#Score (16 page)

R
amona

I
've never heard
Benji talk this way about himself, admitting that he's not something. Any other time he's cocky to the point of arrogance, and while it probably bothers most people, it doesn't bother me. I find it pretty funny. He knows he's good at what he's good at, and there's nothing wrong with that. And now that I know he's able to admit to himself that there are things he doesn't or can't do . . . I see him in a whole new light. He's not just Benji, my hot soccer player friend who I have also slept with for a whole weekend practically. He's much more than that.

"No, no. That's ridiculous. I don't want somebody who's exactly like me. Ugh, that would be so boring. And there were a lot of boring parts in my relationship with Dimitri, so I know what I'm talking about. I used to think that I wanted somebody who like you said could share in everything I did, all the time. But I'm smart enough to know better now."

Benji's eyebrows knit together as he focuses on my mouth, his eyes lingering on them. It leaves me naked but formidable. Like I could draw him in with them and he wouldn't even notice.

He shakes his head at me, looking back up at my eyes again. Chills run down my back as he places his arm across the back of the couch, his fingertips brushing against the back of my neck. "Okay, but I'm nowhere near your level. What would you want with a dumb Southern boy like me?"

This time I roll my eyes at him. "Besides the fact that that is a rather
broad
generalization and there are very smart people who live in the South so your point is moot, there's a lot that I would want with you, Benji. That's what I'm trying to say."

He stands up quickly, his hands shoved into his pockets. "But you don't get it. I'm not . . ." He lets his voice trail off for a moment as his gaze drops down to the floor. When he looks back at me, there’s something deep in his eyes that I haven't seen before. Shame? "I'm not good enough for you, okay? You deserve more than me. I can't let you choose me, I can't let you do that to yourself."

My jaw drops open and I stand up too, going toe to toe with him. "Oh no, oh no you
don't
. You don't get to pick who I choose. That's for me to do, not anyone else. Just for me. You can't just pick who I love like it's some sort of random lottery or something and I . . . " I stop in mid-sentence, my hand going up to my mouth when I realize what I've just said. If I'm surprised, it's nothing compared to the look on Benji's face.

I've never seen him so shocked, his eyes both wide and hopeful. He leans in, scrunching his face up. "What? I wasn't. I wasn't talking about that. I was saying . . ." His voice trails off too and we're left there standing face to face with barely any room between us, both surprised at my slip.

The corner of his mouth quirks up and I mirror him, both of us smiling until we’re full-on grinning at each other. We must look like the biggest doofuses on the planet right now.

"I guess no one gets to choose who they love, do they? It kind of happens right under your nose, you don't even realize what’s happening until it hits you like a Mack truck. I was sitting in my car, telling myself this was impossible. But I guess I do. I do love you." He pulls me in by my waist, and I'm looking way up into his eyes, wishing I could paint the exact blue that swims around in his irises. "I love you, Ramona."

There was a point in my life when Dimitri tried to do this with me, telling me he loved me and even then, it was hard to believe him. But this is different, this is different on so many different levels. I can always tell when someone means something important, when they truly believe in what they're saying to me. And there's no doubt in my mind that Benji loves me.

"This is sort of like when you always beat me at that racing game. It's like you're always beating me to the punch." I joke, wrapping my arms around his neck and smiling. "I love you too. Pretty boy," I add, laughing when he winks down at me.

He's quick to pull me down onto the couch on top of him, his mouth on mine in an instant, melting me though. There's a light and bubbly feeling running along my awareness, tinting everything in sweet pinks and creamy pale tones. Now I know what people are talking about when they say 'rose-colored glasses.' I didn't think it was possible to feel this way while at the same time feel like I'm drowning in lust for Benji.

Benji's mouth trails a blazing hot line down the curve of my neck, his hands clutching at my hips as he rolls his hips against them. I bite my lip, loving how he takes the steering wheel, making me safe and free at the same time.

"I love the way your hips are shaped. Like a perfect little Carolina peach," he says against my stomach when he lifts up my shirt.

"I thought peaches were from Georgia?" I tease.

"Common misconception. Well, I mean they do come from Georgia too, but most people prefer the peaches that come from South Carolina. They're sweeter. True story," Benji says without missing a beat.

"And you say I'm the smart one. I think you've been holding out on me, sir," I reply.

Benji looks up at this, meeting my eyes with a mischievous look. "You have no idea." His fingers undo the button and zipper of my jeans with finesse, shoving them down until they're in a pool on the floor.

"I don't know when Brie and her boyfriend are coming back . . ." I remind him, looking over at the front door. "Maybe we should move this to the bedroom?"

He helps me up and takes my hand, pulling me along after him. Shutting the door, he spins me around and pushes me up against it with a loud thump. His mouth is everywhere, his hands too, touching and tasting every inch of my skin he can reach while my underwear is still in place, my bra discarded to the side.

Suddenly he drops his mouth to one nipple, sweeping his tongue around it in slow, deliberate circles. A moan rises up in my throat, causing me to squirm where I stand. And the sucking begins, his teeth lightly scraping my sensitive nipples as he draws them into his mouth.

Benji trails his mouth down my stomach, taking his time with me. Before I know it, he kneels back down so that he's eye level with my hips, kissing the rounded edges, nuzzling his cheek against my burning hot skin.

Hooking his fingers under the waistband of my white panties, he watches my legs tremble as he pulls them down, letting me step out of them in the process. He takes in a deep breath through his nose and lets it out, smiling at me. "Do you have any idea how delicious you smell?"

I shake my head, unable to speak with the way he's looking at my bare pussy, like it's his salvation. My breath hitches in my throat as Benji's warm fingers push their way between my lips, exploring the wet folds like a blind man reading a sign in Braille. I can't help but buck my mound against his hand, feeling more pressure start to build up deep inside. His fingers slide around the slickness before plunging them into my waiting hole. "Fucking beautiful," he says softly against my inner thigh.

I cry out as Benji’s tongue slides out of his mouth and around my clit, his fingers spreading my lips apart so that he can see exactly what he's doing. There's a heat that's surging though my blood, and when he slips in a third finger and begins to lightly suck on my clit, I come apart in erratic pieces, being hit with wave after wave of ultimate pleasure.

He leans back and pulls his fingers out of me with one last loud squick, and I let my shoulders fall back, unsure if I can hold myself up anymore or not.

But I don't have to worry about it because Benji grins up at me, scooping me up and laying me across my bed, yanking his shirt up over his head and undoing his pants. He slides them and his boxers off, his thick cock swinging between his legs.

I move so that he can join me, and he sits up against the back of the bed, pulling my hand until I position myself right over top of him.

"Take a seat," he says with a smirk, his cock curving up like an arrow directing me where to go.

I do exactly as I'm told, kneeling over him, while he uses his bulbous cockhead to part my slick folds, guiding it to my hot entrance. I slowly sink down on him, and I throw my head back as he fills me to my limits, throbbing deep inside of me. "Oh God, Benji. It feels . . . it feels . . ." I manage to squeak, moaning too much to finish my sentence as he bounces me up and down on his length. It's like I'm being impaled, in a very good kind of way.

"How does it feel, baby?" His voice is hoarse, controlled. He's trying to last as long as he can, but I can see the strain on his face.

"It feels so fucking good. Even better now than before." Stars are streaking across the back of my eyelids.

"I love when you talk dirty. I fucking love it," he growls. "And I love you."

That's all it takes for me to lose it, and I'm flying high over the edge of an invisible cliff, not sure where I'm going to land.

His breath catches as he sees me coming all over him, and he's fucking me even harder, not slowing down for anything.

"Yes, fuck yes." he yells out, grabbing my hips hard as he slams himself deep inside me over and over again, his cum sliding down both our legs.

We cling to each other, our foreheads together, our breath mingling. His heart is racing up against mine, and I finally realize this is what I've been waiting for.

The kind of inspiration that sets my brain on fire and begs me to make something happen with paints and brushes. My muse didn't run away . . . because he's been right here under my nose the whole time.

B
enji

"
O
h come on
. You need to step your game up. I'm secondhand embarrassed for you," Ramona says, laughing when she aims and gets the millionth headshot in a row, taking my guy out yet again.

Red spatters across my side of the TV screen and I groan, hiding my face behind my hands. "You're killing me, Cinnamon. My reputation has been thrown out the damn window."

She turns her head to look at me out of the corner of her eye, a smirk on her face. "Not my fault you can't concentrate."

I squeeze a nice handful of sweet ass, shaking my head at her because she knows that's a damn lie. "You are the exact reason I can't concentrate. I mean look at this," I say, giving her a good thwack. "Look how that ass jiggles. How am I supposed to think when you're lying on my bed all naked?"

Ramona purses her lips at me. "You're naked too, dummy. If I can control myself long enough to snipe, you can too..." she began, her voice trailing off when I roll over, my half-hard cock poking her in the side as I kiss along the delicate skin of her neck. "Or . . . not, you know."

I pin her in an instant, her soft round globes of beautiful rich brown skin topped with the perky nipples heaving as she looks up at me from under her thick lashes. And she wonders why I can't think straight. I want to bend down and taste her again because I bet she's getting wet already . . . she loves when I take control like this.

But her stomach growls loudly, interrupting the moment and I duck my head down, bursting with laughter. She giggles, and I move to give her a quick kiss on her nose. Since when did I give nose kisses?

"When was the last time you ate?"

I can see her flushing. "Last . . . night? Or lunch yesterday, I'm not sure."

I raise a brow at her. "I'm not even going to tell you how ridiculous it is that you forget to eat. You need to set a timer on your phone or something, baby." And since when did I do that?

Something flickers in Ramona's eyes and she nods, pulling me down for another kiss, her tongue trying to claim me for the countless time.

"No, no. You need to eat something, and now that I think about it, I'm hungry as shit too. How about I make us something to eat and some sweet tea? The real kind."

And now I'm cooking for her. Yep, it's official. I'm fucking whipped.

Her eyes light up and crinkle in the corners as she smiles up at me. "Okay. Just don't put too much sugar in the tea this time," she teases.

I hop up and walk into the kitchen, Ramona commenting behind me about how she hates to watch me go but loves to watch me leave. I shake my ass a little with each step, giving her a better show, and she lets out a whistle. I shake my head at her until I'm pulling out my small tea pitcher.

There's no point in me even getting dressed. I plan on taking full advantage of our clotheslessness as soon as I'm done making food. We'll eat our food but then I'll get to eat my dessert, the one right between her silky thighs. I start boiling the water, thinking about what I plan on doing to my girlfriend for the next day or so while we both have a rare day off together. I may not have paintbrushes to play with, with but I'm sure I can MacGyver something. My cock throbs at full attention now and I groan to myself, wishing she was in here to suck me off while I let the tea bags steep in the hot water. Her mouth is like the perfect size for my cock, bigger than it looks given how small she is. I'm just starting to imagine how good it's going to feel to fuck her mouth while I'm holding her hair back like the gentleman I am when my phone rings.

"Fuck," I mumble to myself, easily losing the boner I was just sporting when I see Coach Ridley's name.

"Hey Coach," I answer, slicing our hot ham and cheese sandwiches. I like to keep it real gourmet around here.

"Lundgren. Hope you're enjoying your day off, son. You got a minute to talk?"

I look around the room, shrugging my shoulders to myself. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

"I just got a call from Sean O'Malley over in London. He's Infantino's co-chair on the IFL board. They had some interesting news for me and I thought I'd pass it along."

IFL board? What the hell was he going on about? "Okay. I'm all ears."

Coach clears his throat. "So it seems that there has been a pretty big change recently made in the past couple days regarding their drafting regulations. Infantino himself is the one who cleared the vote, surprisingly enough. According to O'Malley, Dave revised the law to include active scout searches for international players outside of the IFL-participating countries. Do you understand what I mean?"

Okay, I may be a pretty face and all, but I'm not a fucking idiot. "Yes sir. They’re repealing the previous law about outsiders to the league being able to join up, right?"

"Yep, that's right. Not only did I find that out, but he gave me a heads up that one of the West Turkey United's top scouts for the team, Patrick Dunham, is already on his way over to America. They're coming to watch you play, Benji. There's been a lot of talk about them wanting to maybe recruit you as the first exception. Once your contract is up, I mean."

The knife drops from my hand, clattering to the counter, and Ramona calls out from my bedroom to make sure I'm okay. "I'm fine, no big deal," I yell out to her before turning my attention back to the coach. "Patrick Dunham is coming here, to L.A.? What . . . when?"

My coach laughs heartily into the phone. "Well, I just got a phone call today, so I'd imagine sometime this week. He's already on a flight out today, but I'm not sure if he's coming straight to L.A. or not. He may be going to a few other places first, but I doubt it. They want you first, like I said. What do you think about all that, son?"

I'm stunned, something that doesn't happen to me ever. "I, uh, wow. That's . . . that's amazing. But I mean, what about the Universe? I mean I'm doing okay there, right? There's nothing I need to change up or anything?" I say in a rush, not sure if coach is trying to get rid of me or what. I'm surprised he's taking this okay, considering there's a huge international team scout coming to possibly scoop me up right from underneath coach’s nose.

"Benji, I'll be frank with you. It fucking sucks for us. You know how good you are, I don't gotta tell you. But I've been keeping tabs on you, son. I know how much playing for West Turkey would mean to you, you only said it about a dozen times throughout your entire college career. I don't want you to get an even bigger head than what you’ve got on your shoulders, but I think it's pretty telling that IFL repealed this rule right around the same time you went pro, if you get what I'm saying. If I were you, I would seriously be considering my options here."

When I hang up the phone, I'm struck by just how insane the whole idea is. Not only is IFL repealing the one rule that held me back all these years, frustrating the hell out of me, but they're doing it possibly because of me. It's a lot to process, and I can't even begin to do it. I'm standing here naked in the middle of the kitchen with a plate full of food in one hand and 2 cups of still-warm tea in the other. I drop a few ice cubes in the cups and walk into the dining room, setting everything down on the table, still in shock.

How is this even possible? This is literally my entire dream, everything I've ever wanted. Everything that I've ever worked so fucking hard for is happening, I smile for no reason, staring at the wall in front of me, my head in my hands.

I mean of course they want to pick me, why wouldn't they? Like coach said, I worked my ass off and I'm constantly talking about wishing I could play for West Turkey. I'm like a walking billboard for them. I try to do a roster check in my head, wondering about each position that's available. I can't remember if center forward is available or not, but I'd be happy to play any fucking position at this point. I mean it's West Turkey United, for God's sake.

Oh man, Joshua is absolutely going to flip his fucking shit what I tell him about this. And Cal too, of course. Hell, I'm going to be telling everyone, probably standing on top of the Hollywood Hills, screaming at the top of my lungs.

Everyone called it, amazingly enough, as I remember back to the conversation my brother and I had about West Turkey United last time right before the draft.

My eyes drift down the wall back down to the table where the plate of food and two glasses of tea sit, waiting. All my enthusiasm and the high I'm riding at the moment fade away to something else. I look down the hall and catch a glimpse of Ramona's feet at the edge of my bed, right next to a whole bunch of posters up on my wall of my favorite team, ironically enough.

Oh no. My stomach drops and my chest tightens up, almost as if I'm having one of those panic attacks I've seen my aunt get sometimes . . .

What am I going to do about Ramona?