20. Joey
20
Joey
M onday morning brings an end to our magical interlude. I’ll return to being a regular working girl who lives in an apartment barely the size of Brent’s bedroom and takes public transportation to get around. Even my ride back will revert to a pumpkin, if you could call a first-class seat on a commercial flight a pumpkin. He insisted on buying my return ticket when I told him I couldn’t stay any longer. I’d already taken a sick day—something I rarely do even when I am sick.
Brent is continuing on to Los Angeles for his meetings. I have no idea what will happen when he comes back. He’s done what I asked of him. I’m no longer a virgin, and it couldn’t have been more perfect—better than my fantasies.
But now what? He’ll go on with his life as if it’s no big deal. He sleeps with women all the time, but I don’t know if I’m ready to be with another man.
Not wanting to think about it, I use the trick my therapist taught me. Focus on the present. And the present is still pretty fantastic since his big, hard body is wrapped around mine while he continues to sleep peacefully.
I sigh in contentment against his broad chest and savor being held by him. Knowing it’s the last time I’ll be in his arms like this, I let my hand drift over his shoulder, down his back, around to his chest…
He stirs against me. Every part of him. He massages my behind while his lips press kisses on my bare shoulder. When my hand roams lower, he reaches down to stop me.
“Not yet,” he mutters, kissing me, softly at first, then deeper. He brings my leg over his hip so his hand can reach between us. He lowers his mouth to my breasts while his fingers work their magic between my legs. My body heats as the touch of his tongue and teeth and fingers on my most sensitive parts stokes my desire, higher and higher, until I come apart with a little scream and his name on my lips.
He eases me down with tender kisses, his touch gentle even as my insides still ripple with pleasure. When I can breathe and think again, I push him onto his back and straddle him, surprising him.
“Good morning.” Brent moves my hair aside to place a kiss on my shoulder and smooths one large, warm palm down my back.
“Mmm.” I kiss his jaw. “Good morning.” Is that husky, sultry voice mine?
I explore his body, running my hands and mouth over, across, and down his torso, kissing, nipping, and licking. I revel in his groans and words of praise even as I fight my natural self- consciousness. I lose the battle to play it cool when I approach the final descent.
I giggle. I bite my lip to stop another one from escaping, but it’s too late.
He leans up on his elbows. “What?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry,” I assure him. And giggle again. I sit back on his thighs.
“Baby, I’ve got a lot of self-confidence, but keep laughing like that and it is going to wilt soon. So to speak. And if that happens, we’re not going to be able to finish this morning.”
I’m full-on laughing now, though I cover my mouth with both hands.
“I love your laugh.”
His words have the immediate effect of silencing me. I bite my lip and blush. I’m sitting on him, completely exposed. I stop my hands from covering my breasts in reflex, but I make a move to slide off. He holds me in place with his hands on my waist.
“Uh-uh-uh. Stay right there.”
“Brent,” I protest.
“Feeling uncomfortable? You’re the one that laughed at the Big Guy,” he says in mock indignation.
I snicker. “Big Guy?”
He grins. “Do you disagree with the description? Now tell me what was so funny.”
I duck my face in embarrassment. “I was wondering how I’m supposed to refer to your…Big Guy…and remembering how Charlie and I used to laugh hysterically at the euphemisms in the old romance novels your mom used to read.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
Shaking my head, I say, “No way. I’m not saying them out loud. They’re ridiculous.”
“Come on, tell me. Just one,” he cajoles.
I rack my head for the least ludicrous of them, but they’re all equally lame. I pick one just so I can get off him and not be so exposed.
“Okay.” I bite my lip, then blurt out the least harmless one I can think of. “Member.”
He tilts his head in confusion. “Member? I don’t understand. I’m sorry, you’re going to have to put that into a sentence for me.”
I suspect he’s pulling my leg, but I try to come up with something. “She felt his…his…hard member against her…” I can’t continue.
“Against her dewy flower of womanhood,” he finishes for me.
My jaw drops. I gape at him until it sinks in what he did.
“You…You rat! You played me!”
He bursts into laughter and pulls me down, rolls me under him, and kisses me between his chuckles. I keep my lips pressed together in defiance, but I can’t hold out against him.
“I can teach you some modern words, if you’d like.”
“No, thank you,” I say primly. I read all kinds of romance novels, so I’m aware of what they are.
“Come on. Just one,” he cajoles. “Say ‘cock.’ As in, ‘she stroked his—’”
I reach for his…manhood, and his words turn into a gasp.
“How about I demonstrate instead?” I ask, my inner vixen making an appearance.
He turns serious very quickly.
I push on his chest, but he’s too heavy for me to roll him off me. “Lie back.”
When he does as I demand, I sprawl on top of him, kissing my way down his body again. I press my mouth against his ripped abs, giving in to the urge to bite the muscled flesh. His hand cups the back of my head, tangling into my hair. I look up at him when he groans. He’s squeezed his eyes shut, his other hand fisted against his mouth. He wants more but won’t ask it of me.
Maybe that’s what makes me bold enough to offer it to him, to give him the same pleasure he’s given me several times this weekend. I take him in my hands, stroking, kissing, licking. From my periphery, I see his hand grab the sheets, the veins in his forearm popping as his fingers clench into a fist.
I have no clue if I’m doing it right, but from the groans and soft curses coming from Brent, it must be adequate, so I continue.
“Enough!” He drags me up his body and rolls on a condom he’s already unwrapped. He guides me over him, and I sink onto him until he’s completely seated inside me. I gasp at the fullness. Big Guy is appropriately named.
“Ride me, baby.”
With his hands on my hips, he shows me how to move. It feels different this way, being in control. I savor the fullness, find the angle that fits just right. He allows me to move on my own and takes my breasts, reaching up to kiss and touch them while my rhythm speeds up. It’s all heat and sensation rising within me until he takes over, hands on my behind, his pace urgent.
“Come on, baby. I’m so close,” Brent says in a hoarse whisper.
I tense, my body reaching for that peak. Suddenly I’m flying as he thrusts hard one last time and holds himself deep. I feel him pulsing as he empties himself, my own convulsions greedily clenching around him. Once I finish shuddering in ecstasy, I collapse against him. His arms wrap around me, holding me against his chest as we catch our breath.
“As much as I’d love to stay in bed with you all day, we both need to get going.”
I reluctantly untangle myself from him and slide off to lie next to him, remaining on my stomach since the sheets are tangled beneath us. Willing myself not to blush, I look at him to find him facing me, his head resting on his palm. God, he’s incredibly sexy, even more so with the morning stubble. His eyes are more blue than gray. I notice they change colors depending on his mood. Gray when he’s serious or angry, bright blue when he’s burning with lust, and somewhere in between when he’s in a lighter mood.
His hand is still on my hip, as if he can’t stop touching me. I don’t want to stop touching him either. I’d much rather nestle into him, hold him tightly, and kiss him until we’re both breathless. I want to tell him we should continue our relationship, be a real couple, because I can’t bear to think I’ll never have this with him again. Or that he’ll be experiencing this with some other woman soon. But I remind myself to keep things light.
Shaking off my thoughts, I smile at him. “Hard to believe you were a scrawny beanpole when we first met. How did you go from that to being this huge football star, business mogul, and TV celebrity? It seems like every time I turn around, you’re endorsing something.” I shake my head in mocking disbelief.
“I was never scrawny, you brat.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. He slaps me lightly on my thigh and rolls over to sit on the edge of the bed. While his back is turned, I take the opportunity to sit up, pulling the sheet to my chin.
“Okay, maybe when I was twelve. But I’m hardly a star or a mogul. And celebrity’s relative. Only people who follow football recognize me. But I’ll admit to taking advantage of the endorsements while I can because one bad season and it all goes away.”
I barely register his words, too focused on the fine specimen of masculinity that is before me. I covertly check to make sure I’m not drooling and have to resist reaching out to touch that golden tanned skin. His shoulders are so wide, his waist narrow—the perfect V shape. And he’s so powerfully built. The muscles on his back ripple as he takes care of the condom, then puts on his boxers. When he stands up to pull them on the rest of the way, I get a quick view of his very fine, taut buttocks. He leans over to pick up the rest of his clothes, and I give in to the urge to reach out to touch him. When he abruptly straightens and turns, I withdraw my hand quickly, narrowly missing touching a prominent body part.
The view in front is even better. I have a thing for broad chests and strong arms and huge, cut biceps and…Okay, I have a thing for Brent’s entire body. When he grins at me, I sigh to myself. Who am I kidding? I have a thing for Brent, period.
“See something you like?”
“What’s not to like?” I respond with honesty, despite the flush warming my cheeks.
“And I do have some standards,” he continues. “You should see some of the crap I’m asked to endorse.
“Mm-hm.” What was he talking about? Oh yeah. Endorsements. “What did your mom say about the underwear campaign?”
“Nothing after I told her it was that or condoms.” He grins.
I laugh. “I used to wonder if the, um, package was enhanced for those photos.”
“Well, now you know. No enhancements required.”
My blush deepens at his smug expression.
His gaze roves over me. “Damn, I wish we could stay here the entire week.”
My heart skips a beat at his words and the look in his eyes, but my mind tries not to read too much into it. I wish our time together didn’t have to end, either. I remind myself that’s not exactly what he said.
The fairy-tale time with Brent is over. It was better than anything I’d ever imagined. Grateful, I kneel on the bed, holding the sheet in front of me with one hand, to run my palm against his stubbled jaw and press a quick kiss at the corner of his mouth.
“Thank you, Brent, for an amazing weekend.”