Forward Passes (Seattle Lumberjacks) (10 page)

“In what way?”

“Gives me more options. Stick around, honey. You’ll find out.” He fingered the little gold barbells running through each nipple. Lowering his head, he sucked a nipple into his sinful mouth. His tongue played with the little bar piercing her nipple. He tantalized and teased, sucking then licking with light little nips. Holding her creamy skin of her breast between his teeth, he drew it inside and left a small horizontal red mark on the flesh next to one nipple. She moaned and squirmed on the seat as he demonstrated his talents went beyond football. She’d had quite a few lovers, and some were extremely competent. Tyler sucked tit like no man she’d ever been with.

Lavender threw her head back against the headrest and uttered a low groan. She couldn’t take much more of this or she blow apart, bones and all, until nothing remained but a quivering mass of lust. She wanted their first orgasm to happen with him inside her, despite the obvious fact he could make her come with just his mouth on her breasts.

“Please. Tyler, I don’t want to come like this our first time. I want you inside me when I come. Take me. Hard. The harder the better.” She tilted her head downward and rubbed her chin across his short, dark hair. He angled his head to toy with her other nipple. She took advantage and nipped his earlobe.

Tyler growled, a low, guttural cave-man type growl. “The first time? You’re admitting there will be more than one time?” He drew back and studied her face. His blue eyes sparkled with lust and pure pleasure.

Oh, crap. She’d blown her cover, but at this point in time, she didn’t give a shit. “I bet there’ll be more than one time tonight alone.”

He nodded, hesitated, and frowned for a moment. “You do hate me, right?”

“I love your body. I just can’t stand your mind, what there is of it.”

An unmistakable pained expression darkened his features for a moment. It disappeared so fast, she swore she imagined it. Puzzled, she searched his eyes but saw nothing but lust.

“I want to make sure you understand this is about screwing. Nothing else. I don’t do relationships.”

Ah, that explained it. The jock didn’t want her falling for him. “Haven’t you been listening? I can’t stand you. Even if I liked your mind and stellar personality, I don’t do emotional relationships with any man. This is sex, pure, wild, headboard slamming sex. Since neither one of us can stomach the other, it’ll be nice, safe sex with no strings.”

“Nice? There won’t be anything
nice
about it.
Do
you do this often?” He frowned, almost as if he gave a shit about the answer.

“Not as often as you.” She slipped her hands under his T-shirt and felt him up, delighting in the rock-hard planes of his muscles and rough texture of his chest hair.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Honey, no one does it as often as me.”

“I hope you practice safe sex.”

He reached in his pocket and whipped out a condom, holding it up for her to see. “Never leave home without them.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“It shouldn’t. As you take every opportunity to remind me, I’m a dumb jock, and we walk around with our dicks hanging out all the time in a perpetual state of horniness.”

“That about says it.” She shook off a twinge of remorse. Something in his tone troubled her, almost as if she’d hurt him with her callous declarations about his kind.

Slipping the condom into the seatback pocket, he unbuttoned the waistband of her jeans and pulled down the zipper. She lifted her hips so he could pull them down her thighs.

“Nice tat.” Bending his dark head, he kissed the tattoo of a hummingbird peeking out from under her bikini panties, below her left hip bone. Its little beak pointed toward heaven, and not the one in the sky.

“You like it?”

“Honey, so far I like everything about your body, especially those tits. I’d like to sample a little of your nectar.” His large index finger toyed with the elastic on her panties while his mouth went back for seconds on her breasts.

She giggled, sounding way too much like an enamored teenager. In disgust, she turned away from him and composed herself. She’d never fall for a jock. They were entitled, self-serving pigs, just like the one sucking on her tit right now. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t in this for love, just lust.

“I like yours, too.” Lavender squeezed his shoulder and the Rose Bowl tattoo then kissed the Ryan tattoo on his chest.

A cloud passed over his face but the asshole quickly regained command. “I have one more on my ass.”

“On your ass?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned and unzipped his jeans. She licked her lips and reached for his waistband, helping him out of his jeans. A couple seconds later, he shucked his underwear and turned his butt toward her, difficult to do in the tight quarters. She stared at the fancy script on his butt spelling out the word
ass.

“It really does say ass.” It just figured the guy would tattoo the word
ass
on his butt.

“You doubted me?” He struggled to untangle his long legs and shift his big body to face hers. “You’re still hating me, aren’t you?”

“More than ever.”

“Good. I’d hate to think you actually liked me.”

“Never happen. Quit talking and get to work.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned his bad-boy grin, which promised all sorts of carnal delights she couldn’t wait to sample.

“Good thing you have a big truck with lots of room in the backseat.”

“The biggest.” His bad-boy grin promised great things.

He turned to fully face her, drawing her gaze to his cock. The man was hung like a draft horse. She’d had some big cocks in her life, but nothing like this guy. He pushed her down on the seat, his hips between her legs, his mouth even with her breasts. His big erection grazed her stomach.

Her pussy wept with desire. Tyler started with her mouth and kissed his way back to her tits. The guy hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he was a tit man. His mouth latched onto her other nipple. Little prickles of pleasure shot through her. His teeth abraded the sensitive skin. He flattened the opposite nipple between a thumb and forefinger. He grasped the barbell and rotated his wrist in a slight twisting motion. She yelped in surprise, pinned to the seat by his big body.

Lifting his head, he regarded her with lust-filled eyes. “I’m not much for vanilla sex.”

“Neither am I.” Lavender gritted her teeth as he grasped her other nipple and twisted.

“Once won’t be enough.”

“No, it won’t.”

“But right now, if I don’t bury this cock of mine inside that pussy of yours, I may just die.”

“I wouldn’t want any trouble with the Lumberjacks, so do it, jock boy.” Retrieving the condom in the seatback pocket, she tore the wrapper off the package. He reared up, supporting his weight with one strong arm braced on the seat beside her. She slid the condom onto the head of his cock and rolled it down his length. Tyler’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he grunted. She slipped her hands under his thighs and cupped his balls.

“Ah, fu—dang. Don’t do that. I can’t hold out much longer.”

Tyler gritted his teeth, the veins stood out in his neck. Lavender placed her hands on his waist and arched her hips, pressing them against him. He positioned his big cock at her dripping entrance. The head stretched her wide open. He paused, even though his clenched jaw looked ready to shatter.

“I really don’t want to hurt you.” Each strained word sounded as if it was wrenched from his very soul.

“Give it to me.”

She flexed her hips and pushed him in a little deeper. It’d be a stretch, a difficult one, but the reward would be worth the pain. She moved her hips in a circular motion, knowing she was teasing him beyond all reason.

“Take me. Hard.”

Tyler’s control shattered. She saw it on his face. His muscles bunched, gathered, prepared themselves for ramming it home. She wrapped her legs around his waist and urged him on. With one hard, rough, powerful thrust, his huge cock stretched her tight little hole. A sharp pain cascaded through her, but only lasted a brief moment. She cried out, but suspected he wasn’t capable of hearing anymore. He filled every part of her not leaving one empty space. She felt him all the way to her womb. Her walls stretched to accommodate him. He stared down at her as he held himself inside her, appearing to savor the moment as much as her.

Sliding out, he slammed into her again and raised her hips off the seat with each successive thrust. Her head tapped against the door as he drove into her body, relentless, demanding, and needy.

She raked his shoulders with her fingernails and dug her heels into the small of his back. The man plunged into her, frenzied and out of control. He rode her hard, taking no prisoners. His mouth came down on hers, growing more crazed with every deep stroke of his cock. Their bodies slapped together. His harsh breathing echoed her own.

The orgasm built inside her, coming on swift and powerful, driving her out of her mind. Judging by his increased rhythm, his was near, too. She screamed her release, shouting his name over and over. Sweat poured off him and mingled with sweat on her body. Veins stood out on his neck. His lips peeled back to reveal bared teeth.

His cock jerked inside her several times. Her pussy tightened around him, as if it could hold him there forever. His hoarse shouts mingled with hers. Her body disintegrated and merged with his, as they shot toward the stars.

Finally, their passions ebbed then floated back to earth.

Tyler wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly in the back seat of his truck on a public street. Lavender closed her eyes and buried her face in his shoulder, allowing herself a few minutes to forget how much she disliked him.

Chapter 12

In the Shotgun

Lavender stirred in Tyler’s big bed—the guy didn’t do anything small—buried under a mound of blankets. One heck of a storm was blowing in off the ocean. Rain pelted the windows while wind rattled the mansion’s old bones. The old lady creaked and groaned but stood her course.

In that place between waking and sleeping, Lavender recalled a night of incredible passion and intensity so strong it would have destroyed a weaker person. Despite being shrouded in mist, the dream seemed too real, right down to the ache between her legs, tenderized nipples, and bones turned to putty.

She lay limp, her limbs too heavy to move, and processed everything in an attempt to separate fantasy from reality. Fantasy came in the form of emotions she didn’t want to examine. Reality came in the form of a large hand cupping one breast. A soft snore rumbled in her ear. A hairy chest rubbed against her back. A semi-erect cock pressed against her butt.

Not a dream. She’d done untold things with and to Tyler Harris, and she wanted to do more.

The object of her thoughts stirred but didn’t wake. Rolling onto his back, he stretched and smiled a lazy smile in his sleep. She wondered if he was thinking of her or some other woman. After the night they’d just spent together, he’d damn well better be thinking of her.

The man was pure male gorgeousness in the early morning light. As his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, she ran an exploring hand over his abs and pecs. She relished the hardness, the sheer maleness of his long, lean body with its well-defined muscles.

His dark lashes were sinfully long, yet didn’t look the least bit feminine on him. Nothing on this man was feminine. He exuded one hundred percent testosterone. His chiseled face belonged on the big screen or advertising for the All-American bad boy.

She leaned forward and kissed the cleft in his chin, then brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. His unruly dark hair curled at the ends. She slid a finger across his day’s growth of beard. Obviously, shaving wasn’t any more of a priority for him than a haircut was. Her breasts tingled as she recalled how his beard scraped across them as he sucked and licked her nipples, the proof of his deeds still visible by the red marks on her breasts.

The two of them connected with combustible chemistry fueled by their differences and their similarities. All purely physical, of course. She didn’t like him or the things he stood for.

Lavender rarely lingered in bed with a man after they’d screwed their brains out. One or the other of them left before morning. Hell if she knew why she lingered now. If she had any intelligence, she’d yank on her clothes and head home. That way they could both pretend nothing happened, until the next time. She had little doubt there’d be a next time.

With one last kiss to his cheek, she rolled into a sitting position on the edge of the bed and wondered why she’d felt the urge to kiss him. Kissing on the cheek was a tenderness thing. Tenderness didn’t fit her view of recreational sex. She doubted it fit his. Whatever possessed her to give him a chaste kiss couldn’t, wouldn’t, happen again.

Time to leave.

Oh, crap. Her clothes were in his truck.

A meow sounded behind her head. The orange tabby sat on the nightstand, grooming his pristine white paws.

“How long have you been there?”

The cat smirked, keeping to himself just how long he’d been there. “You watched us?”

Smug and playing it cool, the cat jumped off the nightstand and sauntered from the room.

“You little voyeur.”

Next time, she’d insist Tyler shut the bedroom door. She looked back at a peaceful, sleeping Tyler. How he managed to look so angelic and so bad at the same time eluded her.

Lavender loved how her small body fit so well with his big one. Instead of feeling overwhelmed, his sheer size and strength energized her. Despite a level of danger to the man, she trusted him with her body. He’d never harm her physically.

Never.

Emotionally might be a different story.

* * * * *

Tyler yawned and stretched. A satisfied smile lifted the corners of his mouth. The sheets caressed his naked body, while the blankets wrapped him in warmth in the chilly room. He’d rather be wrapped in Lavender’s warmth. He reached for her. His hand swiped across cold sheets and found nothing. No warm female body with tits sent from heaven and sinful red hair. And yes, she was a natural redhead.

She must have left sometime in the night. Morning sun shone off the water in the small bay. Rolling to his feet, Tyler walked to the French doors and threw them open, ignoring the frigid air. Unconcerned about his nakedness, he walked out onto the master bedroom balcony.

Tyler breathed deeply, inhaling the fresh salt air and savoring the smells of the island after a good rainfall. Damn, if he didn’t watch it, he might actually start liking this place and want to keep the money pit.

Frowning at the thought, he walked back inside and kicked the door shut with his foot. He loved cities, loved the excitement, the parties, the places, the people, the sights, the smells. He wasn’t a country guy, never would be and didn’t want to be. He’d keep telling himself that, too, until he believed it.

In less than months, he’d be back in Seattle, his life an endless round of parties at night and working out during the day. No more sassy redhead to trade barbs and share his bed. No more Brotherhood with their annoying habits of showing up on his doorstep at all hours to watch his television, play cards, and empty his liquor cabinet. No more finicky orange tabby cat. No more Saturday night karaoke with the gang at the veterans’ club.

Life would go back to normal, and so would he.

If he could figure out what normal was.

A cold shower didn’t help.

After he toweled off, he wrenched open a stuck drawer on the antique dresser and yanked on clean underwear, a pair of faded jeans, and a sweatshirt. He grabbed a fresh cup of coffee from the kitchen and walked onto the porch. His gaze slid to Lavender’s house, but he didn’t see any sign of life.

You’d think he’d have had enough last night to last a few days, but his cock didn’t agree. It sprang to red alert, ready for action.

Tyler craned his neck for some sign of her piece of shit truck in the driveway. Disappointment flooded through him. She wasn’t home, probably volunteering at the senior center or old folks’ home.

With a sigh, he walked back to the house. Picking up a sheet of sandpaper, he took his frustrations out on the banister.

* * * * *

Lavender put the dirty glasses in the under-bar dishwasher. Tyler, her only patron, sat at the bar, nursing his first and only beer, one eye on her and one on ESPN. The man wanted some, and he’d probably get it just like he had for the past week. Not that she was complaining. He knew how to find just the right places, places she didn’t even know existed.

Tyler stared up at the television, and she followed his gaze. ESPN was interviewing Zach Murphy. The guy, all intense and edgy, discussed his move to a new team and what he wanted out of next season. He fended off the questions about alleged sexual abuse of a former girlfriend, insisting it was bullshit.
Yeah, right.
She snorted out loud, drawing a questioning look from Tyler which she ignored.

“What an entitled ass,” she muttered under her breath. The jerk was probably one of those guys who believed women deserved just what they got.

“I heard that. You called the guy an
entitled ass
. I’m wounded.” Tyler held his hands over his heart.

Confused, she stared at him. “Why?”

“I thought that endearment was reserved for me.” His blue eyes sparkled.

They nearly sucked her in, but she sidestepped their magnetic pull, at least for now. “You’re all the same.”

“Not at all, honey. I’m unique. Murphy isn’t even on the same playing field as me.” Tyler leaned forward and wrapped his hands around his beer glass. He studied her, as if waiting for her counter attack. They both relished trading barbs with each other.

What about Tyler Harris? We understand you aren’t the best of friends.

At the mention of his name on television, Tyler glanced up and rolled his eyes. “That guy is an idiot.”

We aren’t the best of anything.

So the rumors about division on the team are true?

Exaggerated. Harris needs to get his head on straight.

Do you believe Harris is in rehab?

Zach snorted.
How would I know? I don’t keep tabs on him. As long as Harris leaves it all out on the field and plays with heart, he’s none of my concern.

If he doesn’t?

Zach Murphy raised his dark, intense eyes to the camera.
Then we have a problem, don’t we?

Lavender switched the channel to a Mariners baseball game. “We don’t need to hear any more of his BS.”

“Tell me about it.” Tyler rubbed his stubbled chin, watching her way too closely, and looking like a man with something more on his mind than sex or Zach Murphy. “You know, Vinnie, I get hating jocks on principle as overpaid, entitled asses. Your dislike goes beyond the norm. So tell me. Why is it you hate jocks so much? Specifically football players. Is your hatred a matter of principle or based on personal experience?”

Lavender stiffened, and she ground her teeth together in an effort to rein in her smart mouth. He’d hit a nerve, a big one. If he had an ounce of brain matter in his thick head, he’d keep his mouth shut and change the subject. “Do I need to list all the reasons to you? You already know most of them because everything I hate about jocks is reflected in your insufferable personality.”

“I’m good in bed.” He grinned at her and held out his beer for a refill.

“You a
re
good naked, I’ll give you that.”

“That’s all there is, baby, and don’t you forget it.” Pain flickered in his blue eyes, quickly replaced by his usual arrogant smugness.

Yet, she’d seen it with her own eyes. She’d penetrated his thick skin, which should’ve made her feel triumphant. A twinge of guilt ruined the usual satisfaction she received by bashing him. “I wouldn’t dream of it and ruin our mutual dislike?”

“Never happen.” Tyler snaked an arm around her neck and caught her off guard. Pulling her across the counter, he laid a big, sloppy kiss on her. She didn’t resist, instead she gave it right back with a vengeance, a grudge kiss, one to prove he didn’t serve any purpose beyond a sex partner. They attacked each other like two wild creatures in a mating frenzy of pure animal lust. His mouth bruised hers. Their noses bumped together. His stubble burned her cheeks. His tongue pillaged her tongue. She gave as good as she got by answering his every parry and thrust with a parry and thrust of her own. She’d be naked before she knew it at this rate and going at it on top of the bar. Even more disturbing, she didn’t give a shit.

The recently installed bell over the door tinkled, signaling new customers. Lavender retreated to her side of the bar. Homer and Ed shuffled across the room and headed for chairs at their favorite table near the big screen television.

Tyler sketched a salute in their direction. “Hey, Brothers.” Both men saluted back.

Lavender had their drinks on the table before they’d managed to lower their creaky, ancient bodies into their seats. “Homer, how’s your arthritis treating you?”

“I have good days and bad.”

“If you need to go to the VA on the mainland, I’d be glad to take you in my day off.” Lavender mother-henned these guys, and they ate it up. “And you, Ed, are you taking your heart medicine?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Like he’d dare not take it. The Brothers didn’t call her sergeant-major for nothing.

Satisfied they were comfortable, she returned to her spot behind the bar. Tyler studied her so intently, she checked her face in the bar mirror but didn’t find anything. He looked too much like a man with something to say, something she might not want to hear. She decided to distract him. “Did you know your cat watches us when we have sex in your room?”

“Cougar?”

“That’s what you call him?”

“Yeah.”

“He does have the heart of a cougar.”

“No shit. Besides, I’m partial to cougars. I played my college ball for the Cougars.”

“I know.” She busied herself wiping the already clean counter. She knew only too well.

“You do?” He moved in like a cougar himself, circling his wounded prey.

“Everybody knows that.” She spat the words at him, as she scrubbed the counter hard enough to rub the finish off the wood top. She was pissed as hell at herself for revealing that fact to him. How stupid could she be? The last thing this man needed to know was her connection to his college football team.

“Not everybody. I thought you hated football.”

“Just drop it.” Lavender turned her back on him and yanked glasses from the dishwasher. With the same quickness he demonstrated when eluding linebackers, he stepped behind the counter and pinned her in the corner with his big body. His breath tickled her ear. She kept her back to him. Her pulse raced from his nearness not just physically, but emotionally. He’d opened an old wound, one she never wanted to open. Her stomach churned and her head ached.