Chapter Thirteen

AJ

The stands are packed with fans as the Marching Eagles take the field for their halftime routine. I shouldn’t be surprised to see my grandparents here, but I am. Rarely do they attend sporting events; at least they haven’t much since my sisters and I all graduated.

“That man is pure sin,” Grandma bends down and whispers in my ear. And because she’s sitting directly behind me, she has a front row seat to our second date. Not that they know that tiny detail. “Have you played bedroom baseball yet, AJ?”

I glance round at the surprised faces of those sitting to my right and in front of me.

Obviously, Grandma’s whisper needs a little work.

“This is hardly an appropriate location for this discussion,” I mumble, turning to where the girls are conversing on the sideline.

“But look at that ass,” Grandma murmurs happily.

When I follow her line of sight, I see Sawyer heading this way, sliding down our row, greeting and chatting with every person who stops him. You can tell he’s used to being recognized and goes with the flow. He visits briefly with Mr. Stewart, our principal, his hands full of drinks and snacks from the concession stand.

His back is turned to us, which gives us the perfect view of his deliciously hard derrière. And we’re not the only ones appreciating the view. Every female in our section (hell, in the entire bleachers, really) happens to be glancing his way and ogling the fine specimen of man that is the new teacher in town. Not only does that tidbit make him prime gossip material, but throw in the fact that he’s the Sawyer Randall, and suddenly everyone is buzzing for details.

“If you don’t stop staring, your face will freeze that way,” Grandpa says from beside his wife.

“What face?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at one of the two men who raised me.

“That lusty I want to drop my drawers and do dirty things to the baseball player face,” Grandma chimes in. My jaw drops to my chest in a combination of surprise and embarrassment. Grandpa just nods in agreement. Everyone around me snickers and giggles.

Awesome.

Sawyer slides onto the bleacher beside me, only to jump up right away.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I just set my hand down on the bleacher for a rest,” Grandma says, all too familiar smile on her face. She has that guilty I-just-copped-a-feel look.

“Resting your hand?” I mumble as Sawyer takes his seat beside me.

“I had to, AJ. Call it research,” she says, happily watching the marching band perform.

Sawyer hands me a bottle of Coke and a bag of popcorn, before turning and offering some to my grandparents. “Sorry it took so long,” he says, leaning in to me to be heard over the band.

“It’s okay. The price you pay for being famous,” I tease.

“Yeah, everyone is my friend,” he replies, a slight sarcastic tone bubbling to the surface. I’m sure it’s difficult being a professional athlete, not knowing if someone is real or just pretending to be your friend to get what they can out of you.

“I’m your friend,” I say under my breath to keep the conversation on the lighter side.

“You are definitely not my friend,” he whispers, reaching over and grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bag in my hand.

“I’m not?” I ask, grabbing a few kernels and popping them into my mouth.

Leaning my way, I feel his warm breath against the shell of my ear when he replies, “I don’t want to fuck my friends.”

My blood swooshes in my ears and I can feel my face heating. Electricity courses through my veins like lightning, wetness pooling between my thighs.

“That was hot,” Grandma whispers in my ear, making me groan.

Sawyer glances at me with one eyebrow raised. “They have excellent hearing,” I concede and wait for the moment he realizes what I mean. When he gets it, his cheeks turn a cute shade of pink before he cracks a smile.

“Duly noted,” he replies, turning his attention to the field.

“Back when AJ was seventeen, Meggy spent the night at a friend’s house, so AJ thought she’d sneak her boyfriend into her bedroom after everyone went to bed.”

I groan an interruption, knowing what story is coming. “Please stop.”

“No, I think I need to hear this,” Sawyer begs, laughter laced in his ocean blue eyes.

“Anyway, AJ and her boyfriend had just started to get busy in her bedroom. We could hear them through the walls, you know, so Grandpa waited in the hallway for them to reappear so he could sneak back out. They were so young, so it didn’t take long, you know? Anyway, as soon as that young man stepped out of the room, Grandpa asked him if he had another rubber because he was out.”

Laughter bursts from Sawyer’s throat. “I was mortified,” I murmur, trying to focus on anything else around me other than the humiliation happening beside me.

“The best part was that poor young man was so flabbergasted that he actually dug into his wallet and pulled out a peter cover for me to use,” Grandpa adds while fighting his own laughter.

“Then we made them come down to the kitchen and eat ice cream with us,” Grandma states proudly.

“You shared a drumstick and grossed us both out with your inappropriate groaning and licking,” I recall, the popcorn settling like a lead brick in my stomach.

“It was summer and we were hot,” Grandma argues. “It’s not my fault it was dripping down the side and required extra licking.”

“He broke up with me the next day,” I remind them.

“Serves him right. He wasn’t good enough for my little Alison Jane,” Grandpa adds with a decisive head nod.

Grandma’s face softens and she gives me a knowing look at the reference to my given name. Hearing it as an adult doesn’t hurt as much as it did when I was younger, mostly because, for so long, I could still hear my mom saying it. The authoritative tone mixed with the love in her voice as she called my name.

“Anyway, that’s true. He wasn’t good enough for AJ. I believe he ended up dropping out of junior college and flipping burgers at that fast food joint uptown,” Grandma says as I shovel popcorn into my face like I haven’t eaten in a week.

“He was the day manager last time I talked to him,” I mumble over the mouthful of popcorn.

“Well, good for him,” Grandma says cheerfully. “But he’s nothing like our Sawyer here,” she adds, patting him on the shoulder, and if I’m not mistaken, gripping and rubbing a little too long on the muscles of his upper back.

“Your Sawyer?” I choke, trying to get the food down my throat.

“Yes, I called dibs after seeing that spread in SI. Sawyer, tell me, how many takes did it take to get the angle of that glove just right?” Grandma coos at the man beside me, a wicked little gleam in her wrinkled eyes. “Did you have a fluffer?”

And now I’m choking on popcorn. It gets lodged in my throat as I sputter and cough, trying to get the food down and the air in. Sawyer leans over and gently beats on my back, his face a horrible shade of red as he tries to hide his own amusement and blushing.

“Uh, no ma’am, no fluffer was required,” he sputters, trying not to laugh.

“It wasn’t porn, Grandma!” I chastise under my breath as those sitting around me try not to look like they’re listening to our conversation, but fail miserably.

“Well, my body still reacted, AJ. And the images I had later that night were definitely more along the lines of pornographic.” Grandma smiles wickedly, as if recalling something that would probably require years of therapy for me to overcome.

“I capitalized immensely that night, I believe,” Grandpa boasts like a proud peacock.

“And you’re gonna capitalize again tonight, Orvie,” Grandma coos, reaching over and rubbing my grandpa’s thigh.

“I’m going to throw up,” I mumble. “See? This is why they all leave. No one sticks around when they meet my grandparents,” I whisper to Sawyer.

“Maybe the reason they don’t stick around is because they weren’t the right guy,” Sawyer suggests, his head leans toward me, his lips dangerously close to my own. “Notice I’m not going anywhere.”

“You should. You should run away.”

He reaches over and links his fingers with mine. “Not happening, Alison.” His whispered voice is soft and gravely. It makes my lady parts hum and my heart pirouette in my chest.

Something tells me that this man doesn’t scare easily, which is a plus if you’re gonna withstand the craziness in this family. My mind turns to Josh, Ryan, Dean, Levi, and now Linkin, all men who weren’t frightened off by the loose tongues of my grandparents or their over-the-top gestures and gifts. It’s way too soon to make such a statement, so I won’t say it aloud, but a part of me (a very big part) wonders if maybe Sawyer is one of the few willing to endure the outrageous and stick around after the bedsheets have cooled.

Only time will tell.

The second half starts with the Eagles kicking off to the rival Bobcats. As the minutes wind down in the third quarter, then the fourth, the score remains close. So close, in fact, that as we hit one minute to go in the fourth, the Bobcats score a field goal, giving them a two-point edge.

With fifty seconds on the clock, the Eagles field a kick deep and run to their end zone. Tackles are broken, blocks are made, and yards are gained as our team attempts to score before the clock runs out.

Thirty, twenty, ten yards to go.

He dodges one final defender and dives for the end zone.

Touchdown!

The crowd goes crazy as the Eagles secure a homecoming victory. We all jump up, popcorn flying through the air, screaming and cheering for the home team. Large, warm arms wrap around my waist moments before I’m pulled into a rock hard chest. I don’t even care that it’s like walking into a brick wall. All I know is that Sawyer’s arms are hugging me in celebration.

Or anticipation.

Maybe he realizes that the end of the game means the beginning of the rest of our night. I mean, I pretty much already agreed to go home with him yesterday in his office. Perhaps he’s anxious to get to phase two of our second date: the bedroom.

However, when I look up, I don’t see the anticipated hunger in his eyes. I see happiness. It’s like he’s truly ecstatic for the boys on the field. And that would make complete sense because he’s an athlete. He appreciates each win and the hard work that goes into achieving them.

“Well, Grandpa promised me naked ring toss, so we’re going to head out,” she says easily as she gathers up their garbage.

Sawyer glances down at me with so many questions in his eyes, and as much as I’d love to explain it to him, I just can’t. It’s my grandparents. And I’m pretty sure naked ring toss isn’t a round of the traditional ring toss you may have played at birthday parties. So I shake my head and pray that he doesn’t bring it up later.

“Be careful going home,” I state, offering my hand as we make our way toward the steps on the bleachers.

Grandma links her hand with Grandpa’s and together they descend the steps until they reach the bottom. They’ve always been an overly affectionate couple, but the sight of them tonight, with their warm embrace and adoration for each other in their eyes, makes my heart flutter in my chest. I want what they have; I just haven’t been looking for it in the right place.

“Ready?” Sawyer asks, dropping the remnants of our trash into the garbage and placing his hand on my lower back. The butterflies in my stomach take flight as we slowly walk with the masses to the exit.

“Hey, Mr. R,” we hear behind us. Turning, there’s a small group of boys from our school, all with starry, wide eyes and eager grins.

“Hey, boys. Having fun tonight?” Sawyer asks, giving his full attention to five of his students.

“Awesome! My big brother scored the winning touchdown,” Hunter boasts.

“That’s great, Hunter. The entire team played well together and stayed focused. Solid win,” Sawyer says.

“Yeah. I can’t wait to start open gym and weight lifting for baseball,” one of the other boys, Connor, adds.

“It’ll be baseball season before we know it,” Sawyer agrees.

“Well, we gotta catch up with my mom. See ya Monday, Mr. R. You too, Miss S,” Hunter declares, turning and heading the opposite direction as us. We both wave at the boys as they walk away, recounting details of tonight’s big game.

There’s a buzz in the air around us as we walk down the sidewalk to our cars. I’d like the think it’s because of the Eagles’ win tonight, but something tells me I would be wrong. The air is thick with anticipation and eagerness, and my back starts to tingle where his hand gently rests. It makes me want to push back against his touch, to get even closer.

“This you?” he asks, pointing to the car I was about to walk right by.

See? When he touches me, my brain doesn’t function properly.

“Yep,” I reply, thankful that it’s dark enough that he can’t see the blush that’s surely creeping up my neck.

“I’m just a few cars down.” Sawyer steps closer, but not too close. Residents are still milling around and chatting, making their way to their own vehicles. “Did you bring a bag? I don’t want to just assume that we’re still on for this evening,” he whispers, maintaining eye contact.

“I believe I was told on our first date that sex wasn’t appropriate, but that all bets were off on the second date.”

“I believe I did say that,” he quips, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I believe this is the second date.”

“I believe you are correct.”

Stepping closer until my chest is pressed against his, I whisper, “Then, I believe you owe me sex.”

Sawyer’s eyes turn molten as they drop to my lips. To punctuate my point, I lick my lips, making sure they’re ready for what happens next. But after several sexually-charged seconds, he still makes no move to kiss me.

“Get in your car and follow me. When we get to my house, pull into the garage beside my car. You won’t be needing it this weekend,” he states boldly and confidently, a combination that sends my blood swooshing in my ears and wetness flooding my core.

My hands tremble slightly and it takes several tries to get the key in the ignition. I give myself one of those you got this pep talks, but as his headlights hit my car, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve bitten off a little more than I can chew where this man is concerned.

He oozes certainty and ability, something I’m not necessarily accustomed to. Sure, the guys I’ve dated always talked a big game, but when it came time to put the ball into play, most of them fell short. I’m an aggressive girl with tastes that match, and if Sawyer shows me even half of the sexuality he’s already displayed in our short time of knowing each other, I’m pretty sure tonight is going to be one to remember.

A shiver slips down my spine, landing squarely between my legs. My body is humming and throbbing and with each block that passes, each mile I put on my car, the closer I am to having the man I’ve wanted since seeing him in the bar two months ago.

When I pull into his drive, I follow him up the lane and pull into the garage bay beside his car. He’s already walking around the hood of his car, meeting me at my driver’s door. As I slip out, Sawyer reaches into the back seat and grabs my overnight bag. Taking my hand in his much larger one, he leads me to the entry door.

The house is dark as we enter from a mudroom. I pause to kick off my shoes, but don’t get very far when I’m pulled farther into the house. We pass an expansive kitchen, but I don’t have time to admire the appliances before we reach the living room. Moonlight filters through the windows along the back wall, giving off just enough light to see.

“Wow, this place is –” I start, but my words are cut off as I spin around and am claimed by his kiss.

His lips are urgent and dominating as his fingers thrust into my hair, gripping and holding my head tightly. He devours. He claims. That’s the only way to describe this most epic kiss. The kiss of all kisses. Holy hell, my entire body is alive, a reckless charge of electricity and desire.

Our lips remain locked, our tongues battling for control and as he lifts me with one hand, my legs wrapping around his waist. I can feel every gloriously hard inch of his erection between my legs, rubbing against the one place I need him most. I’m practically panting with need.

Sawyer spins around, pressing me firmly into the wall. Somewhere in the distance something breaks, the sound of glass shattering fills the room. But neither of us stops. We’re unable to.

My legs tighten around him as he thrusts upward. The friction between my legs is both heaven and hell. His clothes, my clothes, they all need to disappear. Fast. His hand returns to my head, his callused fingers sliding up my neck and gently gripping my jaw. I gasp huge gulps of sweet oxygen when he rips his lips from my own. Our eyes are locked intently, his breath panting against my lips, our bodies begging for more.

It’s right then that I know: this won’t be gentle and it won’t be enough.

It may never be enough.

Sawyer runs his thumb across my cheek and slides it along the seam of my mouth. My swollen lips tingle from his touch. My tongue darts out and licks his thumb, swirling around it as if it were a delicious strawberry lollipop. His eyes burn with desire as he watches. When I suck his thumb into my mouth, grazing my teeth along the pad, he groans loudly, and I swear I can feel his cock swell even more in his pants. His nostrils flare and his breathing becomes erratic.

I’m witnessing the moment he loses control.

And it’s for me.

Because of me.

His mouth claims mine once more as my hands dive for his shirt. My nails catch on the material as I rip and pull, not even caring if I destroy the garment in the process. Sawyer seems to be on the same wavelength. I feel the air kiss my back moments before his big paws sear my skin with his touch. He pushes the offending material up and over my head, his lips only leaving mine for a fraction of a second.

“This needs to go,” I beg breathlessly, unable to get his shirt out from under my body.

Somehow, and I have no clue how, without setting me down, he rips his shirt up and over his own head, tossing it somewhere inside the room. My hands dive into his hair as my lips slam against his. His hands grip and knead my ass as he turns. I hear the crash just as his tongue claims my mouth. Whatever he has me pinned against moves under the joint weight of our bodies. It gives way, causing Sawyer to stumble slightly. We both grunt as my back hits something hard and unforgiving.

“Sorry,” he mumbles before attacking my neck with his very skillful mouth.

My hand pushes between my legs, searching frantically for his belt. What I encounter leaves me desperate for more. His rock hard erection. It’s large and threatening to claw out of his pants, which would be completely A-OK with me.

Sawyer unfastens my bra, pulling it from my arms and whipping it over his head. We’re moving again, my chest pressed firmly against his, as he maneuvers us to a more stable surface. As soon as the cool wall hits my back, his mouth descends and his tongue licks one of my nipples.

I moan–or at least I think I moan–as his tongue swirls and licks one hard little bud, then the other. “Sawyer,” I whisper a gasp.

His eyes lock on mine. I’m held hostage by the fierceness and drive I see brewing within. His mouth ever so slowly drops down again and he latches on to one nipple. He sucks hard, pleasure mixing with a bit of pain, and I almost come. He soothes the tender nub with his tongue before moving over to the other. I think I’m ready for it, but the moment he sucks, I scream out his name in ecstasy.

“More,” he demands as he spins around and drops. Something slams against the floor, but I’m unable to figure out what. Instead, every active brain cell in my head dies a slow death as my aching core meets his throbbing cock.

He’s sitting now, probably on the coffee table. Sawyer kisses his way down my neck, to my chest, and lands on my sensitive breasts. He continues to lick, nip, and kiss each breast, all while I’m gyrating in his lap, like a hooker working to get paid. With each movement of my hips, I’m climbing closer and closer to the release I crave.

“I want to taste you so bad, sweet Alison, but I don’t think I can wait,” he says, kissing the corners of my lips and gripping my hips, halting my movement.

“I don’t want to wait. I can’t wait.”

Sawyer kisses me with urgency and moves again. This time, I know I’m on the floor. There’s a frantic rush to rid us both of clothing, starting with my shoes, socks, and pants. I gaze up, wild eyed, as he kicks off his own shoes, rips off his socks, and removes his belt. I’m transfixed on every movement of his hands. He grips his button and opens the fly. He shimmies the loose jeans over his hips, revealing one of those drool-worthy Vs that leads straight to his groin. He pushes his tight boxer briefs down his thighs, revealing the most impressive cock in the history of the world. Hard, straight, and thick.

Oh, the baseball bat analogy is spot on.

I whimper.

Grabbing his wallet, Sawyer pulls a condom out and rips it open. I watch every move he makes, transfixed by the sheer beauty of the moment. Yes, it’s positively beautiful. The man, his cock, his graceful actions. I can feel his eyes on me, watching me watch him.

When he’s sheathed in protection, he moves to cover me, my legs instinctively wrapping around him. His cock is heavy against my stomach as his lips find mine once more. This time, the kiss is slow and tender, yet still packs quite the passionate punch.

“I really want to take it slow for our first time, but I have a feeling once I’m inside you, I won’t be able to do slow.”

“Don’t do slow. I want you to take.”

His blue eyes search mine. “You sure?”

“Definitely,” I state. To punctuate my point, I tilt my hips, sliding my wetness along the base of his cock.

“Fuck, I can feel how wet you are,” he moans.

“Because I want you so bad. You make me so crazy-wet.” I’m panting again as anticipation and yearning collide. I’m ready, so very ready for this.

As if to validate my statement, he moves his hand between our bodies and slips a finger into my pussy. “Fuck, Alison,” he whispers a raspy breath.

“That’s the plan,” I retort, knowing I’m pushing the limits on how much of my mouth he’ll take. In fact, I’m hoping to shove him straight over his breaking point. Out of control Sawyer is quickly becoming one of my favorite facades.

He growls in my ear before biting my lobe. It sends a shockwave of pleasure straight to my core. He pushes up on his elbow and takes his cock in his other hand. I get a jolt of desire at the prospect of watching him stroke himself off.

I’ll have to see if that’s on the menu later.

Lining himself up at my entrance, he gently pushes forward. There’s a stretch and burning sensation as my body adjusts to allow his girth. His eyes pin me to the floor just as much as his body. He makes small thrusts until he’s fully seated inside me. The slight tinge of pain as I accommodate his size is quickly replaced by pure rapture.

Then he pulls almost completely out and stops. Our eyes lock for a heartbeat, and he thrusts forward.

Hard.

And all bets are off.

The pace is set immediately. It’s fast and hungry, with slapping skin and guttural grunts. My nails sink into the tender skin of his back, probably hard enough to draw blood, but he doesn’t complain. In fact, the pain almost spurs him on. My back burns from the rug, but I ignore it. Instead, I focus on the joy sweeping through my body as it climbs high and higher. So high, the clouds are within my reach.

Sawyer is getting close too. I can feel it in his movements and taste it on his skin. I hang on tight as he takes me straight to the edge. I’m teetering there, hanging on by a thread, and begging for that final push.

“Are you ready to come, Alison?” he asks, pausing when he’s buried to the root.

“Yes. God, yes. Please.” Each word comes out a gasp, a declaration, and a plea.

Sawyer pulls out and then slams back in. The friction and angle send me flying over the edge, freefalling through encompassing white light. My body bears down on his as my orgasm rips through it like an exorcism. His cock swells one last time as he pumps hard, stilling and spilling my name from his lips with his release. Sawyer moves as shutters wrack his body until he’s unable to move any longer.

When exhaustion sets in, he collapses on top of me, a tangled mess of sweaty limbs and labored breathing. There’s something incredibly comforting about feeling the weight of his body pressing into me, even if he’s pressing me into the uncomfortably hard floor.

Without saying a word, he adjusts his weight to take the brunt of it off me but still keeping me pinned to the floor. My fingers slip into the wet strands of his hair, toying with the ends and savoring the feel of it between my fingers. He cups my jaw tenderly before placing soft kisses along my clammy neck.

“That was,” he starts, but doesn’t finish.

“Yeah,” I confirm, unable to find my own word to describe it.

Incredible? Unforgettable? Epic?

Probably all of those and more.