“How’d it feel? Your first game, the crowd watching and cheering for you?” My fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt, found the synthetic waistband of her pants. They were unisex, fitting her better at the hips than the waist. I took advantage, letting the pads of my fingers sink under the scratchy black fabric and slide along the smoothness of her stomach.
She gasped at the contact, bowing her back into me and pulling her shirt over my arms to hide my wandering hands. “I doubt it was me they were watching.” Her voice caught on one of the words when I plucked at the waistband of her underwear.
“Did your parents watch?” We never talked about her family. But we didn’t really talk about mine either. My dad didn’t watch, that much I knew for fact.
“They don’t have cable. TV is a waste of perfectly good time to them.” She didn’t tense or stiffen in my arms, nothing to indicate my statement upset her.
“Still,” I pushed the issue, not sure why I was chasing it so hard, “to see their only daughter?”
She turned her head and scrunched her nose at me, her eyebrows squeezing together. “I’ll send them a link to the YouTube video of it if you’re so concerned.”
I pulled my hands back, unfastened the button, and lowered the zipper of her pants. The only thing keeping them from falling to her ankles was her ass tight against me.
“Laird! What are you doing?” Her ponytail tickled my chin as she twisted her head both ways, checking on the proximity of the closest cleaning crew.
“Scoring.”
Her hands slid to my wrists, not stopping me, just resting there.
I circled her navel with my middle finger. “I couldn’t get enough of you the other day before Marco interrupted us.” My finger sailed a slow arc down her stomach until I reached the edge of her pubic hair. She only kept a small ribbon of it, closely trimmed. I liked it. My finger trailed through it slowly, and I groaned when she clenched her ass, my growing erection throbbing behind its polyester cage.
“My fingers smelled like you all night.” Her breath hitched as I traced down one side of her slick heat and then the other, but avoided the tempting center. “They smelled like you and me mixed together. Better than soap, better than any perfume.” I stroked her feather-soft skin and was rewarded when she bloomed for me, swelling to my touch.
She whimpered, her grip on my wrists tightening for a moment.
“I wanted to do so much more. Rip your shorts off. Get on my knees. Lick you until you screamed and keep your wet lace as a souvenir.”
I dipped in, found her wet and melting for me. I coated my finger and drew the dampness higher until her hips bucked in response when I reached the right place. My other arm banded across her abdomen, keeping her snug against me, until not even a sixteenth note could’ve squeezed between us.
“What—” She stopped and licked her lips when her voice cracked. Tried again. “What would you have done with my panties?”
“Later that night, after I’d climbed in bed, I’d have used them while I stroked my dick. Pretended the slight scratch was your nails. Or your teeth. Pumped myself raw into the same scrap of cloth that had been pressed to you all day until I came.” I paused to run the tip of my tongue along her earlobe, and an absurd sense of pride swelled my chest when her breathing stuttered. “Then I’d have done it all over again.”
She tipped her pelvis up, her breathy moan floating away on a rare breeze. “Is that a thing you do? Steal underwear from your…” She didn’t finish, whether it was because she didn’t know how to label herself—label us—or because that was the exact moment I sank two fingers deep inside her with no warning.
Her grip convulsed around my wrists.
“No. I don’t have a drawer full of lingerie at the townhouse, if that’s what you’re asking.” But it made me picture a spot for her stuff. Top right of my dresser maybe. A place where she kept some spare clothes for the nights she didn’t leave, stayed in my bed—in my arms—all night long.
I’d build her a fucking armoire if that’s what it took.
Chop down the trees, cut the boards, and piece the damn thing together by fucking hand.
One day, I’d wake up in the morning and she’d be the first thing I saw. First thing I touched. First thing I tasted.
I twisted my fingers, added a third. She squirmed and my dick jumped, leaking on itself in excitement. “That’s it, Reese. There’s nothing better than feeling you clench around me. Feeling your heat and knowing it’s all for me.” She squeezed her thighs, but I used my foot to knock her legs wider apart. Opening her up further to my touch. “I’m not stopping until you’re done. Until the guys in the other end zone hear you scream my name.”
My thumb found her clit, tapped out a rhythm much like our warm-ups. I started slow, quarter notes with an accent on the third beat, speeding up every measure. I played her faster and faster, listened to her breathing, fine-tuned my touch. We reached the crescendo, little noises coming from her throat.
She was my favorite instrument, one I intended to master.
I strummed her clit, her back arching. She was close. “You’re beautiful, so damn beautiful like this.” She twisted her face to mine, her eyes wide and desperate, begging for release in those chocolate depths. Her nails dug sharp crescents in my wrists, and I reveled in the small bite of pain. Everything about her was drawn tight. I put my lips to her ear. “And mine. You’re all mine, Reese Holland.”
My claim sent her over the edge, and she slammed her lips against mine, my mouth catching her scream, my tongue coaching her back down. Each shudder of hers was a victory I savored, until she relaxed fully against me, replete with pleasure I’d given her.
Eli snorted, bringing me back to the present, like he’d already discovered all the secrets girls held over us.
The memory of Reese had me hard and aching and I rose from the bed and walked to the window so I could adjust myself discreetly.
“Easy there, tiger. There will be enough time for practicing the advanced moves when you get older. And if you ever need someone you can talk to and you’re too embarrassed to go to your mom, you can always ask me.”
He swallowed hard, those big eyes flicking up to meet mine. “Promise?”
“Promise. Bro code and all that, you know?” I came back to his bedside, met his gaze steadily.
“Right. The bro code.” He squinted a little, nodding in reassurance to himself.
I rapped out a few measures of my own on his bedrail and did a few tricks with my drumsticks to distract him. “Let’s go get Amelia and see your wooing skills in action. But let’s keep it above the waist today, yeah?”
“Hey, man, I can’t help it if she tries to sneak a peek at my ass. Have you seen the pickings around here? Pretty slim.” He snickered. “And these gowns make it easy to show off the goods.”
“Oh, Eli. You have so much to learn.” I heaved a big sigh like I was disappointed in him. “You can’t just put it all out there like that. You have to bait them, make sure they’re still thinking about you after you leave. What’s more interesting? A wrapped present or an unwrapped one?” His brow furrowed. I played a little drumroll while he thought about it. “A wrapped one. It’s the mystery of it that keeps them up at night. Mooning the ladies with your skinny butt isn’t your best tool.”
He wrung his fingers together and stuck out his lower lip. “Then what is my best tool?”
I immediately thought of Reese, of how I approached every interaction with her. “Figure out what makes her smile, then keep doing it. Remember what worked, and find new ways to earn one. Big smiles, little ones, all the kinds in between. Each one is its own victory. If she’s smiling, you’re doing something right.”
“It’s that simple?” He looked skeptical.
I nodded. “It’s that simple.”
He sucked in a deep breath, exhaling it all in a rush. “I can do that. Amelia always smiles around me.”
My chest felt too small for my heart. This kid. He was so much like Garrett, and it hurt and healed some of the rusty, unused parts of me at the same time. I wouldn’t fail with Eli though. He’d grow up big and healthy and strong. Do all the things Garrett never got a chance to do.