Dirty Player: A Rough Riders Novel (10 page)

“Please, stop.” I gasped as his tongue began to draw slow, swirling circles on my clit. “Too much.”

“You can go again. I can feel it.”

I dropped my head then and glared down at him. We were both still clothed, the top of my peach cover-up bunched in his hand at my hip.

I could barely see him. It didn’t matter.

When he dipped his head again, eating me like he had all fucking day to keep me propped against a barn wall, he was absolutely right.

It took moments before another climax hit me, this time deeper but slower, less dramatic but no less powerful.

I chanted in a whisper, nonsensical sounds and gasps of his name and curse words repeated.
Please, no, stop, too much, oh shit, fuck, yes, coming…
They all fell from my lips without thought.

Only ecstasy coursed through my body until he finally pulled back, adjusted my bottoms, and stood, pulling me into his arms.

“My dick is so fucking hard for you right now,” he said as I draped my arms around his shoulders.

I was listless in his arms, barely able to help hold myself around him as he took us out of the barn, pausing only to make sure he locked it behind us. My eyelids drooped, heavy from the pleasure he’d given me, and I was barely awake when he walked inside, kicked off his boots, and pulled mine off in his mudroom before he walked through the small house into a massive bedroom.

He dropped me onto the bed, then whipped off my cover-up before I could blink and look around. 

Then his shirt was gone, his shorts dropped to the floor.

His hands went to my swimsuit and I squirmed enough to remove my top for him.

“You okay for a little bit more?” he asked, already reaching into his nightstand, pulling out a condom, and covering his hard dick. “I can let you recover, but this is going to be fucking quick, I know it.”

I laughed softly at his honesty, unable to help myself. Brushing hair out of my eyes, I grinned up at him, unashamed I was spread out naked before him.

Standing in front of me was a man who could be carved out of marble and no one would know the difference. Every muscle in his chest and abs, his sides and his hips down to his thighs…everything I saw made drool pool in my mouth. Heat began to curl inside of me all over again.

I spread my legs and reached for him as he bent over me, the bed shifting from the weight as he crawled onto it.

“I’m good,” I said, my voice breathless and my throat dry. “Go as quick as you need.”

He smirked, pressed one hand next to my shoulder, and I wrapped my legs around him.

His other hand wrapped around his erection, he slid it through my slit and groaned. “You’re wet again. Fucking shit.”

Embarrassment flooded my cheeks and I glanced down, watching him slide his thickness through my folds.

“Don’t blush,” he whispered as he pressed the head of himself at my entrance. “It’s sexy as hell.” He dropped his head and groaned, and we both watched as he pressed into me. “So fucking tight.”

“Go slow,” I whispered. My body was unaccustomed not only to sex but to someone of his size. I ached from the rawness of what he’d already done to me so many times today and from my muscles stretching to accommodate him.

He pushed in slowly, pulling back out even more so. His arm next to me quivered from the strain of control.

“You okay?” he asked, lifting his head to look me in the eyes. We were inches away from each other, close enough that I could lean up and kiss him. I didn’t.

We’d been intimate enough, and the look in his eyes—the intensity along with the confusion—made me pull back.

He wanted to fuck me. He didn’t want to like me. I’d wanted the same until I saw his eyes go soft when he whispered into one of Ralph’s ears. It had been endearing and sweet, something I knew he hadn’t intended for me to see.

“I’m good.” I nodded and inhaled a deep breath. “Move how you need to.”

My permission shot through him like the snap of a rubber band. He didn’t ask for my certainty again. He just shoved his hips, pressing into me with a quick, hard movement until he was fully inside.

I pressed my head back into the pillow beneath me, my fingers clawing at the muscles in his back.

He went wild as he began thrusting and pulling back. The quick thrust of his hips against me would leave bruises. His muscles, the weight of him, it all sent me spinning and flying as I hung on for the wild ride.

“Feel so good. So tight. So fucking wet.” 

His eyes were closed, his lips twisted with rapture and concentration as he dropped to his elbows. His coarse chest hair brushed against my nipples, hardening them into painful points with every scrape of his body against mine.

I tightened my grip just above his hips, my body heating and igniting with every wicked thrust.

“Oliver.” I chanted his name, unable to control myself. I met his movements, pulled him to me.

His lips parted and his head dipped. He pressed his mouth to mine, his tongue instantly invading, and I was surrounded by him.

By his kisses, his weight, his scent, his muscles, and the powerful pistoning of his hips hitting the end of me every time he moved.

Our tongues swirled together, matching the movement of his cock. He fucked my mouth like he fucked my pussy. He grew more frantic and we swallowed each other’s groans as my pussy clenched around him, tightening and flexing with another orgasm. It came unbidden but was as reckless as he was. My abs tightened, heat shot from my spine to my sex, and I gripped him, nails digging into his skin so hard I knew they’d leave marks, but it only seemed to make him crazed.

He lifted his mouth from mine abruptly and then he buried his head into my neck as he seated himself harshly inside of me, balls-deep.

He groaned against my skin, his hand moving to dig into my hair, and he held my body tightly to him, molded to him as his own orgasm rolled through him.

I held on to him, loosening my grip to place my palms to his flesh. He was hot and sweating, muscles everywhere, and my palms easily slid up and down the length of his back.

“I’m crushing you.”

I liked it, more than I could or would admit. “Mm-hmm.”

Once his breath caught, he pulled back and I released my hold on him reluctantly. Surprise enveloped me as his gaze searched mine. I’d expected him to pull out immediately and clean up, not look at me with wide-eyed wonder. Instead, his gaze carried the same confusion I knew mine did. The worry that we’d somehow crossed a line.

That all of this…the day, our lust for each other, how good it felt when we were together…it was all too much and too unexpected.

His eyes left mine and trailed over my face, and then around me. “Fantasy one fulfilled,” he whispered quietly, a soft, pleased smile on his lips. “You look more gorgeous with your wild and crazy hair all over my pillow than I thought you would.”

I chuckled softly. 

He pulled me back from the heaviness of my thoughts and reminded me of what we were without being an ass about it. 

“You weren’t so bad yourself.”

I patted his ass and gasped as it made him move inside of me.

“Fucking hell. I need some recovery time,” he said, his lips twisting into a smirk.

“Good.” I shifted beneath him, unable to move, but he seemed to understand my intent. “Then maybe you could feed me and give me something decent to wear before we go again.”

His eyes searched mine, and I wondered if for once I was able to hide my lies behind my expressive eyes. He seemed to buy it enough, either because I had suddenly grown the ability to lie or because he wanted to believe the easiness in my words as much as I did.

“Shirts in the top drawer, shorts beneath them. Help yourself to anything you want.”

He hesitated before leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine. “I’ll go get cleaned up and leave a cloth for you in the bathroom.”

***

I looked at Oliver over my shoulder where I was digging through his fridge for something else to drink. We’d already eaten grilled steak and vegetables, but I was thirsty.

He had a dozen prepackaged containers labeled for shakes lined up and stacked to one side of the small, regular white fridge.

Everything I’d seen of Oliver since I slid into his lusciously leathered and beautiful car had thrown me for a loop.

“Do you need a protein shake or water?”

He lifted his brow before shaking off whatever thought he had. “Both. I can get the shake, though.”

“No problem.” I turned back to the fridge and pulled out the small container along with two bottles of water.

The blender was already out on the countertop, so I helped myself to it, dumping in the contents of the veggies before reaching for the jar of protein powder on the counter.

“You make these a lot?” Oliver asked as he reached around me and twisted off the top of the water bottle. “Beaux make you take care of him?”

I stiffened at the mention of my brother—how anything I’d done to help him succeed was because he’d made me. “No. I make them because I care about him.”

He was silent for a moment while I dumped in the powder, and then the only sound in the room was the whirling of the blender. I blended it longer than necessary, stabbing buttons to turn it off, unable to hide my irritation.

“Tell me about him. What’s Beaux really like?”

I frowned at the question. “He’s Beaux. I’m not sure I understand.”

Taking the mixer out of my hands, Oliver twisted and reached for a glass, dumping the thick green sludge inside.

He slammed it back, chugging it in one swallow, and cringed before he cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I have a hard time reading him. And in order to trust him, I need to know him.”

“Perhaps it’s his trust you have to earn.” I arched a challenging brow. Yeah, Oliver was the veteran on the offensive line, and he was team captain. But Beaux was still the QB. He had to trust who he was throwing the ball to, not the other way around.

“Can we talk about him without you getting defensive?”

I ground my teeth together. Was that what I’d been doing? For so long, it had just been Beaux and me against the world. It was a hard wall to drop.

“Sorry. What is it?” I reached for my own water and took a seat at the small but cozy kitchen table.

This time, Oliver seemed to measure his thoughts before speaking. “Is he really as laid-back as he seems?”

I tilted my head. “Yeah. I guess. He doesn’t let anything get to him. Is that why you’ve been such a dick to him? You don’t think he takes this shit seriously?”

“There are men who join the game for the game and not the work.”

I snorted. If he only knew. “How cute. I’ll tell Beaux that. He’ll think it’s fucking hilarious. You think he made it as far as he has based solely on natural talent and not his work ethic? How fucking hypocritical of you.”

Oliver’s water bottle crushed inside his death grip. “He lacks intensity. It worries me.”

“He has confidence in his ability and the members of his team in spades. That keeps him loose.”

It hit me then, why it bothered him so much. My irritation that had prickled at the first question began to flicker and disappear. “That’s why it bothers you, isn’t it? He’s enjoying himself out there. Playing his hardest, loving the ride and the life and the game and hell, everything else he has to do in order to get on top and stay there, and it pisses you off he does that while still having fun.”

His lip curled. I’d made my point. 

“Tell him he’s hesitating a half-second too long in the pocket. He needs to speed up his throws or he’s going to get sacked every game.”

“Maybe you should get open quicker.”

Another lip curl. Another wave of irritation rolled off him like a tidal wave. Something else I couldn’t miss sparked and burned brighter.

“Fucking hell,” Oliver growled. “How is it that you’re pissing me off, and all I can think about is bending you over this table and fucking the attitude out of you?”

A delicious, warm shiver rolled down my spine.

“You want that?” He stepped forward, setting the damaged bottle on the counter. “Do you know how fucking hot it is that I can read every thought that flashes through your eyes? You hide nothing from me.”

That could be a disaster at some point.

I swallowed a huge gulp of water to settle my nerves and stood from my chair. “Exactly how would you like it to happen?”

I turned my back to him then and pulled his gray shirt, which I’d thrown on earlier, over my head.

I’d barely gotten it tossed onto the floor when one of his hands was at my hip, the other between my shoulder blades, pushing me down.

And then my shorts were pulled down, my legs kicked apart.

His lips hit my shoulder and I heard the tear of foil right before his cock drove into me, not giving me time to adjust—but I was already wet and ready for him.

When we were done, he learned that even a deliciously hard fucking that was quick and powerful wasn’t enough to erase the attitude from me.