Chapter 7
Casey
I know I’m right. She is flirting with me.
Real hard.
And it’s working.
I grip the hem of my black T-shirt and slowly lift it over my head. Her eyes sweep across my chest, and she quickly looks past my body, but it’s too late. I saw the spark in her eyes.
Her fingertips are cool to the touch, and her nails dig into my flesh as she prods my shoulder.
When she presses on a particular tender spot, I flinch.
“Does that hurt?”
“A little. But only when you press on it.”
She purses her lips and furrows her brow. “Did you have an ultrasound done?”
“Yes. They did a bunch of tests.”
“And what did they find?”
“A small tear, but with time, it’ll heal.”
“If not, then you’ll need surgery to repair it.”
“Yes.”
But that’s not an option. Surgery would mean I’d be out for most, if not all, of the season. And I can’t risk that this year, not when I’ll be a free agent and set to make the biggest deal of my career. I’ve worked too damn hard to be in this position.
“Can you lift your arm for me?”
I raise my elbow, and she moves her hand to the front of my shoulder, pressing the space between my shoulder and my pectoral muscle. “Does this hurt?”
“No.”
She presses deeper into the muscle tissue.
I’ve no idea why she’s pressing there when my injury is further away. She massages the area, and as she leans forward to press deeper, a strand of her hair lightly brushes against my chest, directly over my nipple. It hardens immediately and my dick stirs to life.
“Hold on a second. I’ll be right back.” A cool breeze wafts across my skin as she rushes to a bookshelf, and the distance offers me some relief. She opens a box and pulls out a small bottle. “It’s peppermint. It’ll help with the inflammation.”
I’ve taken several over the counter meds to help with the inflammation. But I stay quiet because I’m not stupid. I’m pretty sure she’s going to massage that oil onto my body and just the thought of it makes me want to growl.
“Lay down on your stomach, if that’s okay.”
It’s more than okay, but again, I stay quiet.
Sage’s bracelets jangle and she removes them. “Sorry. I forget they’re there.”
She drops them on the coffee table and rubs the oil all over her hands. Then, she places her hands on my back. Surprisingly, they’re warm, and her fingers massage the oil deep into my shoulder blade.
I groan. I can’t help it. It feels so damn good.
She works her way up to the top of my shoulder and uses her thumbs to knead the knots just beside my neck.
My eyes roll to the back of my head, and I bite my lips to keep myself from moaning.
“You’re really tight.”
“I know.”
She chuckles. “That isn’t a compliment.”
“I know,” I mumble into her couch cushions.
I’ve officially lost my ability to think and hold a conversation. The only thing that is running through my mind is: Don’t stop. Please God, don’t let her stop.
“Do you mind if I move on to your other shoulder? It would just be more balanced that way.”
“I don’t mind at all,” I say through the fabric.
She pulls her hands away and rubs more oil onto them.
The minty fragrance clears my airways, and I breathe easier.
Or perhaps it’s because my muscles feel loose.
I’m not sure but my back and neck feel really good as she presses her hands into my upper shoulders and smooths out the knots and tension I’ve been holding on to.
This isn’t a quick massage either. She works her way down my back and over my arms. She takes her time, ensuring that she addresses every tightness she encounters. She even works on my glutes.
“Can you turn over? I want to massage the front part of the shoulder. It’s important to get to the muscle from all sides.”
I’ve no idea what she’s talking about, but I flip onto my back before she finishes that sentence. She places her left knee beside me as she struggles to find a spot on the couch. Finally, she moves to kneel on the floor.
“No. You shouldn’t be on your knees.”
“It’s fine. There’s no room on the couch.”
“Sit on me.”
Her eyes hold mine and I try to hide the heat behind them but she’s no fool. I want her but I won’t touch her. Not yet.
“I’ll keep my hands to myself. I promise.”
She eyes me skeptically. She has every right to be cautious since it’s taking all my self-control right now not to pull her down on top of me. But I’m not a pig. I take a deep breath, trying to cool the rising heat in my veins.
She cautiously sits on my upper thighs. “Am I hurting you?”
“No.”
She leans forward and reaches for the top of my shoulder but comes up short. Scooching up, she stretches her arms but she’s still several inches away. “Don’t worry. You won’t hurt me.”
She raises her hips until she can finally reach the spot and presses her fingers into the space between my pectoral muscle and my shoulder.
She’s hovering over my lap, and I know this can’t be comfortable for her.
But I keep my hands by my side instead of placing them around her waist as I want to do.
As she works her fingers along the front of my shoulder and top of my chest, her body falls closer to mine until her bum lightly brushes against my crotch. It’s the slightest touch but it’s enough to send tingles down my shaft.
“I… uh… I should get off,” she says, but makes no effort to remove herself.
Slowly, giving her time to jump out of my reach, I circle my hands around her hips. “Please. Don’t stop,” I say, and look for any sign on her face that she’s uncomfortable.
She stares at me and licks her lips. I think she’s about to stand up, but she sinks further into me.
As she massages deeper, her body falls, and she’s rocking back and forth above my groin.
Ringlets of hair fall over my arms, and I close my eyes so that the image of her riding me isn’t so fucking tempting.
Her movements are purposeful and I no longer feel her hands on my shoulder because all feeling has rushed to body parts inside my jeans.
Her body, warm and soft, presses against me and my dick rises to the occasion. Surely she can feel me, but she hasn’t said anything or flung herself off me in an outrage. Her fingers press into my muscle, but her lower body moves rapidly and rhythmically as though…
A small moan echoes in the room and it’s not mine.
My eyes burst open, and Sage is riding me with her eyes shut and her head thrown back.
Her leg shakes and I press my fingers around her thigh.
The muscle tightens as she uses the couch for leverage.
Her breathing is erratic and even though we are both still half-dressed I think she’s about to come.
Biting my lip to keep my hands from ripping off her clothes and mine, I hold still.
As her body moves tumultuously over mine, her hands drop to my chest. I groan when her fingers brush my nipple. Unconsciously, my hips rise to meet her, pressing my dick between her thighs. Her tights provide little barrier between our bodies, and I can feel her bud between the fabric.
I lick my lips when her nipples pucker through her thin tube top. She’s not wearing a bra. Oh, for fuck’s sake, she’s not playing fair.
“I need to touch you,” I say. And she nods. Without opening her eyes, she grabs my hands and pulls them to her breasts, cupping my hands over her pert nipples.
I massage her softly, rubbing my thumbs over the rigid peaks and they tighten beneath my fingers.
I didn’t bring a condom. As much as I was hoping this would happen, I didn’t think it would. And I’m not stopping to ask her for one. She’s so damn close, but her face is in agony. She can’t come. Not like this.
Sliding my hand inside her tights, I find her wet beneath my fingers. It’s enough to make my entrance easier and I push her into such a frenzy that she gasps for breath as she rides my hand.
I lick her nipple through the fabric until she pulls away frustrated and then pulls down her tube top. I smile as I take the raspberry-like nipple between my teeth and lightly bite.
She gasps and pulls my hair. It hurts, but it makes me even harder. “Fuck,” I curse, under my breath.
“Yes,” she whispers as her pussy opens beneath my fingers. I slide my middle finger back until I’m inside of her and rub the spot I know will make her come.
I find it easily and she arches her back, panting and moaning. I press firmly, and her clit turns rigid. Tossing back her hair, she screams—coming hard and loud all over my hand.
Fucking beautiful.
Her pussy keeps spasming over my fingers and she pulls away. “Oh my God,” she whispers. Though she keeps her eyes closed, she covers them with her arm anyway. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
I smile. “You came beautifully. I want you to come again.” She drops her arm, and opens her eyes, staring at me skeptically. Then her gaze falls to the bulge in my pants, and my dick grows harder at her inspection.
“Wait here,” she says and then scurries off my lap. She raises her top as she jogs down the hallway.
In the silence of her house, my phone rings and it startles me. I’d forgotten about the outside world. But at that moment, Sage returns with a condom in her hand and I don’t give a shit who’s calling right now, I’m not going to answer it.
“Was that a phone?” she asks, looking around the room.
“Yeah, it was mine. Just ignore it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
She smiles but then the smile wavers when another phone rings. Although I’m not sure it’s a phone at first because it’s not exactly a ringtone but a duck quacking.
Who would choose that as their ringtone?
“Shit. That’s my phone.”
“Just ignore it.”
She looks toward the kitchen counter conflicted. Biting her lips, she looks at me and then looks at the phone. “I normally would. But that’s got to be more than a coincidence. I’m going to check the number.”
She jogs to the kitchen and turns to me as soon as she sees the caller I.D. “It’s Austin.”
Sitting up, I grab my phone from the coffee table. Opening the screen, I have a missed call from my brother. “You better answer it.”