“Lookin’ for me?”
“There’s a problem with one of the sensors.”
“Which one?”
Her gaze dropped to his groin then jerked back up to his face. His conversation with Jeff had helped calm his libido, but seeing her eyes drift down his anatomy had him harder than cured maple again. “Left thigh.”
He wasn’t going to let her off so easy. He rubbed his leg while wishing he, or she, was rubbing something else. “Want me to drop my pants?”
Up. Down. Up. Down. Her gaze followed his hand as if he were hypnotizing her. He’d never tried mesmerizing a woman into bed with him. You are growing sleepy. No, make that, you are growing horny. Spread your legs, let me taste you.
That line of thought didn’t help anything. His hand stalled, and she looked into his eyes.
“Well…maybe. I don’t know. I need to see what’s up…. I mean, I need to see why it isn’t working.”
Damn, she was cute when she was flustered. His fingers itched to feel the heat coloring her cheeks, to trail down her body to test the temperature of the rest of her. If he peeled her T-shirt off, would he find more rosy skin?
“Come on.” He considered holding out his hand to her, but just waved her along as he turned and headed down the hallway. There was no time to seduce her. He had to get out to the bullpen to warm up.
She followed him to a small room stacked floor-to-ceiling with cases of water bottles and cardboard boxes containing God only knew what. Stuff they used in the clubhouse, he assumed.
As the door swooshed closed behind her, her eyes went wide. “A supply closet?”
“Hey, it’s private.” He worked his belt loose followed by the waistband button then the zipper. “You didn’t think I was going to let you grope me in the hallway, did you?”
“No.” Her gaze was locked on the triangle made by his open britches. “I….”
He leaned back against a stack of boxes and spread his legs. “Do what you need to do. I’ve got to go to work.”
She placed her laptop on a case of sports drinks then stepped forward. She moved as if she had pine tar stuck to the bottom of her shoes, all the while looking at his groin. His dick swelled until he was sure if she didn’t get a move on, he would explode right there.
“I haven’t got all day,” he reminded her.
He should have made it easy on her. He should have pushed his pants to his knees, but he hadn’t. She came closer. So close he could smell the floral scent on her hair. Below was an earthy scent that was all woman.
He was hard. Everywhere. He felt as if he’d turned to stone—living, breathing stone. While his body was frozen in limbo, his senses were painfully alive. The toe of her sneaker squeaked on the polished concrete floor. If he hadn’t already been blind with lust, her halo of spun gold hair would have done the job.
Toe-to-toe with him, she pressed the tips of her fingers to his stomach. He sucked in a breath and held it as her tiny hand slid inside his uniform. She skimmed the elastic band of his jock strap then moved down past the crease where his hip and thigh joined. Everywhere she touched him, his flesh burned.
As her hand explored farther south, her body pressed closer to his until her breasts flattened against his ribcage. She turned her head so her cheek met his sternum, her cute little nose so close to his left nipple her breath made the tiny nub pucker and bead.
Royce ground his teeth until the pain in his jaw forced him to speak. “Stop!”
With one hand on the box behind Royce and the other not more than an inch from finding the malfunctioning electrode, Tricia froze. If anyone were to see them like this, both their careers would be over. Well, maybe not his, but hers would be. It was her hand down his open pants. Her cheek pressed to his heaving chest, her forearm planking next to his raging hard-on.
His hands were flattened against the box in a sort of reverse Spider Man death grip. He wasn’t even touching her.
Embarrassment and shame washed over her followed by anger—at him for practically daring her to take his challenge, and at herself for doing so.
“I’m sorry.” She peeled her face from his incredibly warm chest even as she began to extract her hand. Fingers like steel bands clamped around her forearm, stilling her movement.
“Don’t. Move.”
Once again, she froze. His labored breaths stirred the hair on the top of her head. She didn’t dare look up at his face. Instead, she focused on his hand wrapped around her arm. She was fragile porcelain to his sturdy ironstone. As unbreakable as his grip was, it was gentle, too.
“I need a minute.”
Along the length of her forearm, his penis had escaped the bounds of his jock strap. A trickle of scalding liquid trailed down her skin. She licked her lips, wanting suddenly to taste that drop of pre-cum, to taste all of him.
She tugged on her arm, and he let her go. All the reasons she should not do what she was about to do ricocheted around inside her skull. Before one of the tiny bullets of sanity lodged in her brain, she grasped the waistband of his uniform in both hands, and sinking to the floor, she took his pants down with her.
He reacted fast, but perhaps having so much blood pooled in his groin was a detriment to his athleticism because his hands were too late. By the time he grasped her head between his palms to stop her, she’d freed his cock and swallowed as much of it as she could.
“Christ Almighty!” he hissed, digging his fingers into her scalp.
Tricia hummed her agreement, earning another growled oath from his lips. She used her tongue to taste him, sweeping along his length then swirling around the bulbous head until he rewarded her with another drop of pre-cum. He smelled like he tasted, salty and pure male.
Addicting. For a second she gave in to the sheer panic of thinking she could not live without tasting this man again. Then one of those missiles of sanity lodged in her brain.
What am I doing?! She tried to pull away, but his big hands held her steady.
“Fuck, no. Finish it, Tricia. Fucking finish it.”
Her heartbeat was bruising her ribs, pounding with enough force she thought the protective bones might crack.
Just this once. Never again. One time. For him. For me.
She wrapped the fingers of one hand around the base of his cock and braced her other against his hip. She’d only done this once before—in a car with a gearshift knob grinding into her tit and a steering wheel thumping against her skull. She’d been underage and stupid enough to believe the college senior when he’d said he cared about her. When she let his cum jettison onto his dress shirt, he’d called her a bitch and took her home.
This was different. She wanted to take Royce into her mouth. His desire was nothing more than a physical one, but it was one she returned wholeheartedly. She craved his scent, his taste, his strength. And when he took control, holding her head steady while he fucked her mouth, she submitted to him. He clearly knew what he was doing where she knew next to nothing.
He let go of her head with one hand long enough to force her fingers from his shaft, gently guiding them to his hip, silently encouraging her to hold on tight. She dug her nails into the rock-hard muscles as he drove his cock to the back of her throat.
Anatomy lessons were her friend. She remembered to breathe through her nose and relax the soft palette to lessen the gag reflex. He was big, but she was taking nearly all of him by the time he tensed and let go of her head, giving her the option to swallow his impending release or not.
There was no decision to make. She pulled his hips forward. The head of his cock hit the back of her throat. Royce’s fingers bit into her scalp. Muffled curses exploded in the fetid air. Liquid heat bathed her tongue then slid down her esophagus. She worked the muscles in her throat, swallowing and draining him at the same time.
When his body relaxed a tiny fraction, telling her he was spent, she eased back on her heels. She couldn’t bring herself to look at his face, but watched through her lashes as he righted his uniform, the wayward electrode still in need of repair.
She said nothing.
What could she say?
She’d literally blown her research project. On the second day.
“I’ve got to go. Do you want these back after the game?”
He meant the sperm-like electrodes. She shook her head, unable to explain that she had different ones to try out each day. She wouldn’t be needing them now. He had every right to be angry. She’d used him. Not like he’d expected to be used, but in the most degrading manner and unprofessional way possible.
“I’ll take them off myself, then. Meet me at the player gate after the game.”
She remained on her knees long after he’d left, the door closing behind him with a decidedly final kerthunk.
“There’s a problem with one of the sensors.”
“Which one?”
Her gaze dropped to his groin then jerked back up to his face. His conversation with Jeff had helped calm his libido, but seeing her eyes drift down his anatomy had him harder than cured maple again. “Left thigh.”
He wasn’t going to let her off so easy. He rubbed his leg while wishing he, or she, was rubbing something else. “Want me to drop my pants?”
Up. Down. Up. Down. Her gaze followed his hand as if he were hypnotizing her. He’d never tried mesmerizing a woman into bed with him. You are growing sleepy. No, make that, you are growing horny. Spread your legs, let me taste you.
That line of thought didn’t help anything. His hand stalled, and she looked into his eyes.
“Well…maybe. I don’t know. I need to see what’s up…. I mean, I need to see why it isn’t working.”
Damn, she was cute when she was flustered. His fingers itched to feel the heat coloring her cheeks, to trail down her body to test the temperature of the rest of her. If he peeled her T-shirt off, would he find more rosy skin?
“Come on.” He considered holding out his hand to her, but just waved her along as he turned and headed down the hallway. There was no time to seduce her. He had to get out to the bullpen to warm up.
She followed him to a small room stacked floor-to-ceiling with cases of water bottles and cardboard boxes containing God only knew what. Stuff they used in the clubhouse, he assumed.
As the door swooshed closed behind her, her eyes went wide. “A supply closet?”
“Hey, it’s private.” He worked his belt loose followed by the waistband button then the zipper. “You didn’t think I was going to let you grope me in the hallway, did you?”
“No.” Her gaze was locked on the triangle made by his open britches. “I….”
He leaned back against a stack of boxes and spread his legs. “Do what you need to do. I’ve got to go to work.”
She placed her laptop on a case of sports drinks then stepped forward. She moved as if she had pine tar stuck to the bottom of her shoes, all the while looking at his groin. His dick swelled until he was sure if she didn’t get a move on, he would explode right there.
“I haven’t got all day,” he reminded her.
He should have made it easy on her. He should have pushed his pants to his knees, but he hadn’t. She came closer. So close he could smell the floral scent on her hair. Below was an earthy scent that was all woman.
He was hard. Everywhere. He felt as if he’d turned to stone—living, breathing stone. While his body was frozen in limbo, his senses were painfully alive. The toe of her sneaker squeaked on the polished concrete floor. If he hadn’t already been blind with lust, her halo of spun gold hair would have done the job.
Toe-to-toe with him, she pressed the tips of her fingers to his stomach. He sucked in a breath and held it as her tiny hand slid inside his uniform. She skimmed the elastic band of his jock strap then moved down past the crease where his hip and thigh joined. Everywhere she touched him, his flesh burned.
As her hand explored farther south, her body pressed closer to his until her breasts flattened against his ribcage. She turned her head so her cheek met his sternum, her cute little nose so close to his left nipple her breath made the tiny nub pucker and bead.
Royce ground his teeth until the pain in his jaw forced him to speak. “Stop!”
With one hand on the box behind Royce and the other not more than an inch from finding the malfunctioning electrode, Tricia froze. If anyone were to see them like this, both their careers would be over. Well, maybe not his, but hers would be. It was her hand down his open pants. Her cheek pressed to his heaving chest, her forearm planking next to his raging hard-on.
His hands were flattened against the box in a sort of reverse Spider Man death grip. He wasn’t even touching her.
Embarrassment and shame washed over her followed by anger—at him for practically daring her to take his challenge, and at herself for doing so.
“I’m sorry.” She peeled her face from his incredibly warm chest even as she began to extract her hand. Fingers like steel bands clamped around her forearm, stilling her movement.
“Don’t. Move.”
Once again, she froze. His labored breaths stirred the hair on the top of her head. She didn’t dare look up at his face. Instead, she focused on his hand wrapped around her arm. She was fragile porcelain to his sturdy ironstone. As unbreakable as his grip was, it was gentle, too.
“I need a minute.”
Along the length of her forearm, his penis had escaped the bounds of his jock strap. A trickle of scalding liquid trailed down her skin. She licked her lips, wanting suddenly to taste that drop of pre-cum, to taste all of him.
She tugged on her arm, and he let her go. All the reasons she should not do what she was about to do ricocheted around inside her skull. Before one of the tiny bullets of sanity lodged in her brain, she grasped the waistband of his uniform in both hands, and sinking to the floor, she took his pants down with her.
He reacted fast, but perhaps having so much blood pooled in his groin was a detriment to his athleticism because his hands were too late. By the time he grasped her head between his palms to stop her, she’d freed his cock and swallowed as much of it as she could.
“Christ Almighty!” he hissed, digging his fingers into her scalp.
Tricia hummed her agreement, earning another growled oath from his lips. She used her tongue to taste him, sweeping along his length then swirling around the bulbous head until he rewarded her with another drop of pre-cum. He smelled like he tasted, salty and pure male.
Addicting. For a second she gave in to the sheer panic of thinking she could not live without tasting this man again. Then one of those missiles of sanity lodged in her brain.
What am I doing?! She tried to pull away, but his big hands held her steady.
“Fuck, no. Finish it, Tricia. Fucking finish it.”
Her heartbeat was bruising her ribs, pounding with enough force she thought the protective bones might crack.
Just this once. Never again. One time. For him. For me.
She wrapped the fingers of one hand around the base of his cock and braced her other against his hip. She’d only done this once before—in a car with a gearshift knob grinding into her tit and a steering wheel thumping against her skull. She’d been underage and stupid enough to believe the college senior when he’d said he cared about her. When she let his cum jettison onto his dress shirt, he’d called her a bitch and took her home.
This was different. She wanted to take Royce into her mouth. His desire was nothing more than a physical one, but it was one she returned wholeheartedly. She craved his scent, his taste, his strength. And when he took control, holding her head steady while he fucked her mouth, she submitted to him. He clearly knew what he was doing where she knew next to nothing.
He let go of her head with one hand long enough to force her fingers from his shaft, gently guiding them to his hip, silently encouraging her to hold on tight. She dug her nails into the rock-hard muscles as he drove his cock to the back of her throat.
Anatomy lessons were her friend. She remembered to breathe through her nose and relax the soft palette to lessen the gag reflex. He was big, but she was taking nearly all of him by the time he tensed and let go of her head, giving her the option to swallow his impending release or not.
There was no decision to make. She pulled his hips forward. The head of his cock hit the back of her throat. Royce’s fingers bit into her scalp. Muffled curses exploded in the fetid air. Liquid heat bathed her tongue then slid down her esophagus. She worked the muscles in her throat, swallowing and draining him at the same time.
When his body relaxed a tiny fraction, telling her he was spent, she eased back on her heels. She couldn’t bring herself to look at his face, but watched through her lashes as he righted his uniform, the wayward electrode still in need of repair.
She said nothing.
What could she say?
She’d literally blown her research project. On the second day.
“I’ve got to go. Do you want these back after the game?”
He meant the sperm-like electrodes. She shook her head, unable to explain that she had different ones to try out each day. She wouldn’t be needing them now. He had every right to be angry. She’d used him. Not like he’d expected to be used, but in the most degrading manner and unprofessional way possible.
“I’ll take them off myself, then. Meet me at the player gate after the game.”
She remained on her knees long after he’d left, the door closing behind him with a decidedly final kerthunk.