out in the late afternoon light as Dean kneels
between my spread legs. I hook my ankles behind his back as he lowers his lips
to my chest. Cupping my breasts firmly in his rough hands, he takes one hard
nipple in his luscious mouth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue as he rubs
his thumb lightly over the other. The muscles of my sex clench involuntarily as
a sudden rush of sensation races through me.

“You like that?” Dean asks, his lips vibrating against my
hard nipple as he goes to take the other in his mouth.

“It’s amazing,” I breathe, letting my head fall back between
my shoulders.

He sucks hard on my erect nipple, using just the slightest
bit of teeth as he pulls away. I suck in a breath, delighted by the mix of pain
and pleasure. Dean’s lips travel down my stomach as he pops open the button of
my jeans shorts. Eagerly, I push my shorts down and kick them off, sitting
before Dean in nothing but a black thong. With just the right amount of firm
guidance, Dean places my hands back on the bed. His action clearly says,
Let
me
. And I’m more than willing to abide.

Kissing along the flat plane of my stomach, Dean pushes me
onto my back. I lay myself out before him, ready to put my body entirely in his
hands. He makes me feel so safe, so taken care of, that ceding control doesn’t
even scare me. I watch as he kisses just above the top of my thong, nipping at
the point of my hip bone as his eyes flick up to mine. He pauses in his
attentions to unbuckle his belt, stepping out of his jeans so that he’s wearing
nothing but a pair of red boxer briefs.

My eyes go wide as they trace along the throbbing outline of
his cock. I’ve felt hints of his enormity before, but seeing it with my own
eyes is another matter entirely. My mouth begins to water as I imagine taking
that massive cock between my lips, running my tongue all along its impressive
length. The pressure between my legs surges as I imagine what he would feel
like, driving into my wet, eager pussy…

But why imagine when we can know?

“You like what you see?” he grins, swinging my legs onto the
bed and kneeling over me.

“And then some,” I breathe, laying beneath him as he lowers
his mouth toward my pussy once again.

Dean keeps his eyes on mine as he closes his teeth around
the edge of my panties, pulling them down my thighs. I spread my legs wide for
him as he tugs my thong off my body, letting it fall onto the bedspread beside
us. My knees begin to tremble as he drinks in the sight of me, spread wide open
before him. No one’s ever looked at me with so much desire. So much awe. So
much
hunger
.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he growls, setting his hands
firmly on my thighs as he brings his mouth to my sopping wet sex.

My words fall away as I feel his breath against my slick
wetness. He pushes back against my thighs as he brings his lips my pink flesh.
My back arches as he traces his tongue along my pulsating slit, delving into
the lips of pussy with every pass. A low, warm feeling of bliss starts to
collect inside of me. It’s like my body temperature is rising with every lick
of that expert tongue. But then, Dean pushes back the hood of my clit. He
flicks the tip of his tongue against that tender bundle, and I can feel by body
straining against its very edges. As he lavishes my clit with his tongue, I
feel like I could disintegrate under the intensity of my own bliss.

“Oh my god,” I gasp, bucking my hips as teases my clit,
“Dean, that’s so good…”

But he doesn’t stop there. With his mouth attending to my
elated clit, he slides two thick fingers back into my pussy. My legs are
shaking uncontrollably as I feel him everywhere, enveloping me in hot,
overpowering sensation. My eyes screw up as I realize I’m a goner. There’s
nothing to do now but give in. Flinging my arms out and grabbing handfuls of
sheets, I let Dean send me flying forward into bliss.

With one last, firm flick of his tongue, he pushes me right
over the edge. I cry out as I come hard into his waiting mouth. Waves and waves
of sensation roll over my body, leveling me with their sheer power. Dean holds
onto me as if I could really be swept away, lapping up my juices and savoring
every drop. My body falls heavily back against the mattress as if steamrolled. 
My bare chest rises and falls as Dean kisses up along my thigh, my stomach, my
chest. I roll into his body as he wraps me up in his arms, bringing his mouth
to mine. I can taste myself on his lips and tongue as he kisses me deeply there
in my bedroom. I press my body to Dean’s in stunned silence, my mind still
scrambling to comprehend what wondrous event just went down, here. Dean looks
down at me in the afternoon light, studying my happily befuddled face.

“You OK?” he asks softly, running his hand down my side.

“OK?” I laugh softly, kissing his chest, “I’m
fantastic
.”

Dean laughs, pulling me closer.

“I love that I get to show you all of this…” he murmurs,
stroking my hair.

“I hope you’ll let me show you a thing or two myself,” I
smile, glancing up at him. “I may not be able to introduce you to that much you
haven’t had before, but…”

I run my fingers along the band of his briefs, which are
barely containing his massive erection. Dean breathes deeply as I slip my hand
under the fabric of his underwear. I hold my breath as my hand brushes against
his thick, rigid cock. Wrapping my fingers around his shaft, I can barely take
him in one hand. He lets out a low groan as I work my hand along his cock,
stroking him with a firm grip. I can feel his manhood growing harder in my
grasp with every second, and I smile delightedly—thrilled to be giving him
pleasure.