Sidelined (8 page)

“Baby, I have a fourteen-inch double-pepperoni pizza and the biggest damn bottle of tequila I’ve ever seen in my life. Now, buzz me in so I can feed you and fuck you into tomorrow morning.”

Well, when he puts it like that…

I get up, press the button to unlatch the door, and hang up. One minute later, there’s a knock at my door and I open it. Immediately, my eyes fall to the pizza box.

“That better be a fourteen-inch pizza and not a typical male exaggeration on sizing.”

“Don’t worry, M. I know how you like things big.” He nudges at me, and I snap my eyes up, narrowing them.

“Asshole.”

He winks and nudges me again. I step to the side, opening the door so he can walk through.

“Did you get lemons?”

Jack sets the pizza and bottle down and slides his bag from his shoulder. He unzips it, and magically, pulls a bag of four lemons from it.

“You look like you’re staying.” I look pointedly at his bag.

“Came from practice.” He grins, sits down, and opens the pizza box. Unbelievably, he kicks off his shoes and swings his feet onto the sofa. Then he reaches for my remote control.

“Um, what are you doing?”

“Getting comfortable.”

“Well,
that
I can see. You are awfully presumptuous, Jack Carr—wait, what are you doing? Get that shit off my TV!” My voice hitches up a notch when he changes the program to Thursday Night Football.

“‘That shit’?” He chokes, looking at me. “I happen to play ‘that shit.’”

“Right, but I don’t know the first fucking thing about football and I have no desire to watch it, so change it back. Now.”

“To New Girl reruns?”

“Okay, one.” I hold up a finger and perch on the sofa. “There is nothing wrong with New Girl or reruns. Two, how the hell do you know what it was?”

“I have a sister. Kinda hard
not
to know what New Girl is.”

“You have a sister?”

Jack pauses, pizza crust poised by his mouth. “Yeah.”

“Oh,” I mumble, grabbing some pizza and shoving at his feet. “How old is she?”

“Twenty-three.”

“She’s older than me.”

“How old are you?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Twenty-two.” I pick some pepperoni off and eat it.

“I didn’t know that.”

“No shit.” I roll my eyes and hit his feet again.

He moves them so I can sit back then rests his calves on my thighs. I shoot him a sideways pissed-off look, but he simply grins and tears off a bite of pizza.

He’s such a fuckwit.

And there is still motherfucking football on my damn television.

I chew unhappily on my pizza—even if it is good pizza—because nothing could make football better. I feel like a three-year-old kid watching her dad build a playhouse for the backyard then, at the end, wondering how it happened. Every time the ball is touched down or…whatever else it is they do in this game…I wonder how it happened.

Not enough to ask, mind you. Just enough to huff and grumble under my breath at my peaceful night being interrupted.

I mean, I was totally planning pizza, tequila, and Mr. Jack Rabbit.

Oh, the irony in the fact that the only thing that’s switched out is the Jacks.

Jack’s legs leave mine—the real, human Jack—and he walks into the kitchen. I pick up another pizza piece because I can eat and, hey, I like pizza. Too much. But no judging. We all do, right?

“You look like you need this.”

I turn and look straight at a shot of tequila. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“I happen to like you drunk. You’re much less mouthy and much more cooperative.”

“That isn’t an answer.” Snatching the shot glass, I glare at him, and then I throw the liquid back.

“No, but that was.”

“Fuck you and bring me the bottle if you’re going to make me watch this shit.” I nod to the TV and settle back on the sofa. This time, though, I bring my own legs up onto the cushions. I’m not a freaking footrest, but Jack sure looks like he’ll be a good one.

He laughs and sets the bottle on the coffee table. He taps my toes twice, but I merely wriggle them in answer and grab the bottle. I unscrew the cap, staring at him, and tip it up. He lifts his shoulder in a careless half shrug, and before I know it, he’s grabbed my ankles, lifted my legs, sat down, and made me choke on the drink in surprise.

Again, he laughs, and it’s infectious. Or maybe it’s the tequila, because the deep, rumbling sound borne of his amusement crawls over my skin in a delicious way, and I giggle into my hand.

He leans forward, closes his hand over mine, and murmurs, “Baby, you need more pizza.”

“I already had three pieces,” I whisper.

“So have a fourth. This is a big-ass fucking pizza with a million slices.”

I glance at the box and then at him. A guy in L.A. telling a girl to eat?

Well, fuck me.

“You look like you’re waiting for me to pull out the salad.”

“Kinda am,” I admit, taking a fourth slice anyway.

“I would never make someone eat anything I wouldn’t eat myself.”

“How very chivalrous of you,” I say around a mouthful. “I wish your manners extended to the TV. Football is crap.”

In a split second, the pizza slice is ripped from my hand and I’m on my back. Jack slips between my legs and leans over me. His broad shoulders block out the glow from the lamp, and it bathes his profile in shadows.

I lick my lips, staring up at him. “What are you doing?”

“You keep tellin’ me football is shit, but, M, I’m gonna prove you wrong.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you are.”

“I am,” he breathes into my neck, his lips barely millimeters from my skin. “The fun thing about football,” he murmurs, touching his mouth to my pulse point, “is that it teaches more than a game. It teaches more than a touchdown.”

“Nuh-huh. Like what?”

Slowly, he kisses down to my shoulder. “Like pace.”

“And?”

“Desire,” he whispers to my jaw, pressing a gentle yet teasing kiss there.

“And?” My breath hitches when his hand slips beneath my head.

“And…” His mouth travels up my jaw to my ear. His nose brushes my earlobe. Then he tilts his head up. His lips brush there, too, and I close my eyes. “It teaches stamina, strength, and a determination for dominance.”

“Oh…”

“And these happen to be skills I apply to everyday life,” Jack continues, his voice low and husky, sexuality exploding with every word. “So tell me, baby. Is football shit?”

“I don’t know.” I open my eyes and gaze straight into his heated, green stare. “I haven’t had a physical demonstration of these skills.”

M
y lips curve up as I move them to cover hers. “Luckily for you, I’m more than fit to give you one.”

Macey curls her fingers around the back of my neck as my mouth closes fully over hers. Almost instantly at the touch, her body perfectly molds to mine. Her leg bends and hooks around my hip, her fingers at my neck tighten, and her other hand grips my hand at my side.

Almost instantly, my hips move down, and my hard cock presses against her soft pussy. She gasps, and the parting of her lips gives me the perfect excuse to flick the tip of my tongue against hers. Always responsive, she whimpers and opens her mouth to me. I sweep my tongue against hers, the tequila still tasting rich in her mouth, and explore every inch she lets me.

Through the kiss, her hands creep—one into my hair, one beneath my shirt—and I fight my smile. Damn. For the girl who I guarantee refused to call me out of principle, she’s not holding back one single fucking bit. So I let her let go. I allow her to sweep her fingers over my skin and twine my hair around her hand. I allow her to think she has a semblance of control in this situation.

“Call this a determination for dominance?”

Macey’s words make me smile, and I laugh.

“What?”

I sit up violently and bring her with me. She gasps, but I’m not done, because I spin and stand, her leg still hooked around me, and whisper, “Baby, hold on.”

She wraps her other leg around my waist, and I stand, lifting her with me.

“Oh, shit, Jack!”

I laugh into her neck and carry her through to her room. I kick the door so it slams shut behind us and all but drop her onto her bed. “How’s that for dominance, huh?”

Macey hooks her finger in the collar of my shirt and pulls my face to hers. Her dark eyes are on fire, begging and pleading me with more for more—just like I knew they would be.

“You call that dominance?”

I pull her into sitting position the second she finishes her sentence and tear her shirt over her head. She’s barely had time to breathe before I push her back down and hook my fingers in her skirt. I step back and pull it down her legs, leaving her lying before me in a fucking sexy-as-hell black lace lingerie set that sets off her tan skin.

And…fuck.

My cock is most definitely painfully fucking hard right now.

I rip my shirt over my head and throw it to the floor. Only touching her where our hips meet, I flatten my hands on either side of her head and look down.

“There’s a little of the dominance, M. Get ready for the stamina and pace,” I murmur huskily.

“A little?” Her voice is breathy and thick. “Pathetic.”

Bitch is taunting me.

Fuck. This.

I unclasp her bra and step back. With her eyes hot on me and her tits bursting free, I undo my pants and slide them down my legs. I then grab her body and flip her onto her stomach. A high-pitched squeal leaves her, but she doesn’t fight me. All she does is grip the sheet.

I shove my underwear down to join my jeans, which are bundled at my feet, and curve my fingers around the waistband of those fucking incredible black lace panties. Without care, I tug them down her thighs and over her calves until they’re free from her feet and lying in a heap of hotness on her carpet.

Then I kneel and part her toned thighs with my hands. She breathes something that sounds suspiciously like my name, but I ignore her and flick my tongue against her wet pussy.

Now, a moan that sounds completely like my name leaves her lips, and my dick throbs with the sound.

I roll the tip of my tongue over the opening to her gorgeous pussy and revel in the slight upward tilt of her hips. Wordlessly, she begs me for more, and when I roam my tongue across her clit, the breathy moan that falls from her drives me fucking crazy.

And I’m done.

I slide my hands up her thighs to her ass and stand. As a last-minute thought, I bend back down to pull a condom from my pocket and tear the foil so I can roll it on. When it’s on, I palm her ass and press the end of my dick against her wet opening. She grips the bed a little tighter, and I lean forward, holding my cock steady where it is, and take her hands. My palms cover the backs of her hands and my fingers slip between hers, and I rest my face against the side of hers.

My cock enters her harshly.

Macey half gasps, half moans, and I pause for a second, the throbbing of her tight pussy hugging my cock flooding through me in pleasure. Fuck, fuck, fuck. There’s nothing like being inside her.