Admit You Want Me Read online

  Satisfied with the way she lolled back against the mattress, breathing hard, I tugged off her shorts to reveal more matching lingerie. Did she color coordinate all her underwear? I’d never met a woman who did that before, but I was willing to bet she did. It was such an Emma thing to do. The sea-green panties joined their matching bra on the ground.

  She was totally smooth and hairless between her creamy white thighs, courtesy of some waxing studio somewhere. I’ve never really understood why women feel the need to do that, it sounds painful, but I would never complain. It made her feel even slicker when I rubbed her soaked pussy, parting her legs even wider to touch her swollen little clit.

  Emma’s eyes slipped shut while I petted her there, and soft, airy little noises escaped her that I didn’t think she realized she was making. She arched her back and lifted her hips against my fingers. Her mouth parted when I slipped a finger inside her, in and out, and then a second. I was only giving her shallow, gentle thrusts, though. Not enough to get her off, especially without spending more time working on her clit. Just enough to make her whimper and sigh and stare up at the ceiling like I was driving her out of her mind. Just enough to tease her.

  “Do you need some more?” I whispered against her neck. “Tell me what you need me to do with this perfect body of yours.”

  I wanted to hear her ask for it. Needed it.

  “I need you please,” she said in her bedroom voice, turning to look at me with half-hooded eyes. She’d never looked sexier with her hair mussed up around her flushed face. I kissed her soft lips, two fingers still inside of her.

  “What do you need me to do to you?”

  Another shallow thrust. Another little moan.

  “I need you to fuck me. Please. Now.”

  26

  Ward

  She didn’t have to ask twice. I stood up just long enough to slip off my jeans and roll on a condom. Her bright eyes widened as she stared at my hard cock.

  “Go slow, ok?” She told me when I got on top of her, keeping my weight on my elbows to avoid crushing her. “It’s, um, been a while for me, and you’re…” she trailed off blushing, seemingly too embarrassed to say ‘big’.

  “Ok.” I nodded. I knew it could be uncomfortable for some women to be with me, particularly at first. I’d do my best not to hurt her and I knew we’d fit. We had before, and we would again. I notched the tip of my cock against her hot wetness, heard her soft inhale, and drove home slowly, inch by inch.

  Her most intimate muscles squeezed around my cock like a vise, and I struggled with my promise to go slow. My whole body was urging me to move, to thrust hard into her and find the right rhythm to release us both, but I didn’t. I was good to my word. Although it almost hurt to stay still, I waited, watching her face for any sign of discomfort or pain. After a second she nodded, took a deep breath and opened her legs wider.

  That was all the invitation I needed and could wait for. My first thrust into her was slow, but not very gentle. She made a little noise that told me that she was not in pain. She lifted her legs up and wrapped them around my hips after a moment, digging her fingertips into my forearms and moving up against me. Within moments we’d both given up on slow.

  Slow was highly overrated anyway. Soon Emma was urging me on, pushing against me with just as much force as I was giving her. She wasn’t quiet when she got close. She found her rhythm quickly, slipping one hand between us to give her the friction she needed against her clit. There was something phenomenally sexy about watching her get herself off while I was pounding into her, and her high, breathy noise and pulsing muscles nearly pulled me over the edge right along with her when she came. I hadn’t had nearly enough of her yet.

  Once her aftershocks slowed to a halt, I pulled out of her and flipped her on her stomach. It wasn’t hard to do, she was loose-limbed and pliant now. Her round ass was silky soft under my fingers. When I spread her legs and reentered her from a prone position her pussy clenched around me again, taking me in like she missed me. I know I missed her. I’d been missing her my entire life.

  “Fuck, Ward,” she moaned again and again. I loved the sound of it.

  And I loved her like this, facedown and totally submissive. She rocked back into me, lifting that fantastic ass with each little upstroke and whimpering out my name again when I pushed deep back in. I pushed her hair aside and bit the back of her neck, and was rewarded by an even louder, sexy moan. She was bucking underneath me like a wild animal.

  When I slipped my own hand between her legs to give her clit attention, she ground against me shamelessly. She moaned a second orgasm out from my fingers, and her sweet little pussy clamped down around my cock with pulsing spasms. This time I couldn’t withstand the force of it. I came into her so hard I saw stars, emptying out all thought and feeling in an instant of blinding pleasure, and she was still whimpering and convulsing underneath me when my vision came back.

  “Christ woman,” I said after I rolled off her onto my back and caught my breath—probably a full minute later. “If that’s your idea of slow and gentle, I don’t think I’d survive fast and rough. I thought you were going to fuck me to death and you weren’t even on top.”

  Emma giggled, snuggling up under my arm and onto my chest. Her little hands were folded up under her head, and she looked up at me with soft, happy eyes. I pushed her fluffy hair out of her face and was rewarded with a kiss on my nose.

  “Yeah, but what a way to go,” she replied with a grin and a bemused shake of her head.

  I planted a kiss on her forehead, feeling sleepy and relaxed. The happy, comfy sex hormones were still cascading through my body, keeping any fear or doubt at bay for the moment. I tried to savor the feeling. I knew it wouldn’t last forever.

  I’m not sure how long we drifted there together in semi-sleep, but eventually I became aware that Emma had pulled on her panties and my t-shirt and covered us with a blanket. Something about the way she looked in my t-shirt was infinitely sexier than her lingerie had been. She looked so comfortable. And she looked so mine. That was what it was. In lingerie, she could be anybody’s. This was better. In my t-shirt she could only be mine. It was far more intimate and more real.

  It had been a long, long time since I considered staying the night with a woman. Not since Jessie ripped my heart out and convinced me that relationships were just lies. Relationships were manipulation pretending to be commitment. If love was real, it wasn’t for me.

  As a result, my time with the women I took to bed was generally measured in hours. Any more than that and I ended up regretting things when they inevitably got weird. The woman would get attached, start getting expectations… I did my best not to give them the wrong idea, and some were playing the same game and just out for a good time, but I’d still learned my lesson once or twice over the past few years. If I waited until the fun stopped, I was in for nothing but drama and pain.

  I was very much a leave-before-the-party-ended type of guy. Leave while you’re still having fun. That’s what my mom always said about birthday parties when I was a kid. I’d found that her sage advice applied just as well to hookups.

  “Are you going to stay for a while?” Emma asked lightly, reading my mind. Her voice was hopeful and inviting, but not pushy. She looked over at me carefully. “I can order us some pizza if you want. Lily is staying over with Ivan tonight.”

  I needed to tell her no, to get out of there before I got myself in real trouble, but I seemed to be paralyzed. Besides, I was still having fun. There was no harm in staying a bit longer. Right?

  “Sure, pizza sounds great,” I heard myself telling her. She smiled at me and grabbed her phone to order.

  “Any toppings you don’t like?” She asked me.

  “To be honest, I don’t remember,” I said, shaking my head at her. “I think you might have literally fucked my brains out.” And I wasn’t particularly clever to begin with. I was probably functionally impaired now.

  “Oh good, then you won’t mind if I get
pineapple and olives.” She looked excited.

  “Wait, what? No. Don’t you dare.” Surely, she was joking.

  “It’s really good. See the pineapple adds sweetness and acidity, while the olives—”

  “Nope. No. No way. That’s horrible.” There was no way she could talk that up. I might be dumb, but I wasn’t that dumb.

  “Ok, half what I want and half…” she trailed off looking at me expectantly.

  “Pepperoni,” I answered. Obviously. “With ranch dressing.” The way god intended.

  Her nose wrinkled at my condiment preference and I shook my head at her in dismay. She had literally no leg to stand on. She was legless.

  Pineapple and black olives? That wasn’t a pizza. That wasn’t even a food. It was a fucking travesty.

  Emma ordered her franken-pizza (having to repeat her revolting order three times to what I imagined was a horrified pizza shop employee) and stared up at the ceiling dreamily. Despite her bad taste in pizza, she looked completely relaxed and happy. Happier than I’d ever seen her in the few weeks we’d been working with each other. Given how tense and tightly wound she’d looked this morning, I liked to think I’d helped with her new-found good mood (although I may have played a role in the foul one too).

  Don’t kid yourself, Ward. My insecurity chimed in. You didn’t just do some kind of selfless, good deed. You’re treading on thin ice. Get out. Get out now.

  I ignored the negative little voice. Emma snuggled back in under my arm and reported that the pizza would be arriving in approximately forty-five minutes.

  “Ok, I’m gonna nap until then,” I told her. This earned me a sexy pout from Emma. “What?” I asked. “Are you so cock hungry you can’t wait for a man to recover?”

  She giggled, and her eyes glinted mischievously. “No. But I was going to go take a shower.” My ears—and other parts—perked up in a hurry. “How am I gonna wash my back if you’re just in here sleeping?”

  “Oh! Well why didn’t you say so,” I told her, sitting up and pulling her over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. I was repeatedly surprised by how light she was. Carrying her around was a lot easier than my cousin Jaimie, who was about her height, but brawny and stocky. Granted, she also didn’t try any weird WrestleMania moves like Jaimie usually did. Emma just laughed against my back and seemed surprised to be suddenly upside down. “Soaping you up is my specialty. Which way is your bathroom?”

  “I’m pointing at it, but I guess you can’t see me,” she answered, her voice muffled against my back. “It’s right down the hall. First door on the left.”

  27

  Emma

  If there’s anything in the world better than having a super-hot, naked guy wash your back after sexing you up, I haven’t found it. Shower time with Ward was pretty much total bliss. Also, my boobs had definitely never been cleaner. I wished that I could bottle this moment for later use, or better yet, reproduction and sale. I would be so stupid rich if I could.

  An hour later and we were lazing around on the couch, partially clothed, and eating pizza. There’s something so soothing about the afterglow. It’s almost better than the sex itself.

  “So, tell me, if you didn’t think you’d end up a barkeep, how did you end up owning the Lone Star Lounge?” I asked Ward in between bites of pizza.

  He looked at my pizza disparagingly before answering. “I bought it during my first season in the NFL. Temporarily, I had more money than I knew what to do with. A terrible problem, I know. But during that brief period of being incredibly rich, I made a few investments. The Lone Star Lounge was one of them.”

  “You mean you own other bars, too?” That was a surprise. I couldn’t imagine how he had the time. He seemed to give the Lone Star Lounge virtually every waking moment of his life.

  Ward shook his head. “No. The Lounge is the only business. I also have a couple of commercial and residential rental properties is all. Enough to provide me a nice passive income without requiring any real work.”

  “You’re a landlord? Yikes. Maybe you could teach mine a thing or two.” He could certainly use the instruction.

  “I’m not, no. I hire a property manager to do the landlord stuff. You have a sketchy landlord here, huh?” He looked unsurprised. I suppose my apartment complex could speak for itself. I couldn’t wait until my lease was up and I could move somewhere, anywhere, else.

  “Yeah he’s not exactly the greatest.” My voice was dry. Mentally, I ran through the list of still-unaddressed complaints I’d emailed about: bugs, leaky air conditioner, bugs, broken ceiling fan, more bugs, broken garbage disposal, broken dishwasher. Oh, and bugs. So, so many bugs. “On the upside, I’ve learned a surprising amount about home improvement while living here.”

  “Really?” Ward looked dubious, which I did not particularly appreciate. I was perfectly capable.

  “Actually yes,” I told him. “I’ve learned how to take apart a garbage disposal, repair a leaking toilet, replace a showerhead, and fix a messed-up cabinet hinge. I also know a lot about roach bait.”

  Ward smiled at me. “That’s a lot better than Kate can do. She called me once to help her replace her air conditioner filter.”

  “Was it up high or something?”

  “No, I think she just didn’t want to do it herself. Usually she lures me over with some easy task and then when I show up—bam—Ward, can you retile my bathroom? Ward, would you mind replumbing the kitchen sink into the new island that I also need you to build?” He shook his head. His smile, although long-suffering, was also indulgent. Also, his ‘Kate’ voice was hilarious.

  “I wish I had an older brother to con into impromptu home renovation,” I told him. “Kate’s lucky to have you.”

  “Be sure you tell her that the next time you see her,” Ward said seriously, but his smile broke through a second later. “She sometimes forgets.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said, thinking about all the nice things that Kate said about Ward when he wasn’t around over the years. “She’s pretty proud of you. I don’t think you’re likely to hear her say it, but she is.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Kate’s not one of those people who’s hard on the outside and warm and gooey on the inside. She’s hard edges and throwing elbows all the way down. She bought me one of those ‘world’s best brother’ mugs once when we were kids. Then when I pissed her off, she threw it against the wall. She was eight.”

  I giggled at the thought. It was totally believable to me, especially now that I knew about the Cole glitter incident. It was not a good idea to get between Kate and whatever it was Kate wanted. During our time working together in restaurants in college, I saw Kate put the fear of god in a woman who was talking on the phone while ordering a drink. She didn’t even need to say a word. She just glared the woman into hanging up and profusely apologizing. “Kate’s one tough cookie. There’s no doubt about that. I’m hoping some of her toughness rubs off on me eventually.”

  “You’re plenty tough,” Ward told me. “You stood up to me. You’ve always stood up to me.”

  “I’m not tough,” I admitted. “I’m just extremely snarky and irritable. There’s a difference. How did you put it? Warm and gooey on the inside? That’s me. I’m gooey inside. Like a marshmallow.”

  Ward smirked at me and reached out to brush a stray strand of my hair back over my shoulder. “I think you’re great.”

  My heart thumped in my chest. He likes me! “I think you’re great too.”

  “Except for your pizza preferences,” Ward amended. “That’s just fucking disgusting.”

  I looked down at my food and curled my hands around my plate protectively. “I like it. This is actually an inherited pizza preference. My parents like it this way so I grew up with it. My cousins like it this way too. The whole Greene family is out there ordering it. It’s gonna catch on eventually. Just you wait. It’s the next big thing.”

  Ward looked positively mystified. “There are more of you out there eating this abomination?”<
br />
  “Slow down professor! Don’t use those big words around little old me,” I joked. Ward was still hung up on the pizza.

  “That’s my line,” he griped.

  “Oh, please. You’re plenty smart,” I scolded. “I’ve got you figured out. The whole sweet good ole boy thing is just a ruse to make the ladies smile.”

  Ward looked at me affectionately. “If you want to believe that, I fully support it. It’s not true at all, but I like it.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “If you were really dumb, your business would have failed a long time ago. Clearly you’ve got something figured out.”

  “You didn’t see where I started from,” Ward argued. “Trust me, I came very close to bankrupting myself after my injury because I didn’t know how to adjust from unlimited income to zip. Actually, it’s sort-of a miracle I didn’t end up bankrupt. Almost eighty percent of NFL players declare bankruptcy within two years of the end of their careers.”

  “Wow, that’s horrible. Why?”

  “The same reason I did. You work your whole life, finally start seeing that fame and fortune start to happen, and it goes to your head. You spend money like it’s going out of style. And trust me, it isn’t hard to do. The lifestyle adjustment is beyond belief. You see what your teammates are doing and think that it’s normal to buy three Rolexes and a Hummer. Then there’s the women. There are a lot of women, and they aren’t just interested in finding love.” Ward’s voice was bitter. Whatever this Jessie woman had done to him, the damage still hadn’t healed.

  “I can’t even imagine,” I told him. “As someone who intentionally went into academia, knowing perfectly well that they pay is abysmal, I just pretty much expect to be poor forever. The thought of being able to buy whatever I want… it must be intoxicating.”