Quitting the Quarterback (The Nash Brothers #4)

CHAPTER 10 Cassie Fields

Foreplay Was Really Never My Thing

I have to be honest here.

Foreplay was really never my thing.

I just simply don’t have time for it—or maybe it’s that my ex wasn’t all that good at it.

We had a few minutes of moaning, and that was the end.

It wasn’t always like that. When we were younger, we did all the things. I guess I figured it was the evolution of a relationship. At some point, you have kids and then you’re just plain tired by the end of the day, so you forgo foreplay in exchange for an extra hour of sleep.

But this foreplay with this man?

I’ll never sleep again if it means I can take and deliver pleasure like this .

I didn’t know this sort of thing actually existed. I thought it was relegated to movies or books—or really good porn.

But he’s good. Really good. Outstanding. So good, in fact, that where the events that led us here would’ve put me to sleep in the past, right now all I can think about is having sex with him, of feeling him moving inside of me while we each take and give more pleasure, of him kissing me and touching me again. It’s addictive. He is addictive—and that’s a pretty damn scary thought since this is only supposed to be for tonight.

And based on the way his skilled hands and mouth worked my body, I can only imagine how good he is with his dick.

I don’t know who I am right now. I’ve never, not once in my life, told a man that I need to feel him inside of me, but something about Grayson Nash has me transfixed. I’m a new person, and maybe this is who I was always meant to be.

It’s an incredibly freeing feeling. He doesn’t know me, and I don’t know him, and we can return to our lives with the memory of tonight.

I shift so I’m straddling him around his thighs, and I reach for his cock. I fist it and slide my hand up and down a few times to make sure he’s ready for me, and his eyes heat up at the feel of my palm on his skin.

I tear open the condom wrapper and slide it down his cock, and he watches me carefully while I work. I’m about to shift upward so I can slide down onto him when he takes control. He sits up, reaching around my waist for me, and we’re face-to-face. He leans up to catch my lips with his, and he kisses the hell out of me, which has the effect of unbearably intensifying the needy ache between my legs.

I feel like an animal as I try to move to get some friction between us, but he’s in control now, holding me just out of reach. His mouth curls into a sly smile on mine, and I can tell he likes this. He likes seeing me desperate. He wants to make me beg.

And I will if I have to.

I claw at his back as I deepen the kiss, and he lets out a low groan as I try to move over him again. Instead, he shifts us completely so I’m suddenly pinned beneath him, and his mouth falls to my neck.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he demands, his deep voice low and hot near my ear.

I like that he tells me what to do. I’m tired of making every decision in my life for myself and my children. There’s something thrilling about having someone like him take charge.

“So bad,” I moan, and I arch my back as my hips seek out his.

He thrusts toward me, and I feel his cock as it settles near my entrance—near it, but not in it. Not where I need it.

He nibbles at my neck, and my skin feels like it’s on fire as I wait for him to push in. I shift my hips again, arching toward him as I try to get him in.

“Mm, she’s getting more and more desperate,” he says calmly to himself, and I don’t know how he can be so damn calm when I’m in a frenzy of need over here.

I’m writhing beneath him, and he’s taking his time, slow and steady. It’s how I’d picture him on the football field, I suppose, if I knew anything about football. It’s as if he’s choosing his moment, disciplined and practiced, and I’m a moaning, wet, needy mess as I wait for him.

I clutch the sheets with both hands as the ache between my legs throbs in time with my racing heart.

I wrap my legs around him as I try to pull his body into mine. “Do it,” I demand. “Give it to me.” I think about saying his name as I demand what I want from him, but something stops me. “Please,” I beg, whimpering at the end, a stark portrayal of my mental turmoil as I go from insisting to pleading.

“Give what to you?” he teases.

“Your cock,” I beg in a whisper, not used to this sort of dirty talk but finding that it’s a total, extreme turn on as that ache grows still more violent. “Give it all to me.”

“Where do you want it? I rather liked it in your mouth before…”

“Oh my God, please, please fuck me. Fuck me deep and hard until I can’t see straight.”

He growls before he rears back and grips himself in his fist, and his mouth crashes to mine at the same time his cock slams into me.

I moan into his mouth as he kisses me while he fucks me, and I find all I can really do is hold on for the ride. I cling on around his neck as I wrap my legs around his waist, our tongues battering together brutally as I think I start to see stars. The sexy scruff of his jawline rubs my mouth raw, and I’ve never experienced a more delicious, beautiful, sublime connection with another human before.

It’s hot and carnal as he slams into me over and over, his athletic skills evident from both his rhythm and his stamina.

My God, it’s incredible.

His eyes fall to mine, and a hot, intimate moment passes between us. It’s downright erotic. It’s totally unexpected as he moves inside of me, and I have a feeling this is the singular moment I’ll think about when I think about this night. His eyes on mine.

He slows his strokes, and that’s just as incredible as the fast ones. And then he pulls out, flips me over, and raises my hips into the air. “Palms on the headboard,” he demands, and I do as I’m told because I’m afraid if I don’t, the pleasure will stop, and I never want it to stop.

“Good girl,” he says as he slides a finger into me from behind.

I’ve never been called that before, and something about it is hot as hell. It makes me want to do more things to hear more words of praise from him, and I give him a soft moan to let him know I liked it .

My hips sway in time with his hand for a few glorious seconds, and then he removes his hand and slides his cock back into me. It’s a new angle, one that feels just as incredible as the last, and he reaches around me to grab one of my tits in one hand while the other moves down to stroke my clit.

I’m going to fall apart. I’m going to come for days if he keeps this up. I can’t hold it together as I slam my hips back against him. He’s tweaking a nipple and stroking my clit and driving into me over and over, and I feel it building as he drops his lips to my neck. He kisses me sweetly there, a heady contrast to what he’s doing to my body, and then he starts in again with the dirty talk.

“Your cunt feels like it was made for my cock, Cass,” he grunts. “Like you were waiting for tonight to give me all your come.”

“I was,” I cry. What the hell did I just say? I didn’t even know who this guy was until a couple of hours ago, but maybe I was saving it all for him. I don’t get in my head about it, though—instead, I just enjoy every second of this wild ride.

“That’s right you were. I love how your sweet cunt is gripping my cock like you never want to let it go.”

What the hell did he just say? Am I really doing that? Because I feel that way. I don’t ever want this pleasure to stop. I don’t ever want to leave this moment with him. I feel like my true, authentic, honest self for the first time in…

In eighteen years.

It’s a thrilling realization to have as a total stranger drives into me in this Vegas hotel room.

“Oh God!” I cry, and that’s when my body explodes over him.

I drop my hands from the headboard because I physically can no longer hold myself up as my body betrays me, and he continues pushing into me and touching me and kissing me as my body pulses all around him.

As I start to come down from that intense high, he slows his thrusts, and eventually he pulls out.

But he’s not done yet, and even though I’m depleted and totally satisfied, I’m not stopping until he gets to come, too.

I roll over, and his eyes meet mine.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Mm,” I say with a lazy smile. “I’m better than okay. Now get back inside and finish what you started.”

He grins as he climbs off the bed, and he grabs my legs and pulls me to the edge. He rests my ankles near his shoulders as he slides into me, and he moves slowly, giving my body time to adjust to more pleasure than I’ve ever experienced in a single night.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he says as he looks down at my body.

I try to believe his words. I try not to feel intimidated by them or like it’s a lie. I’m not as firm as I was twenty years ago and two kids ago. I’ve worked my ass off to attempt to firm up again, but I still have the zones with imperfections—usually the only zones I see when I look in the mirror.

But when he’s looking at me the way he is, I feel gorgeous. It doesn’t feel like they’re just words he’s saying. It feels like he means them, and I want to believe him because he says them so convincingly, so honestly.

“Me?” I tease. “Have you looked in a mirror recently?”

He chuckles, and I’m not sure I’ve ever actually teased someone while they were inside me.

“What’s the most you’ve ever come in a single night?” he asks.

“Counting tonight? Twice. ”

Surprise flashes in his eyes. “You’ve never come more than once in a night?”

I shake my head.

He splits my legs to the sides and leans forward, still filling me completely as he slows his moves. His face fills my vision, and I memorize it all for a beat.

Gorgeous blue eyes that are currently slate as they search mine. Full lips that know what I taste like. Dark hair that’s messy from sex. Scruff on his jawline that scratched my thighs. The little scar on his chin, the straight nose despite probably taking hit after hit with the sport he plays for a living.

It feels like a dream.

“Let’s see how high we can go.”

He gives me another one before he can’t hold on any longer, and we’re both too exhausted for another round. I’m sure I’ll regret having fallen asleep and wasting the time that could have been spent with him, but right now, we both need rest.

When morning dawns, I wake with a start. I’m disoriented for a second before it all comes rushing back to me, and I glance beside me as I stretch only to find the other side of the bed empty.

“Grayson?” I call out, and there’s no answer.

I realize I’m naked, and I grab the blanket off the bed and wrap it around me as I pad through the suite looking for my date from last night.

The room is empty, and I guess that’s how this works. The man ducks out so he doesn’t have to face his regret the morning after.

It’s a shame, but I guess that’s what a hot Vegas hookup is all about.

I drop the blanket from around my waist and find my dress balled on the floor. Sorry, Jess . I slowly shimmy back into it, and it doesn’t look wholly destroyed .

I should shower. I should change clothes. I should’ve worn panties.

Hindsight tells me a lot of things I probably should have done differently, but I refuse to leave this place with regrets. Last night was magical and amazing, and him not being here just makes leaving all the easier.

I still get to take all the things he gave me last night along with me. Him not being here this morning doesn’t change the fact that for one night, I felt sexy and valued. I learned a lot about myself, and nobody can take that away.

Even if I feel a little cheap this morning.

I use the bathroom, and I think about leaving a note, but ultimately I decide against it. What would I say, anyway? Thanks for a fun time? Peach and green flowers will always remind me of you? And chicken tenders with honey mustard and blue eyes and multiple orgasms in one night?

No. That doesn’t sound like something a thirty-six-year-old woman would ever say, let alone leave on a note for evidence.

I don’t feel thirty-six this morning, though my muscles are deliciously achy. I feel refreshed and revived and single .

I finish up in the bathroom and head toward the door to leave this room, but it opens before I get to it.

And there stands my hot hookup…with a coffee cup in one hand and a bag in the other.

“PSL for the lady,” he says, handing the cup over to me.

“PSL?” I repeat, and I glance at the side of the cup. Cassie. Pumpkin Spice Latte. “But it’s July. They usually don’t even carry the pumpkin stuff for another month, month and a half at the earliest.”

He raises a brow and shoots me a cheesy wink. “I guess it pays to know people in the right places.”

“Or it pays to be a professional athlete.” I purse my lips.

“That too. ”

I lift a chin toward the bag. “What’s in the bag?”

“I thought you might be hungry after all the, uh, working out we did last night, so I got some food.” He walks over to the table set in front of the windows, and I follow him over. He pulls a couple of muffins and some of those little egg bite things out of the bag, and he nods toward the food. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks for this,” I say, holding up my coffee. “That was really sweet of you.”

He ducks his head a little. “No problem.” He seems almost embarrassed by my words as we both dig into the food. I wasn’t expecting breakfast out of this deal, but I’m loving the extra time we’re sharing.

“So you really never had more than one in a night?” he asks as if he’s been thinking about it since I said it.

I laugh as I shake my head. “I really never did.”

“Whoever you were with before me was a loser, then.” He fixes his eyes down on the fountains below. It’s quiet down there with little movement on the sidewalk, and the fountains haven’t started yet. He seems almost wistful as he stares out there, and I can’t help but wonder why.

“Tell me about it.”

He chuckles, but he’s quiet.

“I’d ask about your history, but I’m not sure I want to know.” I wrinkle my nose.

His eyes have a touch of merriment in them when they meet mine. “Why not?”

“I don’t want to picture you with other women. Last night felt so…” I trail off as I search for the right word.

“Intimate?” he guesses.

“Yeah.” I nod. “Intimate. I feel like maybe you opened some things that had been locked up for a while.”

“I think you might’ve done that for me, too. ”

I’m surprised by that. He seems so much more experienced than me even though he’s younger than me.

I want to ask what those things were, but despite the intimacy we shared, it feels almost too private to ask. If I’m meant to know, I guess I’ll find out someday.

But I don’t want to push. I don’t want to be the desperate lady who’s never done the one-night stand thing. I don’t know how to act in this situation at all, and as much as I want to leave my number, I don’t think a hot young football player like him wants to get tangled up with a mom who’s a recent divorcée reentering the workforce after a decade out of it.

There’s too much going on at home right now for me to even consider something beyond the one night we shared, and he’s about to start a new season anyway.

As if he can read my internal struggle, the next words he speaks take me by complete and utter surprise.

“I want to see you again.”

“You mean like…tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I have plans tonight, but maybe next week.”

I gasp the kind of gasp that’s not very ladylike as I inhale a bit of my PSL, and I start coughing as I futilely try to get it down the right tube to no avail.

Next week?

He doesn’t even know where I live. We haven’t gotten into that sort of discussion with each other.

Is he just…going to fly out to San Diego and take me on a date? Meet my kids? Insert himself into my life?

It sounds lovely, but it also sounds completely and wholly unrealistic.

“You okay?” he asks, alarmed, and I nod .

I chug a few more sips as I try to calm the coughing. “Sorry,” I croak. I clear my throat. “That just took me by surprise. I’d love to, really, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” he asks, clearly affronted as his tone is almost cocky.

“I just got my final divorce papers a couple days ago. I’ve got a whole life I have to get back to on Monday, you know?” I try to let him down gently even though I’m positive he’s just being nice.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, and he seems melancholy about my answer. It has to be an act, right? We just met. He probably has a woman like me in every city, and he probably uses these exact same lines on all of them.

“You’re amazing, and I had an incredible night with you,” I say. “But we both know what it was.”

“Right. Yeah, exactly.” He presses his lips together and nods.

“I guess I should get going.” I stand, and I grab my coffee since I’ve only had about half of it. I pick up my purse that’s still sitting on this table. I realize for the first time I haven’t checked my phone. I probably have a message from the kids, or maybe one from Jess.

I guess it’s time to get back to reality.

“Of course.” He lifts to a stand and walks me to the door, and I set my hand on the handle and turn around to face him.

He’s close. Too close. He boxes me in against the door. “I had a great time with you, Cass.”

“I had a great time, too, G—”

He cuts me off as he presses his lips to mine, and it’s the sort of kiss I could stay in forever. I don’t, though. I have to get back to my friends, and he has to get back to his life.

“I’ll never forget last night,” I whisper when he finally pulls back .

“Neither will I,” he says, and then he backs up so I can open the door.

I clear my throat, which suddenly feels clogged with emotion. “Well, bye.”

“Bye,” he echoes, and I walk through the door.

“Wait,” he says as I move to start the walk down the hall.

I turn back toward him, and he heads into the suite. I hold onto the door, and he comes back a few seconds later. He hands me a piece of paper, and it has a phone number written on it.

He clears his throat, and his eyes don’t meet mine as he sheepishly says, “Just in case you change your mind.”

I close my hand around the paper, and he leans in for one final kiss.

I breathe him in one final time, and then I head down the hall without looking back as I remind myself that a hot hookup is meant to be left behind.