Play Date (Play Makers Book 3) (6 page)

“Oh, God . . .”

“That’s right, teach. Say your prayers.” He slid his hand inside the slit of her skirt and then between her legs. “I’ve been thanking the Almighty since the first second I saw you.”

She giggled helplessly, then gasped when he worked a finger under the crotch of her panties. It sent a jolt through her, and then he was pulling the panties down her legs, dropping to one knee to lift one high-heeled foot and then the other off the ground, freeing the garment and tossing it to the side.

Then he was back, kissing her again, before she could do anything but moan in delight, and then her tongue was sparring with his, encouraging him to hoist her off her feet, his huge hands lifting her by her bottom and grinding her against his erection again.

And God help her, it felt so good she wrapped her legs around him and groaned again, delirious with anticipation, knowing instinctively she was going to climax, and climax hard. And soon.

He began penetrating her, inch by enormous, pulsating inch, and she gasped in confusion. “It’s so huge,” she told him breathlessly. “Oh, God, you’re amazing.”

She had been taught for years that size didn’t matter, but as her insides reeled from shock waves of pleasure, she knew someone, somewhere, had effed up the research. Because this mattered like crazy, to the point where she sunk her teeth into his neck to stop herself from shrieking in unholy ecstasy.

“Man, Rachel,” he said in a husky whisper. “You feel so good.”

“Oh, God, so do you.”

His chuckle reverberated through her. “Just give it up, baby. It’s gonna be epic.”

She would have laughed too. Would have assured him she had no choice but to “give it up.” But her pleasure was cresting in focused, agonizingly perfect release.

She almost forgot he was a separate person until his own climax took over and she hung on for dear life, riding
his
wave as well as her own. Her legs wrapped around him more tightly, her arms clung to his neck, and when he grappled her close with a raspy sigh of satisfaction, she wriggled in giddy approval.

“You okay, teach?” he murmured, still holding her securely off the ground.

She pulled back enough to flash a dazed smile. Then she sandwiched his handsome face between her hands and said simply, “You.”

“It’s like the Wild West in there,” he said, his voice still hushed.

“What?”

He laughed. “Did I say that out loud?”

“I don’t even know what it means,” she said, confused but knowing she should be mortified.

“It means I’m the sheriff now.”

She tried to scowl, but laughter was bubbling up from deep within her, courtesy of an unexpected aftershock. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah, that’s why someone’s got to tame that pussy. And you just elected
me.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” she told him, trying for her best teacher tone. “This was fun, but please put me down.”

“Give it a minute,” he suggested, nuzzling her ear. “We might get lucky again.”

She collapsed against him, laughing helplessly.

“Come on, teach,” he murmured. “Give me a kiss.”

He deserved it, so she drew back, then laced her fingers in his wildly thick hair and pulled his mouth against hers, kissing him with every ounce of gratitude and adoration she could muster. She wanted to tell him how much this had meant to her. How much fun it had been. How unexpected and hilarious.

But he really was getting hard again, and she actually gasped in dismay. “You can’t be serious. Put me down. Or at least . . .” Her libido staged a rapid comeback. “We need to use a condom this time. That was completely irresponsible of us.”

“We
did
use a condom. You were too turned on to notice.”

“Oh . . .” She winced. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he murmured, his tone deep with renewed huskiness. “You feel so good, Rachel.”

Her brain reminded her they should surely use a fresh condom for this next round, and she mumbled something to that effect, but it was too late. He was pumping gently but purposefully, his erection swelling to its former proportions, awakening muted but still thrilling sensations inside her.

She wouldn’t climax again. Her personal history had established that. But she was so grateful to this sexy giant she couldn’t deny him. In fact, she wanted to make it even better for him this time, so she tried to muster some dirty talk. “You feel so good inside me.”

“Yeah, that’s the concept,” he said, chuckling and taking a few steps, still gripping her, until her back was against the cold stone wall of the patio. Thus braced, he moved even more rhythmically, making her ache with remembered pleasure.

“What’s going on?” he murmured into her ear.

“Hmm?”

“Come on, teach. Give it up. Don’t make me beg again.”

She rested her cheek against his chest and told him, “It feels good.”

“Good?” He gripped her buttocks more firmly with one huge hand while moving the other between her legs, his fingers probing curiously. “Come on, Rachel. Let’s get it on.”

“Oh, God . . .”

“You like that?” He stimulated her with increasing precision until she gasped, her body arching to encourage him.

“
Now
it’s a party,” he said happily as he pumped his huge cock with increased urgency.

Rachel’s insides gripped with pleasure, the need growing with every thrust, the release so near yet not quite there. But she was getting the hang of it, and squirmed instinctively, conscious of every nuance, every taste, every nerve ending, until his own hedonistic climax pushed her past the brink and she orgasmed with a shriek of delight and disbelief.

Without consciously intending it, she demanded, “Tell me your name.”

“It’s Bam.”

“No, your
real
name.”

“You can call me Sheriff Bannerman.”

She giggled wearily. “You’re so funny. And you feel soooo good. But I need to soak in a hot bath. Maybe for a week. So please put me down.”

“Sure.” He lowered her to her feet, then kissed her mouth gently. “That was amazing.”

“I never climaxed twice in one night. Not ever.”

“Take that bath. Then we’ll try for three.”

“We will not.” She stroked his jaw. “I’ll never forget this. Never forget
you.
But seriously, I’m leaving now.”

She expected him to argue, but he just nodded, his expression surprisingly respectful. “You’re too sweet for that bod, Rachel.”

“Thanks. I think.” She smiled, then slipped from his grasp and walked over to pick up her purse. She needed her panties too but they were nowhere in sight.

“Looking for something?” he asked with mock concern, and she knew he had hidden them somewhere on his hard body, hoping she’d search him.

“I guess they’re gone for good,” she said, teasing him back. “It was worth it, though. You’re a natural wonder.” Stepping back to him, she grazed her lips across his, then turned toward the atrium.

“Hey, teach?”

She swiveled her head slightly, not wanting to encourage him. “I really have to go.”

“What about the cake?”

“Hmmm?” She took a deep breath, then listened intently. The endless drone of toasts from brothers, friends and employers had apparently ended sometime between her first orgasm and the second one. Which made cake a definite possibility.

“Come on.” He abandoned his teasing seduction and patted her arm. “I’ll get you a really sweet piece. Seems only fair, right?”

“Grow up,” she advised with a sheepish laugh.

He laughed too, then pulled her close for one final, extremely gentle kiss. She didn’t encourage it, but responded enough to let him know it was okay.

More than okay, really. It was the sweetest good-bye she could imagine.

“Hey, what the fuck?” Sean’s voice demanded from the atrium archway. “You’re kissing my
date?”

Chapter 3

Rachel pulled free of Bannerman and eyed her date sheepishly. “Hi, Sean.”

He had two pieces of cake—one plate in each hand—and was staring at her and her halfback lover like they had stabbed him in the heart.

So she took a step toward him, smiling warily. “Mr. Bannerman and I were just getting some air.”

“That’s
Sheriff
Bannerman,” the sexy giant reminded her.

She started to laugh, but Sean’s scowl interrupted it, so she reminded him coolly,
“You
weren’t around.”

He ignored her and glared at his teammate. “You kissed my date?”

“You had your chance. So did John. It’s maritime law. Right, teach? They abandoned you in international waters. So you’re mine for the taking.”

Her affection vanished in an offended instant. “Charming.”

“Don’t get mad at
me,”
he said, still laughing. Then he raised his eyebrows slightly, as though sending her the silent message:
He thinks it was only a kiss, right?

Touched, she realized he wasn’t going to brag about the extent of the conquest, even though he and Sean were clearly competitive. And so she stepped up to him and touched his shoulder in thanks. “I’m glad I met you. Go back to the party.”

“Come with me,” he suggested softly.

“Leave her alone, Bam,” Sean warned. “Can’t you see she’s been drinking?”

“Drinking?”
Rachel spun on him, incredulous. “How would
you
know? You barely spent ten minutes with me the whole night.”

When Bannerman chuckled, she reminded him briskly, “Go back to the party.
Now.”

“Whatever you say, teach.” He winked, then strolled off toward the ballroom.

Sean’s tone was firm when he said, “I know you’re upset—”

“Upset? You’re unbelievable, Sean Decker.” Storming toward the exit, humiliated but also furious, she warned him over her shoulder, “Don’t you
ever
call me again.”

He hurried after her, his tone contrite. “Hey, Rachel, wait up.” When she slowed, he continued earnestly. “I’m sorry. And you’re right. I neglected you. But now I’m here. With cake, right? So we can watch TV. Maybe fool around a little—”

“Are you insane?” she demanded, pinning him with an angry glare.

He stood his ground. “Bam shouldn’t have kissed you. But that’s how he is. One step above the animals. Sometimes one step
below
the animals.”

“You’re
criticizing
him?”

He surprised her by laughing. “You’re saying I’m worse than Bam Bannerman? I guess I really screwed up, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“I’m really sorry.” He took a determined step closer. “Let’s salvage the night. My duties as best man are over now that John and Erica took off.”

“Oh,” she murmured. “I didn’t realize that.”

“Yeah, he was hot to get her alone.”

“Well, who could blame him?”

“That’s a slam?” He grinned. “Yeah, I’m the worst date ever. But let’s make a deal. You can have both pieces of cake. And I get to walk you to your door and kiss you good night. Then we’ll have breakfast tomorrow morning and start fresh. We can plan our next date before I drive you to the airport.”

“I’ll take both pieces of cake. But no kiss. Just leave me alone for the night,” she insisted, adding with a grimace, “and I’ll see you for breakfast.”

“Great.”

He seemed relieved to be off the hook, which made her furious all over again. She needed to get out of here. To get into that hot bath. Or maybe take a shower
before
the bath because she was embarrassingly sticky. Hopefully with her own juices, not Bannerman’s, but re-using that condom had been nuts.

Of course, the whole thing was nuts, so why single
that
out?

Because you could be pregnant with a giant baby,
she reminded herself as she rushed to the elevator and rode up to her floor. As much as she wanted children, and had actually considered having one out of wedlock if things didn’t come together in the next few years, she didn’t want
this
kid. The delivery alone would kill her.

She pictured the infant wearing a football helmet and shoulder pads as he fought his way down the birth canal, making the prospect even scarier. She should have laughed at the image, but her emotions were too jumbled and way too negative. By the time she got to her suite she was ready to throw the dessert away and head for the airport, sticky or not.

But the cake’s filling contained little flecks of orange peel, so she couldn’t resist eating both pieces. Then after a quick shower, she called the front desk and asked them to pick up her bags and get her a cab. She didn’t bother leaving a message for Sean because he didn’t deserve it. So she dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, running shoes and sunglasses, and then quietly made her escape.

• • •

She couldn’t really blame the cocktails, since she had only taken a few sips of the first one and even less of the second. Still, her head throbbed the next morning as she opened one eye to note the sun streaming through her bedroom window. Her flight had landed at three a.m., so she allowed herself to stay in bed until noon, which was close to the time she would have returned to San Diego anyway if she had breakfasted with Sean and then caught the ten a.m. flight from Portland.

If
she had breakfasted with him. But instead, he had been the world’s biggest flop.

She was still annoyed with him. And with Beth. Why had they allowed her to attend the stupid wedding in the first place? And why hadn’t she thought it through herself? They
all
should have realized she would be marooned in a sea of strangers since her only friends and acquaintances were members of the wedding party. Maybe if the crowds hadn’t swelled to three times the anticipated size, it would have been different, but she doubted it. It had just been a giant mistake, compounded by the expense of a fancy dress that would cost another bundle for dry cleaning, only to hang in her closet as a reminder of the worst weekend of her life.

But at least she wasn’t angry with “Bam” Bannerman, despite the embarrassing toast and his occasional lewd comments. He was what he was—a sexy hunk who hooked up with unsuspecting women all the time, gave them wild, satisfying rides, then moved on to the next conquest. She could hardly blame him for doing it with her. And even though she was a little sore, she had had fun with the guy, and that was worth something. At the very least, it made her appreciate her safe, cozy life.