The Guy in the Middle (The Underdogs Book 3) Page 5

  “Look, I know, I mean I can tell you’re being careful, and you don’t want to hurt me…”

  “Are we having that talk already? I want to Make. You. Come. Not start a conversation.”

  “Right, sorry. Yes.”

  “Yes, what?” He taunts in a slow grind. I’m soaked. With no shame, I meet his thrusts until he backs away, taunting me. “Yes, what? Harper?”

  “Yes. Make me come.”

  He leans down and takes my lips while slowly grinding into me. With another leisurely stroke and thorough kiss, he pulls away, his hips still in motion, and I feel every inch of his dick sliding along my center.

  “Fuck, this feels so good,” he breathes. “It does, Harper, you,” he shakes his head. “God, the ways I want you.”

  “I’m right here.”

  “You’re not ready for what I want to do to you.”

  “Make me ready.”

  “Damn, woman.”

  Grind. Thrust.

  Grind.

  Thrust.

  My needy clit pulses with each slow stroke as he does it again and again. It’s agonizing for both of us, a lot of tease without reward but the view of him hovering above is more than enough. He’s looking right at me, deep cloudy eyes filled with heat, long dark lashes flitting over his cheekbones as he gives in to the pull, closing his eyes, biting his lips while he works me.

  “I’m going to lose my shit,” he rasps out. He drives then, his hips hitting me perfectly. And that’s when I feel it, the edge of an orgasm. It’s small, subtle at first but it creeps up in a tiny wave climbing until it unfurls through my whole body. I go over, pulsating everywhere, my body catching fire as Lance thrusts again spurring it on, milking it, while gripping my jaw to watch it happen. No man has ever watched me come, and I’m fascinated by his response to me. Somehow it means something, and I don’t think either of us isn’t aware of it. I could be romanticizing. And maybe I am, but I have a beautiful man between my legs, and that is something. I appreciate it for what it is. Lance buries his head in my neck, his cock rock hard on my thigh.

  And then I go limp, my pulse still humming, my body covered in a thin veil of sweat.

  “That was…”

  “So good.” His voice is all I hear before he claims my mouth in a hungry kiss. When he pulls away, I look up at him with a new perspective. I want to hand him an award of some sort, but I grant him my awkward reaction instead.

  “You are really good at that.”

  “What do you think about doing this again?”

  I grin up at him. “Not much in it for you.”

  “Let’s rectify that.” He lifts one side of his mouth and takes my hand in his. Together we palm his cock. He groans into my mouth taking it with a possessive kiss as I take over, dipping into his shorts and pumping his length with my hand.

  “That’s it, this will be quick,” he rasps out seconds before he pulses in my hand. He lets out an exaggerated breath, his face straining, his mouth slightly parted before he stares down at me with wonder. After, we lay spent on the mat for minutes in silence, our bodies tangled.

  Once rested, he pulls me up to sit with him.

  “I had fun tonight, just…hanging out. Fooling around. I don’t see the harm, if you don’t.”

  “I don’t fool around, Lance.” I lift from the mat, realizing where we are and how far we’ve come from casually sharing pizza and conversation in mere minutes.

  What in the hell?

  I just let a guy dry hump me on a gym mat. I look over to see Lance isn’t at all weirded out by this. To me, it might as well have been voyeurism.

  “Oh my God, what if there are cameras?”

  “There aren’t. I asked Jake the other…”

  I narrow my eyes.

  He winces, “when I got my key?”

  It’s obviously a lie, but I let him have it. All that matters is that we weren’t on camera. It’s my worst fear and for good reason. What in the hell was I thinking? I pull myself together while Lance reads my change in demeanor.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Just something…nothing. Paranoia.”

  “I can prove there are no cameras.”

  “What?” I ask, still dazed. I’ve never done anything like this. Not even close. I feel free and terrified at the same time.

  “I believe you,” I say, mind reeling.

  “I’m not sure you do, come on,” he stands and grabs my hand. I take it as he escorts me to the office. It’s pretty basic, nothing to see.

  “If there were cameras, there would be a monitoring system in here. Text Jake, he’ll tell you.”

  “Okay.” I breathe a little easier.

  “Did we go too fast?” He’s on edge, and I put him there.

  “No. Not too fast. I just had a moment. I’m good.”

  Slightly at ease, he pulls me to him and lifts my chin with his palm. “So, what do you think? I mean about doing this again? Food, conversation, fooling around?”

  “Are you asking me out?”

  “I’m asking for more of what we did here. No pressure.”

  “I don’t know about here.”

  “I still want to watch you dance.”

  That comment lights me up from inside. “I can dance anywhere.”

  “For me?”

  “Maybe. I need to go.”

  He draws his brows. “Okay.”

  “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

  It’s clear he’s not happy about my quick retreat, but I need council. Like now. With my sister or René. Either will do for the moment. I’m in unchartered territory. I need to pull up my big girl panties, but right now, they’re soaked, courtesy of Lance Prescott. Gathering my things, I leave him standing in the middle of the gym.

  Harper

  Safely inside my Toyota. I shoot off a text to my best friend René.

  SOS. Call me now.

  My phone rings and I answer, starting my RAV4 and putting my phone in the cradle when the Bluetooth connects.

  “Mami. What is it? I have three minutes until my Uber gets here.

  “I just got dry humped by a hot-ass ballplayer.”

  “Tell me everyting. Is dis de guy from de gym?”

  “YES!” I press my forehead to the wheel. “God, René, it was like my whole body lit on fire.”

  “So hot. Did ju finish?”

  “Finish?”

  “Get offs?”

  “Off. Yes. What do I do?”

  “Send him a thank ju card.”

  “Really?”

  “Hell no. Oh God, jour a hopeless and dopey romantics, and ju chose a jocks to fool around with? Not smart, Mami.”

  “I know. Trust me, but he’s so damned sexy.”

  “Dey always are. Until dey steal jour favorite shirt and go have sex with another man while wearing it!”

  “I don’t think I’m in that same danger.”

  “Lucky ju.”

  “You know whenever you say that it sounds like you’re calling me a lucky Jew.”

  “Aren’t ju?”

  I grin. “Tonight I am.”

  “Look, have fun. Don’t over tink tings. This is probably a flings.”

  “Fling.”

  “Same thing.”

  A knock at the window has me jumping out of my skin. I look over to see Lance holding the pizza box. Mortified, I roll down my window and narrow my eyes.

  “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Pretty much your entire conversation.” Lance chuckles. “You forgot this, and my ride is here.” He points to a white Taurus. “I couldn’t hold out any longer.”

  “Who is that? Mami?” I turn the volume way down; my eyes bugging out of my head. All the blood rushes to my face as I snatch the box out of his hands.

  Lance leans down, his presence stealing my breath. “So, no thank you card?”

  “It’s rude to eavesdrop.”

  “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t fake that orgasm.”

  “You know damn w
ell I—”

  He snatches my face into his hands and plants a long hard kiss on my lips. When he pulls away, his eyes are shining with amusement. “Goodnight, Mami.”

  Harper

  Lance’s tongue swirls around my center in a tease before he begins to lap me up while I rip at his thick hair. Since we’ve started to get intimate, the minute we enter the gym, we enter a different world.

  Tonight, the second I locked the door he crossed the gym to meet me and we collided. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation on either of our parts. The trust he’s been earning evident now as he keeps me pinned, his hands around my wrists, his mouth devouring me.

  For the last two weeks, we’ve been taking it as far as we can go without actually ‘doing’ the deed. Some nights we study. Others he works himself stupid on the bag until he collapses, mostly silent due to his frustrations. It’s getting easier to gauge his moods. And it’s also getting easier for me to see the weight on his herculean shoulders. Today he’s been more talkative than usual. Taking a break from his workout to watch me dance. Sometimes he sits atop the mats and just watches, quick to compliment, always ready to give soundless approval with the look on his face alone. He’s replaced every single man in my fantasies, and tonight, after touching and tasting me the way he has, I doubt he’ll be excluded in any of them in the future.

  “Yes, right THERE!”

  His gravelly chuckle sounds throughout the room as I sink further into the mat, my legs over his shoulders, thighs spread wide as he goes as deep as his tongue will allow. Shaking uncontrollably, I come on his tongue, and he laps me up, a master at his craft. He’s gone down on me twice and never asked me to return the favor. I plan on reciprocating soon but have been gun shy due to lack of experience. The more he touches me, looks at me, the bolder I become. Content with a sigh, I lay back as he moves up my body and takes my mouth in a kiss, my flavor on his tongue. Deep groans erupt from his throat, his stone erection pressed against me until he pulls away, frustrated. “Harper, I want you alone,” he rasps out. “I need to get you alone.”

  “We are alone,” I answer between kisses, goosebumps covering my flesh. I feel safe with him. The way he touches me, covers me, it’s all I think about lately. That and his infectious laugh, the way he strokes my skin, his tender words surprising in contrast to his rough exterior. I’m enamored, and honestly proud to have the attention of a man of this caliber. For other women, I’m sure a football star is all they see, but I see the accompanying stars that make up his constellation. Football is such a small part of who he is. Between our talks about ambition, love of family, and all they entail, I know the matter, the makeup of this man and trust it to be the truth. I feel it with his every word, his every action. It’s then I make the decision.

  I separate us so I can look up at him, tracing the barbed wire tattoo around his arm with my fingers.

  “I want you in my bed.” He carefully weighs my reaction. “Tomorrow night. Unless you think—”

  “Now.”

  “Now?”

  “Right now.”

  “Lance, I want, I want…”

  He exhales, warm breath hitting my center, my back bowing from his mattress. We’ve been at it for what seems like hours, unable to go more than a few seconds without attacking the other.

  “Now, I want you now, all of you.”

  He rises to hover above me and shakes his head. “Harper, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I’m not going to be the one to take it.”

  “I’m not a virgin. I mean, technically, I’m not. I told you that.”

  “My intentions aren’t pure for the moment. I can’t think past fucking you. And you deserve better.”

  “And?” I wrap my legs tightly around him. “You had every intention of following through when you brought me here. Don’t bullshit me, Lance.”

  “It’s just that I like you,” he murmurs against my mouth. “And I don’t know what happens after.”

  “Sure, you do,” I say softly. “We both do.” I lean in and suck his lip. He groans as he thrusts into me fully clothed, making me gasp out his name. “I want this.”

  “Harper, if we take this further, we take it further in and out of this room. I can’t guarantee I’m the best guy for you.”

  “I know you are. I don’t need your assurances.”

  “It should be with someone who can promise you a future.”

  “Lance,” I pull back to make sure he hears me. “Please don’t be offended. But I’m not asking you for your future. I don’t need you to promise me forever or even tomorrow. When I think of my future, it has little to nothing to do with a man. I’m not planning my life around a man, now or ever. I’m a dancer, that’s what I want to be.”

  His eyes do nothing to shield his surprise. “Wow.”

  “Yeah, so don’t worry, I don’t need you to put a ring on it, I need you to put a condom on it. As long as we’re being honest,” I slide my shorts down along with my panties and wrap my legs around him. “I want this, right now, with you.”

  “Harper,” he groans, dropping his head in my neck.

  I boldly reach between us and untuck his cock from his shorts, running my thumb over the silkiness of the head.

  “It’s so soft.”

  He growls, ripping himself from my neck. “That’s not soft.”

  “No,” I giggle, stroking him lightly. “The skin is so soft. So silky,” I rasp out.

  “Great, you talk dirty too. Perfect,” he groans.

  “So hard. I want to taste this,” I play with the moisture at the tip.

  “Fuuuuuck, I may die.”

  “Lance, look at me.” He brings grey eyes to mine. “I want this inside of me, now.”

  “Harper, I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He reaches between us; stretching me, rubbing me, beckoning, playing me perfectly.

  “Would you rather it be someone else?”

  His whole body tenses, as my heart thunders. And that’s when I lose my breath. His fingers stop, his breath stutters before he brings answering eyes to mine. In them, I see jealousy, possession, and I take those seconds to enjoy them. His hungry mouth descends as we lose the rest of our clothing. Once bare, he sinks between my legs, his eyes roaming appreciatively down my body before he plants his forearms next to me and we lock gazes.

  “Sure?”

  I nod again, and he reaches for a condom in his bedside table.

  Once fitted, he slowly presses in, stealing my breath. Hands on his chest, I stare up at him breathing through the discomfort and nod my head. He presses in again, and white-hot pain sears through me as I arch off the bed into his chest. He holds me there, to him, his breaths ragged at my ear, I feel torn, I feel breakable, I feel precious to him. It burns, and I do my best to control my whimper.

  “I’m not really getting the fuss,” I joke stupidly before silvery eyes meet mine. And then he kisses me, so deeply that the burn fades briefly, the thrust of his tongue is hypnotizing. It’s everything, everything. I know I feel for him, it was inevitable, but the feeling that it’s fleeting has me hanging onto every second. I bat that thought away and let him kiss me, let him shower me with the affection I’ve been starving for.

  Because underneath him I feel perfect, not just adequate or passable.

  I feel precious.

  I feel beautiful.

  He gently presses me back into the pillow with his kiss, his hands pushing away my hair.

  “Tell me if it’s too much.”

  He gently rears back, and then it’s burning again. I don’t make a sound, I just stare up at him with parted lips, trying to soak in everything, the curve of his biceps, the strain in his chest, the longing in his eyes, his fast breaths, the way the sheet drapes over the curve of his ass.

  “Harper,” he whispers, gliding in and out easily now. The pain still lingers, but it’s the pulse at his neck I’m studying, the weight of him on top of me, I’m memorizing. Girl
s like me don’t often get to keep guys like Lance.

  I want to make that a lie. I want to believe we’re different. I want to believe that he’s capable of committing to me, of looking at me the same way for a thousand days to come, and a thousand days after. But I meant what I said. I won’t ever put my dreams on hold for any man, no matter how magnificent said man is.

  So, this is what obsession feels like.

  I’m smitten. Totally rapt, and I allow myself to warp and be shaped by it. It’s incredible and consuming. It’s everything I thought it would be.

  “Better?” He prompts, his thrusts picking up.

  “No, how are you doing?”

  His grin is misplaced in the moment due to my uncontrollable mouth, but beautiful, and I love the sight of it.

  “Fucking perfect.”

  “Should I be doing something here?”

  “Not this time,” he whispers through a pleasure-filled grunt.

  “I’ll improvise,” I wrap my legs around his back and squeeze his hips with my thighs.

  “Jesus, Harper,” he moans.

  “Ah, like that? You’re so simple, Prescott.”

  A chuckle escapes him as he speeds up. And then I feel it, something close to pleasure and a moan escapes me.

  “That’s it, baby,” he urges, his mouth hanging as he brands his touch to memory and burns his name across my heart. That term strikes me deep, and then I’m in a haze, drunk on his rhythm, soaking up the feel of his eyes hot on me.

  I’d be his personal whore to keep this feeling. No wonder women make this a bad habit. I can see the appeal.

  Moaning again, I thrust up to meet him and regret it because of the resulting pain, when he curses, drunk on pleasure.

  My moans spur him on as I tighten myself, wrapping around him and he loses control.

  He burns through me, knocking us both into orbit an inch past blissful oblivion, his eyes opening as if in shock as he convulses and pants out his orgasm. And then he’s kissing me, so long and so hard that I fight for breath. His lips cover every inch of my face, my neck, trailing down and laving one nipple then the other before he collapses in a heap on my stomach.

  A smile graces my lips as I stare at the blades of the fan on his ceiling.