Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
~MAC~
Ahand wraps around my waist and guides me backward against a hard body. His body feels like stone behind me. Every inch of him is toned and muscular, maybe from all the time he spent training and swimming. I whimper and reach back to run my hand along the small of his back.
“Mac,” he croons in my ear.
I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. The goose bumps take over as I shiver.
Danny brushes his lips down my neck and rests them on my shoulder.
His hand comes up and tugs the strap of my camisole down my shoulder.
It falls off easily as he places a few kisses on my skin.
I arch my back into him, needing him closer, needing him to touch me further.
I want his hands all over my body. I’m a ball of want and need and we’ve never even kissed.
There’s a pressure on my hip, and he spins me so I’m facing him.
His blue eyes are burning into mine. They look like sapphires shining in the dim lighting of my room.
Wasting no time, he roughly throws my body against his.
I moan at the contact. His lips come down on mine, biting and nipping until I grant him access.
He takes control of the kiss. There's no softness in it, but I don’t care. I need this.
I whimper into this mouth and claw at his back, trying to get him closer. He backs me up so we’re against my bedroom wall and moves my hands up over my head. Danny pulls back slightly and looks me in the eye. I can’t tell what he’s waiting for—permission or if he’s searching for something.
“Please,” I cry out, hoping that it’s permission that he’s seeking, because he’s got it.
He stares for a moment longer; his eyes are liquid, and his grip is strong on my wrists.
It’s biting, but I welcome the pain, along with the pleasure I’m anticipating.
Breaking eye contact, he lowers his head to my breast and bites at my nipple through the camisole.
I lift my hips, wishing he would provide some much-needed friction.
Instead, he chuckles and places his mouth on the opposite nipple.
I’m whimpering and moaning, and all he’s done is suckle and bite on my nipples.
I should be embarrassed by this, but I’m not.
It’s been a long time since a man has touched me with so much assurance and dominance. I welcome it; I need more of it.
“You are so greedy,” he tells me when I’ve opened my eyes. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m going to take care of you.”
I just nod. I’m at a loss for words as his hand travels along my hip and slowly dips into my sleep shorts. I jut out my hips, hoping it gets his hand where I need it sooner.
He moves dangerously slow down my thong before pushing it aside.
Danny’s eyes are locked on mine the whole time.
I want to look away, but I can’t; his stare is too intense.
The pace he’s working at is killing me. I need hard and fast right now, but he seems fully intent on torturing me before he gives me pleasure.
Fingertips run along the side of my thong, up and down. I wait for him to dive in, whimpering. I’m so wet, and he hasn’t even touched me yet. A finger lifts the seam of my thong. Continuing at his slow pace, he runs his finger along my folds. He arches an eyebrow as he hovers over my entrance.
“Yes,” I breathe out. I’m barely able to get the word from my lips before he pushes in. I cry out as he inserts two more fingers. The pumping begins, and at this rate, I’m not going to last long. I close my eyes as I take in the sensations he’s creating.
A loud beeping sound startles me, and my eyes snap open.
He’s gone.
I’m alone in my bed. And I’m sweaty.
It was a dream. He managed to invade my dreams.
“Son of a bitch,” I say as I work to get my breathing back to normal. “It was just a dream. He was touching me, and I liked it. He was here in my bed.” I’m trying to make sense of it.
I didn’t even see him yesterday. It was Sunday and I spent the whole day lounging around doing nothing. When I left the bar on Saturday night, I didn’t even look in his direction. I felt him watching me, but I made a point not to acknowledge him.
“Fuck, what in the hell was that?” I ask myself.
There was definitely something there that night. It was weird. I liked his attention, but it was probably just because it’s been a while since I’ve gotten any. And now I’m alone in my bed, frustrated and turned on from my dream.
I look over at the clock. I have some time before I actually have to get up. I reach into my bedside table and grab my BOB. It’s pink and has a lovely pulsating tentacle that hits the right spot on my clit. I slip it under the covers, twist it so it’s pulsating, and insert it slowly.
“Mmm,” I moan as it invades my wetness. It feels so good, and as I get ready to hit the button that makes the head spin, his face flashes in my mind.
He tells me again that I will beg him to touch me.
It irritates me. The feeling of arousal that lingered after my dream is gone, and now I’m just frustrated. I hate that he got into my head.
I pull BOB from my pussy and toss it onto the bedside table. That motherfucker managed to ruin masturbation for me.
Getting up, I ready myself for practice. Might as well take advantage of the extra time and get to the practice field early so that I can get some extra work in.
When I pull up at the field, I’m the only person there.
The rest of the team probably won’t arrive for another half hour.
Our practice field is separate from the game field.
It’s fenced off by a black eight-foot wrought-iron fence.
I put my four-digit code in, then make my way over to a bench. Lacing up my cleats, I sigh.
I’m home.
The soccer field has always calmed me. I love being out here, just me and the ball. I feel a strange sense of home when I’m on the turf.
I juggle the ball on each foot twenty times, switching and repeating the movement. I set up cones and dribble through them at different paces and patterns. Once that’s done, I move to the goal and smack a couple of shots in from various angles.
I feel a set of eyes on me and instantly know he’s there. My body recognizes him instantly, and it shouldn’t. I refuse to turn around and acknowledge him. I keep on running my own private practice until my teammates show up.
Coach approaches me when I take a break for water.
“Did you wanna wait for the rest of us?” he jokes.
I smile brightly at him. “Sorry, I just wanted to get some extra touches in before the rest of the team gets here.”
“You had a great game. There isn’t a reason to punish yourself, you know.”
“Oh, don’t look at it as punishment. I feel at home out here on the field,” I explain and flush at my own words. “You must think I’m sucking up to you or something.”
“No, I don’t.” He takes a step closer, and his voice gets quieter.
“I think you’re playing like you have something to prove.
I just wanted to make sure you know that you don’t.
You earned your spot on this team. You work harder than most. Don’t beat yourself up over something some arrogant reporter who’s never kicked a ball in his life said. He’s not worth it.”
I look over my shoulder and see Danny’s talking to August Cromwell.
“Figures they would know each other,” I mutter.
“Certainly does, doesn’t it?” Coach Watts replies. “He does this to get a rise out of you. I wouldn’t let him get under your skin.”
“I’ll try.”
“And try not launching any more balls at his head during this practice or any other games.”
“Sure thing, Coach.”
He shakes his head and chuckles. “Go take them on a run, please.”
I nod and head over to the team. “Alright, ladies, let’s get through some stretches. Coach wants us to go on a run.” Some of them groan. “Oh, come on, it’ll be great. Let’s go get a quick two miles in.”
“Only you would find two miles enjoyable and quick,” Cassidy says, shaking her head at me.
“What about goalies? Do I have to run it?” Hendrix asks me teasingly.
“You sure do, Henny,” I say. “Now let’s go.”
I start out leading with the other midfielders—Cassidy, Lola, and DJ. Cassidy keeps pace with me, while the rest of the team trails behind.
“Why are you running so fast today? Aren’t you at all tired or hung over from last night?” she whines, giving me the side-eye.
“No, I’m feeling good,” I sing to her, dropping my voice a few octaves.
“Your little friend is over there. Is that why you’re so chipper this morning?”
I sigh and look in his direction. “What is he doing here, and why is August Cromwell talking to him?”
“Maybe August is trying to put the fear of God into him.” Cassidy tries to sound hopeful.
But we both know that’s a lie. August wouldn’t lift a finger to help anyone, let alone one of us. Rumor is he’s mega-spoiled and doesn’t mind showing it.
“Let’s just focus on the run and practice,” I say. “We need to put some work in on those corner kicks. They were a bit sloppy last night.”
Cassidy nods, as she strides along beside me.
I have already messaged Coach Watts and Coach Chapman, asking them if we could work on them. Coach Watts said, ‘I’m way ahead of you.’”
Good he noticed how much they sucked too.
I’m breathing hard and sweating profusely when we finish practice. I note that Danny is still here while I wipe my face down with a towel. I really want to pull my tank top, which is clinging to me like a second skin, over my face, but I don’t want Danny to think I’m doing anything for him.
“Hey, Dixon, come over here, will ya?” August says, beckoning me with his hand.
I sigh and nod in his direction.
“Uh-oh, someone is going to the principal’s office,” Hendrix teases me.
“Fuck off, it’s not the principal’s office.
Plus, I didn’t do anything.” I’m not sure why I throw that out there.
I’m sure she knows I didn’t. I didn’t even look in his direction when I could feel him staring at me as I completed my foot-work drills, took my turn serving corners, and took shots to help warm up the goalies.
“Have fun. Want us to wait for you before heading over to Tropical Smoothie?” Cassidy pulls off her cleats and readies herself to leave.
My cleats are already off and I’m striding in Danny and August’s direction. “No, go on without me,” I call over my shoulder.
“You sure?” She calls out, and I wave a hand in her direction, indicating that I am.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Cromwell. What do I owe the honor of your visit all through our practice?” My tone is a bit snarky, but I’m pretty sure I can get away with it with August. He doesn’t really pay too much attention to anyone but himself.
He pulls his Ray Bans down and grins in my direction. “I see we still have our sassy pants on today.”
“Don’t know what you mean, sir.” I toss my long blonde braid over my shoulder.
“How are you doing today, Mackenzie?” Danny asks in his condescending tone.
“Sweating like a pig,” I throw back. “Would you like a hug?”
He shakes his head. Danny has on his own pair of Ray Bans, but I’m betting beneath them he’s rolling his eyes at me.
I pull out my water bottle and steal another swig of the cold liquid, hoping it cools me down.
It’s then that I take a look at Danny. He’s dressed casually today—a pair of gray Nike shorts, a black fitted T-shirt, and Hey Dudes on his feet.
Very comfy casual. Which could look frumpy, but on him, it’s effortlessly sexy.
I shake my head, and he snickers. I furrow my brow at him, confused. Is he in my head? Is that his superpower? Can he hear my thoughts?
“I really need a shower, so what’s up, guys?” I hope we can get to the point, and I can get on with my day.
“Let’s go up to my dad’s office.”
“Why?” I challenge August.
“Just follow me,” August tosses over his shoulder as he makes his way across the street to the offices for the Blast executives.
“Better do what the boss says,” Danny teases as he gestures for me to follow next.
I’m seething. I feel like I’m being set up for something and I hate it.