Authors: Liz Matis
Playing For Keeps (17 page)
“When you’re done with that you can separate them by color.” Laughter broke out.
“Are they picking on you?”
Ryan looked up to see a smiling Samantha at the edge of the patio.
“Just having fun, little sis,” said Patrick.
“You better hope I don’t tel Mom. Dinner is ready.” As her brothers and father passed her, she said to Ryan, “Are you coming?”
“I’m finishing up. Gotta earn my keep.”
She walked into the yard and kicked at a pile of leaves.
“Hey! Hannah paid 3K for me to rake that.”
“Donated.”
“Stil , I bet Jake isn’t raking leaves.”
Samantha patted Ryan’s cheek. “Poor Ry, Ry.”
Ryan lifted her off the grass and tumbled her to the soft pile. Before she could catch her breath their lips met. The sound of leaves crinkling and cracking as he pressed his body against hers surrounded him. They sunk deeper into the pile. He lifted his head and licked his lips. “Mmm, you taste like cinnamon and apples.”
“I sneaked a piece of apple pie.”
“Bad girl.” He knew he should get up, but, damn, she felt so good beneath him. Damn good. “I’ve worked up an appetite out here, I could use another taste.”
“You don’t taste, you consume.”
“I think I told you once before I have a very large appetite.” He kissed her again, but this time slowly, with more finesse. He savored her like a connoisseur of lips. He nibbled, then licked, then slowly swirled his tongue with hers, until he felt her tremble. He wanted to kiss her everywhere until she begged him to devour her. She pressed her hips into him and he nearly plunged his tongue deep into her mouth the way he wanted to plunge into her softness.
From faraway he heard the screen door slam and her nephew yel ing, “Ryan is kissing Aunt Sami!’
After leisurely ending the kiss, he said, “I’m in real trouble now.”
“You’re a big boy.”
“You can feel that, huh?”
She playful y shoved his shoulder. “That’s not what I meant, but yeah you are.”
He helped her up, resisting the temptation to pul her into his arms. Instead, he removed a red leaf out of her tousled hair. She smiled shyly as she smoothed the wild strands back into place. Ryan’s breath caught in his throat. Autumn sun shimmered about her face, creating a halo effect. Her eyes sparkled like champagne. His mind reeled. Was the rosy glow tingeing her cheeks a blush or from the cold? He had to know and reached out, his fingers brushing across her face. Hot. A blush. A soft breeze lit the air bringing a flood of warmth into his heart. Ryan knew he’d fal en in love. He pushed out a breath.
Samantha took his arm and pul ed him toward the house. “Come on, it won’t be so bad.”
Oh yes, it will.
Then he realized she referred to her waiting family and not this sudden affliction. Love was not in his playbook.
Ryan steeled himself as he held the door for Samantha. He didn’t know what to expect. Different scenarios played in his head, from being asked to leave, to being poisoned. Where was his offensive line when he real y needed them? In the kitchen, Samantha’s mother rushed about putting the final touches on dinner. Samantha’s nieces and nephews were singing at ful volume.
Ryan and Samantha sitting in tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
They hit the word marriage and Ryan had visions of a shotgun wedding. It didn’t scare him, though. The fact that he wouldn’t mind - now, that scared him.
“Hel o, Mrs. Jameson.”
“Ryan, go wash your hands. You, too, Samantha.” Beaming from ear to ear, she patted Samantha on the cheek.
At least, Samantha’s mother seemed happy. In fact, she looked over the moon about it. At least he could rule out being poisoned. Now al he had to worry about was the gun Patrick carried.
Samantha squirted soap into his hand, then into her own. The intimacy of the moment had him fighting the urge to take her hands in his. At the same time they both went to rinse. When they touched, she looked up at him and smiled. Rooted to the spot by the sink he continued to stare at her beautiful face while the water flowed onto his hands. Then she spritzed him in the face with both of her un-dried hands. “Don’t stress.”
“Hey.” He grinned, loving this playful side of her. “Easy for you to say.” She handed him a paper towel.
“I’l protect you.”
Ryan took the open seat next to Samantha. The family said grace together and after the Amen the plates of pork roast, coleslaw, corn, green beans, gravy, biscuits, and mashed potatoes were passed around the table. It looked like an extra workout was in his future.
“Shouldn’t we say a prayer for Ryan?” Patrick asked as he plopped a large dol op of mashed potatoes on his plate.
“Whatever for?” asked Mrs. Jameson.
“That his nose doesn’t break when I punch him later.”
“Save the big brother act,” said Samantha, waving her knife around.
Ryan’s heart swel ed. With Samantha on his team, he didn’t need his offensive line. Dinner conversation flowed between sports, politics, and how good the food was.
Growing up in this family must’ve been an ideal childhood. He’d been lucky enough to have dinners here over the years, but though they always made him feel welcome, in truth he was only a spectator. They didn’t know how lucky they were, it al seemed so natural for them. When one was in trouble the rest ran to help. Who would he cal ? His agent? Like he would care if he wasn’t getting his ten percent. His teammates were more like frat brothers than the true blood kind. Ryan helped the women clear the dishes. Patrick cal ed him a brown-noser, which earned him the evil eye from Mrs. Jameson. Of course, Patrick had it al wrong. He wasn’t brown-nosing - he was hiding behind the apron strings of the women. The family sat back down for dessert.
“Ryan, do you want your slice ala’ mode?”
He preferred it ala’ Samantha, like their kiss, but wisely kept that to himself. “No thank you, your apple pie doesn’t need anything with it.”
Her mother smiled as she served him.
“Oh, brother,” said Sean, the other brother.
“Why does he get the biggest slice?” Patrick pointed to his plate then to Ryan’s.
“Because she’s trying to get Sami married off,” said Sean.
“Think she’d give up by now,” said Patrick.
“Hey!” Samantha slapped her brother’s arm.
Dessert was quickly consumed. The men vanished, pul ing Ryan into the den. The kids ran back outside, itching to jump in the piles of leaves.
***
“Is he a good kisser?” asked her sister Col een, the nun.
The pot slipped out of Samantha’s hand. Clang. She picked it up and continued drying, ignoring the question.
Her mother turned from the sink and looked her directly in the eye. “Wel ?”
“Or course, he is. He’s had a lot of practice.”
Her other sister, Erin, took the pot from Samantha’s grip. “He’s in love with you.”
Samantha snorted. Her mom turned off the faucet and began drying her hands with a Kiss Me I’m Irish hand towel. “Even if you tried to discount the way he looks at you, Ryan’s down the hal in your father’s study getting the third degree. A man doesn’t go through that, unless he’s serious.” Her mom gently placed her hand on Samantha’s cheek. “Unless he’s in love.”
Samantha bowed her head in thought.
Ryan in love? With her?
She frowned.
Erin smacked her with a towel. “Why so glum, sis? He loves you, you love him.”
Her head snapped up. “I do NOT love him.”
“Who was al set to go to Columbia University when Patrick brought Ryan home for Thanksgiving?” asked Col een.
“And whose Notre Dame application was in the mail the fol owing Monday?” added Erin.
“So, I thought he was hot.”
Col een said, “Was? The man could pose for Michelangelo.”
“You need to go back to nun school.”
“Just appreciating God’s work.”
Samantha shook her head at her sister. “I’m going to go save Ryan.”
“You mean, save yourself,” said Erin.
As she walked down the hal way, Samantha wondered what the hel was going on in her father’s study. She stopped at the door. Silence.
Curious, she put her ear to the wal next to the doorframe. Then, laughter broke out, startling her.
So much for getting the third degree.
They were silent as they walked to the car. Ryan held the door open and Samantha slid inside. After getting in, he turned on the heat, rubbing his hands together trying to get warm. “That went wel .”
Samantha laughed. “What happened in the den?”
“Man stuff.”
“Come on, tel me.”
“I assured the males of your family that my intentions are honorable.”
“Oh.”
He turned onto the highway, leading back to the city. “So, my place or yours?”
“Yours.” She wondered what the males in her family would say about that.
***
Two black leather couches, a fifty-inch 3-D television with al the audio man toys hung from the wal , and a white shag area rug made up the living room. Lights from the city shone off the glass table in the darkened dining room. The stainless steel kitchen looked like it belonged in a five star restaurant.
No family pictures hung from the wal because he didn’t have any. No personal items lay strewn about. Ryan wasn’t the type to hold onto things.
One never knew when it would be taken away.
He always thought his apartment was sleek. Cool. But gazing at Samantha standing by the window, beautiful and ful of life, now made his place seem stark. Cold.
“Nice view.”
He walked over. Instead of looking out, he cupped her cheek. “I’l say.” He leaned forward and brushed her lips with his. “The view is better from my bedroom.”
“Show me,” her voice soft and sultry.
Not taking his eyes off of her intent gaze, he picked her up, carried her to his bed, and gently placed her down.
He slowly stripped off his shirt, enjoying Samantha’s appreciative gaze heating his skin. Her eyes like whiskey, drinking him in. He shed the rest of his clothes.
“When did you get the tattoo?”
He continued to stand there, liking the way she looked in his bed. Like she belonged there. “Rookie season,” he said absently.
She reached out, tracing the star burst pattern around his navel with her delicate finger. His abs flexed under her touch and he heard her suck in her breath.
Joining her on the bed, he said, “Let’s get you naked.”
He stripped each item off and tossed them one by one to the four corners of his room. “You’re already wet for me.” He dipped a finger in, pul ed it back out, and brought it to his mouth for a taste. “Mmmm, so sweet.”
“Ryan.”
“Not yet. First, the appetizer.” His slow, deep, passionate kisses left no doubt on how he would proceed. His tongue traced a path along her lips before sliding down to her neck.
“Ryan.” She withered beneath him.
Kissing, licking, biting, he pressed down onto her so she couldn’t move, which made her struggle more. “Now the main course.”
“Yes.” She placed her hands on his head and pushed him down.
But he would not be rushed. Her perfect breasts begged to be sucked. He clamped his mouth down and sucked hard, while twirling his tongue around the nipple. The other breast received the same attention. Her frantic movements nearly undid him. Her hands pushed down on his shoulders. But she should be careful what she wished for. He planned the same assault on her pussy. His lips feathered down her, passing her sex to kiss her inner thighs. Her body arched.
He latched on to her clit and sucked, then licked, then swirled, and then alternated between the three. Her violent climax came on suddenly.
Grabbing a condom from the nightstand, he slid it on. His cock harder, bigger than he’d ever remembered. He wanted to drive into her, hard, but took slow breaths to calm himself. Her body glistened with sweat and heaved with aftershocks. He did this to her. And he wasn’t done yet.
Ryan entered her with agonizing slowness. Her body quaked around him. His cock throbbed, demanding to be unchained. But his mind – his his heart, held back.
Deep, hard, torturous strokes. She begged him to go faster. His cocked begged too. This time her climax built slowly. Her nails ripped into his back. He welcomed the pain; it helped him stay focused as she continued to climb before reaching the peak and crying out his name. Now he was the one who felt on top of the world.
He nuzzled her neck, and rol ed onto his back, taking her with him. Then nearly came when her wetness dripped down his cock. Cradling her in his arms, he caressed her back until her breathing evened and she raised herself up. Her eyes shone with pleasure. He gripped her hips tightly so she couldn’t move. He thrust up and hard into her. Once, twice, three, times.
“No, my turn,” she whimpered.
He couldn’t refuse her. Not this time. Her desperation became his desperation. He loosened his grip on her hips and she took charge, riding him like she was trying to break a world record. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his forearms, keeping herself anchored and upright. Her moans fil ed the room and his soul. Samantha tightened around him. She was close. So was he.
His vision dimmed and he looked up at her one last time before the passion blinded him for good. So beautiful and wild. And his. The screams of her release took him over the edge of reality. Blind and insane.
Ryan stared at the ceiling while Samantha slept. He concentrated on moving his legs, and then rol ed into a sitting position, holding back a groan as his muscles protested. With the years of playing footbal taking its tol on his body, he ached like this every morning. His knees, back, neck…
what didn’t hurt? He looked down at his morning erection and smiled.
Yeah, now that doesn’t hurt a bit.
He glanced at the alarm clock. 5:00 a.m.
