Fourth and Goal (25 page)

"Really? Then I need to try harder?"

"Absolutely."

He took out a can of whipped cream and grinned as her eyes zeroed in on it. He shook it, popped the top, and sprayed a small amount, covering each nipple. He topped each with a cherry.

"Derek.” She gasped for breath.

"Hmmm?” He stood back to admire his handiwork. “I sure as hell hope your brother doesn't make a return visit about now."

She started to sit up, horrified. His hand on her shoulder held her down. “Don't move.” He strode to the front door, checked the lock, yanked down the blinds, and returned to her side. He looked at her breasts. Bending, he popped a cherry into his mouth and chewed. Who'd have thought chewing could be so sexy?

"Hungry?” Derek grinned.

"Ravenous.” Rachel shifted her hips.

He straightened. “Why don't you have a little whipped cream?"

"Excuse me?"

"Touch your tits for me.” His voice was hot, low, and gravelly.

She slid a finger through the whipped cream and popped it into her mouth, then licked the tip. Derek watched her. His eyes dilated. His nostrils flared. The smell of arousal floated through the air.

"Is that what you wanted?” She gazed innocently at him.

"Don't stop now.” He ran his tongue over his lips.

She managed to clean most of it off her breasts and looked coyly at him. “I need help."

He didn't need a second invitation. He lapped greedily at her breasts, first one and then the other. Wads of whipped cream clung to his face.

"That feels so good,” Rachel gasped. She arched her back and writhed on the counter.

"Honey, I'm just getting warmed up.” His wicked smile made her wet, really wet. He moved lower. She spread her legs in invitation. Derek ran a finger up and down her wet slit.

"Dare,” she moaned and tossed her head back and forth.

"You're wet for me, baby. Do you think you're going to get lucky tonight?” He worked a long, thick finger inside her. She sighed and rotated her pelvis. He chuckled and added another finger up to his knuckles.

"Shut your eyes. Don't peek."

Squeezing her eyes shut, she gripped the edge of the counter and waited in sex-crazed anticipation. Something cold, really cold, touched her thigh. She jerked.

"What the—"

"Shhh. Just hold still. Keep your eyes shut. Trust me."

Her breath came in short gasps as he worked something inside her, something frozen. “Dare, what are you doing?"

She opened her eyes and tried to sit up. He pushed her back down. “You're gonna like this. Relax."

"It's cold."

He inched it in deeper. It had to be an ice pop, one of those phallic-shaped ones Cass liked to suck on to improve her technique, or so her friend claimed.

Just when Rachel was certain she couldn't take his erotic torture anymore, he pulled it out. Derek slipped the strawberry ice pop into his mouth and sucked on it. He brought it up to her mouth.

"Here, baby, you try it."

"You're kinky.” She pushed herself up to a sitting position.

"That's the name of the game. Are you complaining?"

"Not yet.” She opened her mouth to accept the ice pop, taking it as deep as she could. His eyes smoldered as he watched. Derek cleared his throat and absently stroked his cock. Bringing up his free hand, he wiped his mouth as if he expected drool. Power surged through her, the power of knowing such a simple but erotically symbolic act could send him into a tailspin. Her gaze flicked past his belly button and then back up.

"Want some candy, little girl?"

She laughed. “I thought I just had some."

"Oh no, that was barely an appetizer.” Gently he pushed her back down. Positioning his bare butt on the barstool, he grabbed his bag.

"Dare?"

"Open up for me, sweetheart."

"No more cold stuff."

"How about some hot stuff?"

"Now you're talking.” She waited with breathless anticipation. Staring at the ceiling, she resisted a peek. He dug around in his bag, removed something, and then his whiskers grazed her thighs. He parted her pussy lips. She felt him push something inside her with his tongue. “Oh. My. Lord. What is that?"

He didn't answer. Instead he poured a liberal amount of chocolate liqueur on her. At this rate they'd both be drunk on the stuff by midnight. Bending, he licked and nibbled. Then he sucked hard until whatever he'd put inside her slid back out. He sat up and moved to her head, kissed her, and transferred a maraschino cherry into her mouth with his tongue.
Very kinky
. She chewed and swallowed while he watched.

He dived back between her legs and added whipped cream to the chocolate. She shuddered as a wave of lust ripped through her. His head disappeared between her legs. His tongue explored, then focused on her clit while he slipped a finger, then two inside her. In and out, in and out, in and out. He built to a steady, fast rhythm, and she bucked her hips in response. Her breath came in short bursts as she fell over the edge and everything shattered around her. Someone was screaming, crying out Derek's name over and over.

It was her. She was the screamer.

Panting, she lay still. He watched, his eyes dark with need and something else, something fragile. Something that made her heart beat harder while an uninvited emotion took root deep inside. He brushed the sweat from her brow and the whipped cream from his face. She identified what she didn't want to identify in his expression. Tenderness. She turned her head away, not wanting to see anything but lust. Tenderness gave her hope, and she didn't need hope. They had no future. Why kid herself?

"When do I get a turn?” She spoke to distract herself from emotions too confusing and dangerous to explore.

"You want a turn?"

She nodded. He grinned.

"Just say the word. Where do you want me?"

He helped her up. She brought a hand up to his face and touched it. He kissed her palm and held it against his cheek.

Rachel pulled away, not willing to be under his spell and put her heart at risk. Not that it wasn't already at risk, but why make it worse?

She pointed to the counter. If it was good enough for her, it was good enough for him. He leveraged his cute butt onto the counter and waited expectantly for more instructions.

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"And that's a problem?” His dark eyes danced, pulling her in. “I'm at your mercy, baby. So show me none.” He lay on the counter, grabbed a kitchen towel to wad under his head, threw his arms out to the sides, and waited.

She had to laugh. What a goofball. Shaking her head, she picked up the liqueur and poured it on his penis. The damn thing waved in the air like a triumphant flag, conquering the lands as its own. The sticky liquid trickled down the shaft of his cock onto his stomach and balls. With the can of whipped cream, she covered his entire goalpost. It twitched as she bent and began to lick off the sweet stuff. Starting at the tip, she worked her way down to his balls. She played with them, then took one in her mouth and sucked gently.

What she lacked in experience, she'd make up for with enthusiasm.

When she was done, he'd be more than begging for mercy.

Derek moaned and clenched his fingers into fists. His head jerked back and forth on his makeshift pillow. His balls itched for action as much as his dick. “Ah shit. Rae."

Rachel bent again, and he dug his fingers into her hair. Barely in control, he ground his teeth and wrapped her long hair around his fist. He needed satisfaction and soon.

"Take me deep, baby.” Would she have the guts to try it? He held his breath, waiting.

She opened her mouth wide and managed about a third of his length before she gagged and pulled back. She licked a bead of precum off the tip, and he shuddered. With a determined expression, the little hussy went back down on him. One hand squeezed his balls, rolling them in her teasing fingers. Her other hand pumped up and down on the base of his dick. It touched the back of her throat. She pulled back so the tip was at her lips, then took him inside again. In and out, a little deeper each time.

Lord, he had to watch this. Holding her head in place, he sat up. “I wanna see."

He was in heaven, fucking heaven. Gripping that fistful of hair, he gently pushed down and urged her to take more of him. His boy tickled the back of her throat. She managed not to gag. He pressed on. She accepted. He helped her find the right angle for her head and neck. She'd swallowed almost half of him, better than a lot of women. He pulled out partially, let her catch her breath. Sweat dripped down her forehead. Her body shook. She breathed in deeply and went down on him again. Deeper this time. He fucking just about lost it. He exerted pressure on her head, felt her throat and mouth close around his cock, milking it, making love to it. He died a new death when she took him balls-deep. He held her head there for a brief moment, savored the erotic vision he'd carry with him for the rest of his life. His deep-throat virgin had just graduated.

He'd already been primed and ready after their sundae-building episode. Now he built toward something bigger and better. He tried to hold it in. His veins threatened to burst. His muscles bunched. Tension gathered in him like a storm crashing against a levee until the levee broke and the tension roared out. He couldn't stop when he started to come in her mouth. He closed his eyes, threw back his head, and let go. Her name was the only intelligible word that escaped from his mouth.

Instead of backing off when she felt the first twitches of his orgasm, she took him in her mouth and swallowed greedily. He pulled out slightly, emptying the rest on her tongue and her face. She took it like the pro she wasn't, or at least had never been. Her behavior shocked and pleased him. The first coherent thought to enter his mind was that she'd better never do this with another man.

"Where'd you learn to do that?” He lay there, spent, satisfied, and stunned by what she'd done for him.

She wiped off her face. Her chest heaved. Her mussed hair hung in clumps. “Romance novels.” Her ragged voice stumbled over the words.

"Damn."

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Blowing out a breath, Derek spotted Mitch McCormick standing on the sidelines of the high school's football field. He strode toward him.

Never let ‘em see you sweat
. Especially not Rachel's brother. Coming here was hard for him, not just because of his crazy schedule or how much Mitch hated him.

Yeah, he'd done Rachel wrong in her family's eyes. Perhaps even worse, he'd built up her confidence and encouraged independence they'd never allowed her to have. He'd undermined their control over her. She was supposed to stay the dutiful little sister, waiting on the men in her family and not entertaining stupid ambitions of being a woman in a man's sport. Maybe Derek had shot her down when she'd confessed her feelings, but he'd never shot down her dreams and ambitions.

As he approached, Mitch watched with his legs braced, hands folded over his chest. His expression remained closed, unreadable. The assistant standing next to McCormick grinned from ear to ear. The rest of the coaching staff gathered near Mitch in a show of support and solidarity. The cheerleaders across the field froze in midcheer and stared at him.

Mitch's team was suited up in their practice uniforms and doing their warm-ups on the field. Following their coaches’ lead, they stopped what they were doing as a unit and turned toward him. Every eye on the football field focused on him.

Derek knew his tall, exceptionally fit body branded him as a professional athlete. Despite being comfortable on a football field in front of thousands of fans, he wasn't entirely comfortable in the limelight. Unlike Tyler, Derek took his job as a role model seriously, putting even more pressure on himself.

Mitch broke away from the group and sauntered toward him, though the relief on his face told a different story. Derek met him halfway, out of earshot of his staff and players.

"Hey.” Derek held out his hand, making the first move. He had nothing to prove by being an asshole. He'd leave that up to Rachel's brother. Mitch hesitated, then shook his hand.

"I'd just about given up on you.” He met Derek's gaze.

"Sorry, my schedule's pretty tight.” Derek forced his voice to remain neutral. Mitch didn't need to know how hard this was for him.

"We won't take too much of your time."

"I'm all yours for the next two hours.” Derek pointed at the bag slung over his shoulder. “I brought some stuff. T-shirts, hats, should be enough for everyone."

Mitch glanced at the bag. “Yeah, well, I appreciate that, but it doesn't change anything between us."

"I don't expect it to. One doesn't have anything to do with the other."

"Then why are you here?"

Derek bristled but held his tongue. “You asked me to come, and I'm here. Introduce me to your staff, and let's get this show on the road."

Mitch stiffened but nodded and led the way back to the sidelines. Derek dumped the heavy duffel bag on the grass and waited for introductions. Mitch ran through each of his assistants, pausing to bark instructions to his players. “Hey, quit staring! Get back to work. Now! Everyone, run four laps around the field. Move it! Then get your butts back here."

Derek grinned in spite of himself. “You sound like your dad."

"Do I?” Mitch almost smiled himself.

"Yeah."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"I would. He's the best. I learned my basics from him."

Mitch tensed all the more. “You owe him."

His assistants stared at the two men, ready to intervene if necessary.

"Excuse me?” Derek frowned, confused by whatever the hell Mitch was talking about.

"You know what I mean,” Mitch growled, his voice low and menacing. “Do the right thing."

No, Derek didn't know what he meant. Shaking his head, he blew Mitch off and turned toward the field. Derek nodded in the direction of the kid maneuvering his wheelchair toward them. “That's him?"

Mitch deflated faster than a beach ball bouncing off a porcupine. “Yeah. Ryan DeGrazio.” The two men exchanged looks, which said it all.