Pitching to Win (Over the Fence #1) (7 page)

“So what else? Stalk any Jane Austen characters lately?” I tease her. She’d told me earlier that Pride and Prejudice was one of her favorite books, and that she’d read it more than 15 times.

“Ha-ha, very funny. You’re no Mr. Darcy.”

“No, I’m definitely a Mr. Bingley. Which is so much better, since he’s the real dreamboat.” I bat my lashes at her, pretending to fawn.

“You read Pride and Prejudice?” I can hear the shock in her voice.

“Don’t act so surprised, your rudeness is showing.” She lifts her hands up as if to say she’s sorry. “Yes, I don’t live under a rock. I may have read it for school, but it didn’t suck.”

“If only your buddies could hear that you enjoyed an 19th century romance novel.” She chides me as she pops another pickle in her mouth. And if I keep thinking about pickles in her mouth I might die. Yes, the pre-pubescent boy in me can still  get hard hearing the most asinine of innuendos when it comes to Minka.

“Where else would I learn all of my woo-ing moves?” She throws a fry at me, which I promptly catch in my mouth. “But seriously, I read. I just finished the last ‘Girl With the Dragon Tattoo’ book. It was awesome, Swedes are badass.”

She blinks and then gives me a smile I swear would knock me off my feet if I was standing. “Those books are awesome.”

We eat the rest of our meal in relative silence, which is only broken up by brief small talk and her groans of satisfaction as she eats the entire cheesesteak. Its refreshing to hang out with a girl who doesn’t pretend she only eats kale and yogurt.

“Thank you for dinner.” She says with no trace of sarcasm at all.

Here's my opening. I mentally prepare myself for the rejection, when it hits me off guard in the side of the head. Shit, I hadn't even been able to get two words out.

"Owen, whatever you're doing. It's not going to work."

Charm, keep that charm. "What do you mean, gorgeous?"

Minka rolls her eyes. "This. Whatever plan you have. Listen, I actually do think you might be a nice person. But believe me when I tell you, not only am I not looking for anything, but I'm definitely not looking for anything with a superstar athlete golden boy."

I frown at her summary of me.

"Don't give me that face, you know where you come from. And again, it's not because you aren't nice. You've been nothing but kind since we met. I'm just not in your league, and I personally don't want to be there."

Well there it is. The underlying issue. This girl really does hate the popular crowd. Not that I blame her. And I also really hate that people lump me in there.

"I understand your...feelings about people like me, as you say. But give me a chance. You have no idea who I am. I like you, and I want to get to know you more. By shutting me out now, you are basically judging me the same way you think 'people like me' judge you."

I can see her warming to the idea. She knew that she was doing to me exactly what had been done, or what I assumed had been done, to her for years.

“Fine. But only because you played the ‘don't judge a book by its cover’ card. And I love books." She gives me a small smile. "So....I was planning to do a complete Lost marathon on Netflix. You could stay if you want….”

She’d left the door open and there was no way I was going anywhere. “Well that depends. Are you Team Jack or Team Sawyer?” I eye her, plastering my big-time flirt smile on my face and placing my chin on top of my hands.

“Team Jack, all the way. He and Kate are meant to be together.” She answers quickly and vehemently.

“Ok, then I can stay.” I nod, making a show of relaxing my body, “While Sawyer is a total badass, Dr. Jack Shephard is my ladies-man idol.”

Minka glowers at me. I follow her into the living room after she dumps the dishes in the sink.

Rounding the corner, I see the couch that held the memories from that fateful afternoon. She catches my eye, and as if she can read my thoughts, raises her brows suggestively at me.

Woah….is she taunting me? My dick does a happy jolt, wanting very much to be in between her legs, pressed up against her heat on that couch. I adjust myself when she turns around. I really don’t need her bolting now, and take a seat more towards the middle of the it, hoping she’ll sit close enough so I can feel her smooth body.

She jiggles some wires in back of the TV and grabs the remote, setting up the streaming on her Netflix app. Now this isn’t an insult to girls, but I know plenty who have no idea how to turn on basic cable. The fact that Minka sets up the entire thing herself has me semi-hard. Chicks who know technology are a turn-on.

She settles on the couch, and isn’t sitting on the opposite end, but also isn’t close enough to touch either. She presses some buttons on the remote, and suddenly we are falling from the plane onto the deserted island. I study her out of the corner of my eye, itching to wrap my arm around her slim shoulders, massage the skin under my fingers and feel it go warm under my touch.

She’s tuned into the show now, so much so that she gasps when the engine on the beach explodes, forcing Hurley to grab the pregnant chick. Meanwhile over on my side of hell, you could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

It's like there is this electric current running in the empty space between her and I on the couch. I want to breach it so bad, but don’t want to send her fleeing like last time. I ignore my stupid manly urges and try to focus on the TV. She asked me to stay, and I don’t want to jeopardize my chance by doing something horny and idiotic.

By the time Jack is getting stitched up by Kate, Minka and I have slowly inched into the valley that spanned between us. Her thigh is so close to mine now that I can feel the goose bumps running down my legs to the balls of my feet. Her scents wafts over me; citrusy and fresh yet sweet, like flowers. Its driving me insane. I want to bury my face in her neck and hair, hear those whimpers she made for me when she was on her back in this very spot, my fingers milking her orgasm.

But, I’ll settle for cuddling. Hell, I would settle for being allowed to just look at her for several hours. But….I want to touch her so bad it hurts….so the bastard I am makes a break for it.

Slowly, and with all the control I can manage, I lift my right hand up to my ear, scratching a fake itch. I hesitate with it there, my elbow in mid-air, and slowly arch it back as if I’m stretching, all while fake yawning in the process.

Great. I’ve basically reduced myself to a 12-year-old trying to touch a girl for the first time in the movie theater. But Minka just makes me so nervous, something I’m quickly learning that I actually like. No girl has ever made me feel like this, and I want to know why she does. I groan inwardly, but keep going, because there is no way I’m pulling back now.

Finally, my arm lands on the back of the couch with a soft thud, and its more like she’s sitting in my embrace rather than snuggling. I let out a whoosh of breath, realizing I’d been holding it, waiting to see how she would react.

Minka looks cautiously at my arm draped over her space, and then swings those beautiful eyes up to mine. I see amusement in them, and a smirk dusting her pouty lips. Without saying anything, she burrows into my side, moving closer, and drapes her arm across my stomach.

My heart starts spasming and jumping for joy as I curl my arm protectively around her and adjust so that her head is in the crook of my neck. I try to forget that her hand is dangerously close to the tool between my thighs desperately calling for her.

We sit conjoined like this for the next two episodes, not talking but simply watching and enjoying each other’s company. I’ve never hung out with a girl without the purpose of it leading somewhere. It feels nice.

While I may want to strip her naked and get my mouth all over her, that’s the understatement of the year, there’s no pressure on the situation. Which is strange.

When I’m hooking up with a girl, because I rarely ever hang out with them on a platonic basis, there is always a clock on it. I want to get in them, get us off, and get them out of my room. I don’t usually want all of the strings that come attached to anything more. But Minka could make me her goddamn puppet and I’d be so fucking happy.

Allison was my only true girlfriend, and with her, we’d been horny teenagers trying to prove something. We would go at it, not smoothly or successfully either, whenever we had alone time.

We weren’t really interested in what the other liked or had to say, because in truth, we were just using each other. I was popular, she was popular, people expected us to date. I liked the perks of having a girlfriend, and she liked wearing my jersey.

In college, I’d had my fair share of drunken hook ups and groupies throwing themselves at me, but it was all empty. The entire time I fucked one of them, I was worrying about how I’d talk her out of my bed after.

Netflix begins to cue up episode four, and I wave of panic hits me in the chest as I realize how late it is, and that I’ll have to let go of her soon. I tighten my arm around her, gently nuzzling the top of her hair.

“You feel amazing.” I blurt out as I rub my fingertips up and down her silky arm. So much for not scaring her away, asshat.

Minka chuckles. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Washboard.”

“Checking me out, eh? Does that mean I can return the favor?” I angle my body to semi-leer at her, which earns me a gentle swat to my cheek. I quickly cover her hand with my own, loving the feel of her soft palm caressing my stubble.

We stare at each other, a buzz starting to form in at the top of my spine. It’s like my whole body is vibrating I want to kiss her so bad. I watch her big brown eyes drop to my lips, and my heart hammers against my rib cage. Slowly, I remove my big hand from where it dwarfs hers on my cheek, and reach for her heart shaped face.

I frame it delicately, reveling in how her smooth chin feels in my rough hands. Minka leans into my touch, her upper body facing me now, legs tangled with my mine as we sit intertwined. I run my thumb along her cheekbone, feeling my skin spark with yearning as I go. Her eyes fill with lust, and a bit of apprehension, but not enough to stop me from my perusal of her skin.

It seems like hours that I sit there, just feeling her face under my fingertips, mesmerized by her eyes.

A sensation in my chest has me anxious, only because I’ve never felt it before. When I look into Minka’s eyes, its as if she’s seeing me, right down to the soul. Like with her eyes she’s saying, “I understand you. Your fears, your doubts, what makes you tick.”

And it should scare me, especially because we’ve barely spent any time together, but oddly, it's like a puzzle piece has locked into place. We sit there, feasting on each other’s eyes, roaming the other’s face, and all I can think is,
complete.

I crane my head towards hers, never breaking eye contact, and hear Minka’s sharp intake of breath. Goosebumps trail down my arms and I’m literally shaking with the need to take her lips, fast and hard, but I hold myself back with all of the control I can muster.

I don’t want to scare her, I want to do this right. I trail my thumb from her temple down to her jawbone, stoking her skin and forcing her to pucker her lips toward me. Her eyes flutter closed, as if she’s waiting for me to close the gap and initiate. But I can’t seem to. All I want to do is stare at her, like this, so ready and full of anticipation. The build up is almost as good as actually kissing her.

I move a fraction, feeling like I’ll explode if I don’t kiss her now, and seal my lips over her soft and delicate pair. And fuck, this is so much better than the build up. She rubs her lips over mine, and I feel my dick go rock solid in my pants.

I slide my lips over every inch of hers, angling my head to taste her in slow, lazy kisses. Inside my chest, my heart is keeping a frantic beat, and every time she makes a breathy sigh when we come up for air, I feel little electric jolts of need pulse through my body.

I can feel her getting bolder, beginning to bite at my lips, which sends every ounce of blood in my body directly to the massive hard on I’m sporting. I have to slow her down or I’m going to get carried away. I already want to swallow her whole as it was. But her tongue is now doing a damn sexy twist with mine, thrusting into my mouth like I’d imagined thrusting into her tight body.

And now she’s pulling away. Eyeing me with a potent stare, her hands go to the hem of her cotton shirt. My mouth is dry and my hands begin to tingle. I want to touch her so bad in the place she’s soon to reveal to me that I might convulse. I probably look like a jonesing drug addict instead of the debonaire stud I’m going for. I should stop her, but I’m frozen.

And then its off. The little brown wisp of a shirt flutters over her head and to the floor. And now I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.

I
sit there
, naked from the top up, as Owen stares at me. He looks like a starving animal about to devour me, but all he can do is sit there with his jaw hanging open, staring at my now very alert nipples. And it makes me feel oddly…powerful.

Powerful is not something I ever felt with Gregory. I always felt like I was being dragged under the ocean, willfully going with the current but not in control of my own body. And now that I felt this power, I was
almost
not regretting my bold decision.

I’m very aware that I am a walking cliche. One minute I’m warning him off, and the next I’m stripping for him so I can be completely naked for his hands to roam over me.

But the way Owen was kissing me with such care, mixed with such scorching heat, lit something up inside of me and started burning down all of my defenses. I was tired of denying my body what it wanted, what I wanted, because of a stupid decision I’d made years ago. I wasn’t going into this blind, and I could protect myself from falling for Owen. I just wanted his body.

This had nothing to do with the fact that he’d brought me a cheesesteak from Mitch’s. I didn’t hear my heart sigh and dramatically swoon when I’d opened the door to that familiar smell. Damn traitorous heart.

I’m still posed there on the couch for him, and I start to feel too exposed. He’s still just gaping at me, and I have the urge to cross my arms over my naked breasts. I start to move them when he says, “No don’t. I’m sorry…I’m just staring at you like an idiot…..but Jesus. Minka you’re incredible.”

He reaches out tentatively and grazes his hand on the outer part of the right mound, causing goosebumps to break out over my skin. I whimper and close my eyes, because his fingers whispering over my skin is already undoing me and he isn’t even really touching me.

Slowly, he bends forward, molding both hands over the tips of my breasts and tweaking my nipples, not gently, but not painfully either. The pressure is exactly what I need, and I arch my back, sending them more firmly into his hands.

Then he starts licking and sucking my collarbone, which gets me even more turned on than I already am. I imagine him licking and sucking me where I ache, and more wetness floods the lace boyshorts that I, thank god, am wearing.

His tongue begins to scale my neck, and when it gets to the certain spot that shoots heat straight to my core, I let him know, “Yes, right there.” I groan as he fuses his lips to my skin.

He lifts his head, his blue eyes now molten, the color of an ocean in the eye of a storm. “You like when I kiss that spot, huh?”

Lowering his head to my nipples, he never breaks eye contact as he latches onto one. Its erotic and embarrassing at the same time. I want to look away, but am so mesmerized by what he’s doing, and what that was doing to my already soaked panties, that I simply can’t.

Whenever Gregory and I had done anything, the lights were off. He hadn’t bothered to talk or look at me. If this is what everyone experienced during sex, which we were far from, I now got why they made such a hoot about it.

My skin is on fire as he kneads my nipples between his lips and teeth, working me up and then pulling away periodically to study me or place a scorching kiss on my lips. His hair is tousled from my fingers running through it, and I can’t wait any longer to see what’s underneath those clothes.

I try to push him back and sexily undress him, but end up pawing his back awkwardly when he won’t take his mouth off my breasts. I let him continue his oral exploration while pulling at his shirt.

“God, you’re always trying to get me naked.” He jokes and pulls his t-shirt over his head.

I suck in a gasp and can’t help it when my hands immediately fly to his stomach, tracing and massaging the lines of his glorious abs.

“Ah...fuck.” Owen flinches as I continue touching him. I look up when he curses, fearing I’ve done something wrong, and meet his eyes. “You have to stop.”

I bring my fingers quickly back to my lap as if I’d been burned. I was doing it wrong. I could feel the shame creep into my cheeks.

“No, no, Minka. Not because it doesn’t feel good. Shit.” He looks apologetic and frantic, which brought some relief. I wasn’t the best at this, but I was trying so hard to make this good for him. “I just…..if you keep touching me like that, this is going to be over way too soon.”

I snort, finally understanding his discomfort.

“No please, laugh at the guy who just admitted he was about to come in his pants. Makes me feel so much more macho.”

I lean in, cupping his face and taking his lips with my own. For some reason, around Owen, I feel brave. Sure, he made my stomach do flips, and his drop-dead gorgeousness made me dizzy, but I didn’t feel like that young, inexperienced girl who had gotten in over her head. I wanted to take control, have the normal experience all high school girls were supposed to have.

I pull him down with me as I lie back on the couch, and he moves so that we are laying side by side, my breasts pushed against his magnificent pecs. His skin is hot against my front, making my nipples impossibly harder.

His mouth moves over my mine, his tongue controlling the kiss. My head was spinning, and when he eased out and bit down on my lip, a guttural sound cut the air. I didn’t even realize it had come from me until he was attacking my mouth, growling down my throat.

I felt his hand brand my hip, kneading and caressing the skin overtop my bone. With every swipe, I felt my clit throb. I could feel how heavy and hot it was against the lace fabric every time I writhed against him.

As if hearing my silent pleas to move further south, his hand slips under my waistband. I was so worked up, I didn’t even care that we were back in the same place we’d been two weeks ago. I wasn’t questioning this, it felt too good. Let regretful and angry Minka surface later.

His fingertip brushes my clit, and just that touch sends a lightning bolt up my spine. I choke out a cry of relief, and then a long moan as he circles two fingers around the sensitive nub.

“You’re so fucking wet. Fuck…” I can hear him groan into my neck, where his head currently rests as he eases a finger inside me. Oh god, that feels good. Heavenly. It had been so long since someone other than myself had touched me there.

And Owen was amazing at it. He touches me reverently, like he’s worshipping every section of my skin. He knows exactly where to press, where to stroke, so that in minutes, I am so close to release I can feel the familiar tingling in my belly. I’m shaking like a leaf in his arms, my body so tense, it was resting on a peak that I was about to tumble over.

He begins to kiss me, his lips coating mine and sending my nerve endings sparking. “Come for me, Minka.” He breathes raggedly into my mouth. His words send me tumbling head first into the sensations. I tense for split-second, all of my focus zeroed in on his fingers pressing against my clit, and then the orgasm hits me.

I gyrate against his fingers, my nipples brushing the light smattering of hair on his chest, and bury my face in his neck. My orgasm reaches into every crevice of my body, melting into my skin, and I stretch with it from my fingertips to my toes, trying to hold on to every last second of it.

My breathing slows and I bring my head up to look at Owen. He eyes are smoldering, switching back and forth from my own as if he was trying to watch the last of the orgasm drain out of me.

“That was…...the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He kept up his search in my eyes while I grinned like a moron. It was the best thing I’d ever felt. And all I wanted to do was return the favor. Make him feel as good as I felt. And maybe, just maybe, prove to myself that I could do this. I could make someone unravel.

Putting a sultry expression on my face, or as sultry as I could muster, I place my hands back on his abs, feeling the ridges and his muscles contracting under my fingertips.

“You don’t….you don’t have to do this.” Owen says, doubt and hope mixed in his breathy declaration. I continue my exploration of his chest, while at the same time silencing him by sealing my lips over his.

I tease his lips, coaxing him and trying to mimic everything he’d just done to me. “I do what I want.”

Anxiety, and something else, maybe power, swim in my veins as I slip my hand further down, inching my fingers past the elastic band on his basketball shorts. I feel his stomach tighten, and he steals the breath out of my mouth as he sharply inhales into our kiss.

I break away from his lips, too nervous and focused on concentrating on where to put my hand. I was going blind, too embarrassed to look down and correct my movements, when my hand connected with something hard and fleshy.

“Ahhhh,” Owen grunts as I realizes I’ve brushed the tip of him.

I circle him with my hand and tugged gently upwards, feeling a bead of wetness drip onto my semi-closed fist.

“Fuck…..Minka...hmmm,” Owen’s talking in non-words now, reassuring my confidence and causing me to pick up my motions.

After I travel up and down his rigid cock a couple more times, I can feel his breathing get ragged as he buries his face in my neck, nibbling lightly at the skin there. I still wasn’t sure if I was making him feel good, so I said so. “Is this…am I doing it right?”

He lifts his head, his brown locks falling into his eyes, which now assessed me with raw hunger. “This is the best fucking thing I’ve ever felt in my life, and all you’re doing is jacking me off. Yes, you’re doing it right. You’re doing it the best way it's ever been done.”

I give him a small smile even though, inside, I’m beaming with pride. I begin my motions again, picking up the pace when he growls at me to go faster. Before I know it, he’s making the sexiest noises, that also happen to be waking up my exhausted libido. He’s a drug, Owen, one I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get out of my system.

“Minka, Jesus…..I’m going to come.” He lets out a low, husky sound as he pumps his hips to meet my hand when it moves down to the base of him.

I try to keep the same fast pace, holding my breath in my anxiousness to please him. His eyes lock onto mine in a scorching stare, and I feel my cheeks color. I can’t look at him while I do this. I cast my eyes down and concentrate.

“Look at me. I want your eyes.” He grasps my chin and drags it up so that my eyes are inches from his, both of us locked onto the other. At the same time, I feel his breath stutter on my lips, his hips jutting wildly.

“Yeah…..fuck, Minka.” He’s coming, and I feel his wetness spread over my fist as he slows his pumping hips, his eyes still on mine but now glazed over in his satisfaction.

We lay like that, his legs tangled with mine, my hand down his pants covered in his come, our faces floating mere centimeters away from each other, for a very long time. He’s breathing me in as he recovers, and my mind is going a mile a minute. What does this mean? Why can’t I stay away from him? Why am I still so turned on? Can we please do it again?

Owen chuckles and presses his forehead against mine.

“Why...why are you laughing?” Fears grips me right in the gut for a few seconds. Until he responds with the cockiest answer I’ve ever heard.

“I need to bring you cheesesteaks more often. Like everyday. Putting it in my calendar now.”