A Night With Knox (5 page)

I
pull at his shirt. He trails kisses down to my neck, stopping just
under my jawline, right against my pulse. I shiver, ready to
surrender everything right on this godforsaken baseball field. If I
knew
this
was what I was gonna get out of playing ball, I would have picked it
up years ago.

Knox

Shelby
moans as I run my hand along the inside of her thigh. Her skin is
warm to my touch. Breathing heavily, she parts her legs, urging my
hand along. I trace a finger along the fabric of her panties. She’s
already soaking and sighs through the kiss when I press against her.
I brush against the lace seam, teasing, feeling her warmth and loving
the way she claws at me, demanding.

“I
know you’re begging for it,
slugger,” I say, giving her ass a squeeze.

She
moans against me and says, “You’re
going to have to work a little harder.”

Her
lips crash against mine, hungry, insistent. I love to see her like
this, desperate, willing, and eager for anything. “Are
you just as sassy when you orgasm?” I
breathe into her ear. Her breath hitches as I tug at the thin cotton
that separates her aching pussy from me.

“Try
me,” she manages to get out.

“I’ll
have you screaming all night, baby.”

I
tease her core, dipping only my fingertip into her slick heat, but
just as I’m
about to plunge into her, a voice cracks through the silence. “What’s
going on out there?” It comes from
somewhere in left field, shattering the moment like a baseball
through a glass window.

I
pull away. Shelby whimpers, suddenly deprived of my fingers. A
Maglite spotlight sweeps the field and stops on us. Caught
red-handed. Like a bunch of kids stealing candy bars.

“Run,”
Shelby says, pushing against my chest to snap me
out of my daze. We take off hand in hand. As we run, Shelby’s
eyes light up, despite the yearning that I know has her weak at the
knees, and despite nearly getting caught—or
maybe because of it.

I
hear the guard’s
pounding footsteps growing louder. He came all the way from the
outfield, but he’s
right behind us now. I know guys who would kill for hustle like that.
Shelby’s
laughing as she runs, her bare toes skimming the dewy grass. Her
amusement is infectious and I laugh too as we dart out of sight. We
hit the asphalt of the parking lot and Shelby’s
first to the car, still caught up in a fit of giggles. I unlock the
door and she flings herself into the passenger seat.

The
engine starts in complete silence and the security guard doesn’t
bother chasing us out of the lot. The poor guy better be getting a
decent pay for working on New Year’s.

“I
can’t believe we
almost got caught.”

“Where’d
your shoes go?” I ask, looking at her
dirty feet. Between running toward first and our make-out session,
her feet are caked in dirt. Not that I mind. I love seeing her hot
and bothered. Judging by her smile, she doesn’t
seem to care either.

“Must
have left them at the field.”

“I’ll
get you some new ones.”

“Now
that’s a
way to a woman’s
heart.” She leans over the seat
coming within inches of me, her eyes daring me to forget the road. I
give her a knowing smile. She can tease all she wants, but there will
be a price for that when I spread her out on a bed. “So
are you going to leave a girl hanging?”

“Not
on your life, slugger.”

“What
hotel are you staying at?” she asks.

“I’m
actually staying with a friend.” I
cringe as I say it. Everything about this night seems to be
conspiring toward a cockblock.

She
doesn’t
miss a beat. “Turn here,”
she says, pointing to the next intersection.
“We’ll
go to my place.”

Her
apartment is slick and modern. Cool grays with the occasional pop of
white. It’s
a loft, but it’s
not cramped like most: everything flows together. Her kitchen opens
up into her living area with a big couch and an impressive TV. It’s
an older building and most of the original brickwork’s
been left exposed.

She
freezes when she unlocks the door, a jolt of adrenaline visibly
running through her. I frown down at the startled expression that
flickers across her face. But before I can move to make her forget
whatever is worrying her, she recovers and sweeps into the living
area.

“You
want something to drink?” she asks
quickly.

“Sure.”

Shelby
flashes me a smile and crosses the room, lingering for a second at a
small bookshelf before she disappears into the kitchen. I step
farther into the living room and see that she had hidden her photos
by turning the frames so they rested against the wood. That explains
the fear from earlier. Probably photos of some ex she doesn’t
want me to see. Fine by me. At this point, Shelby can do whatever she
wants as long as I can get her on that bed as soon as possible.

I
turn to examine the rest of the loft. An entire corner has been given
over to a string of medals and something that looks like a flip
calendar. I lean in to get a closer look and realize that the
calendar is actually a collection of running bibs, the numbers
printed boldly in black ink. The medals must be from races, I
realize, as I read city names and distances stamped across them.
There’s a
great photo of Shelby, hot and sweaty after a run, but grinning like
a fool. It has to be a few years old. She still looks like she’s
in her late teens.

“That
was my first marathon,” she says,
walking over with a glass of whiskey. “My
dad thought it would be funny to stick a camera in my face after I
just finished.”

“How
many have you run?”

“I
do a couple a year,” she says with a
shrug. “Excuse me for a minute while
I go clean these feet,” she says,
showing me her sexy feet still dirty from the field.

When
she comes back, she’s
pulled out her ponytail and her dark hair falls over her shoulders to
the middle of her back. She’s
still got my Yankee jacket on, and I’m
partially surprised she hasn’t
burned it out of spite. As satisfying as it is to see her decked out
in my gear, I’d
do anything to get her out of it.

She
leads me to the sofa and I take a seat. She curls up next to me, far
enough that we’re
not touching, but close enough that it wouldn’t
take much. She brings her feet up under her and rests her head on her
hand, studying me. Not like the girls at the bar, greedily taking in
the ball player, but like she’s
searching for something else.

“So.”
Shelby takes a swig of her whiskey. “Why
baseball?” She needles me with her
foot and I grab it before she can pull it away.

“Because
I like to play a fake sport.” I run a
finger lazily up and down her calf, loving the way she trembles at my
touch. “Why football?” I
ask. “Wait, no, let me guess—it’s
a real sport with plenty of eye candy?”

“You
think you’re cute, don’t
you?” she asks.

“Absolutely
not. I’m
hot as hell.”

She
rolls her eyes, but still can’t
hide the smile wanting to escape. I let my hand wander higher until
its brushes the back of her knee.

Her
breath hitches. “Tell me something
about you,” she says. “Something
I can’t
find on Wikipedia. Something about the man beyond the myth.”

“Not
a lot here. I play baseball. Got drafted by the Yankees outta
college.”

“Bullshit.”
She captures my hand with hers, pulling it higher
up her leg, inching me towards the heat I so desperately want to
claim. Damn, this girl is something else.

“Excuse
me?”

“You
left out the whole thing about being in the bar business.”

“It
was a good investment. The guys I work with are my friends. When I
meet beautiful women who hate my first career, it gives me something
else to talk about.”

Her
expression changes to mock outrage and she completes the look by
holding a hand to her heart. “Who’ve
you been talking to?”

I
lean toward her, letting my fingertips rest a breath away from her
panties, smirking at her reaction to my teasing. “Just
this girl I picked up at a New Year’s
Eve party. She really likes to remind me how much my career path
sucks.”

“Someone’s
gotta make sure that ego of yours doesn’t
suffocate you,” she breathes. No
matter how turned on she gets, she still resists with her spitfire
humor. Just watching her struggle is damn sexy. “It’d
be such a shame.”

Her
face hovers inches from mine. I can still remember the feel of her
lips at the baseball diamond. We both know where this evening is
going.

I
close the gap between us, kissing her and slipping two fingers under
the lace of her panties. She moans, her mouth soft, and I pull her
onto my lap.

Shelby

Straddling
him, I take Knox’s
face in my hands and kiss him. I trace the seam of his lips, tasting
the burn of whiskey. It’s
a potent mixture, each kiss getting me hotter until every part of me
screams for more.

I
struggle out of the sweatshirt, needing more contact with him. It
falls to the ground, leaving my shoulders bare.

Tonight
will be enough, I promise myself. Just a special way to ring in the
New Year. We’ll
wring each other dry and then Knox can go back to New York and I’ll
focus on finding a real relationship. He won’t
ever know who I am and the guys at the bar won’t
find out. But tonight, before we go our separate ways, I plan to put
this baseball player through his paces.

His
tongue sweeps through my mouth while his fingers slip under my dress
and knead my ass. He moves his fingers to tease my opening,
withholding any real pressure, and I let out a frustrated moan. I’m
already soaked and this isn’t
alleviating the problem. Tilting my hips I try to direct his fingers,
but he’s
intent on taking his time and moves them away.

“I’m
in charge here, slugger.” I whimper
at the absence of his fingers, but he settles his hands on my hips,
pulling me closer. The pressure of his hard cock straining under his
jeans alone is enough to push me over the edge. “I’m
going to claim your pussy, baby. You’ll
be screaming my name all night.”

Fuck
.
I catch his lip between my teeth and pull. I don’t
surrender that easily. He inhales sharply and he retaliates by
slipping my panties down over my ass.

I
can feel his cock pressing against me. Even though there are so many
layers of clothing between us, the friction is insane.

He
trails kisses down my throat finding my pulse in my neck.

“God
I am so ready to fuck you Shelby,” he
whispers in my ear. “I can’t
wait to feel your wet pussy on my cock.”

I
can hardly speak, rocking against his erection. It connects with my
clit making me shiver.

“So
greedy,” Knox teases. He shifts under
me and I let out a moan of disappointment when my clit loses contact
with his cock. Gently he lays me back against my couch. His hands
slip under my dress and he hooks his thumbs into the sides off my
panties. I shift my hips and let him pull them down.

“Overrunning
second base?” I tease. He balls up my
panties and throws them over his shoulder.

“File
a protest.”

Knox
stares at my pussy. I sigh and let my legs fall open further, as he
traces kisses up my skin. His whiskers scrape against me and it sends
jolts straight to my clit. All that anticipation is paying off. I
can’t
remember the last time I was this turned on.

I
pull my hips up off the couch, ready to accept everything he has to
offer.

Knox
teases his way up and down my thighs, a nip here and a kiss there,
until I’m sure I’ll
scream out from wanting him. I shift, trying to force his hand to do
what I want. Gripping my hips, he holds me steady and slips his
tongue between my lips, licking me passionately. He sucks my clit and
the world starts to fragment. I thread one hand through his hair and
I bite my finger on my other, trying to force myself to stay in one
piece.

“Knox,”
I hiss, not sure if I said it aloud or in my head.
His tongue taps a quick staccato on my clit. My hips buck, the rhythm
pushing me to the edge. Before I get release, he eases back, and the
pressure abates. I moan, frustrated that he can leave me like this.

His
hands hold me in place, like hot brands on my sensitive skin. This
isn’t
enough. Deep inside I ache for more. I try to push myself up, to get
what I want, but Knox is determined to take his time.

His
finger traces the outline of my pussy before sinking in. I moan,
falling back against the cushions.
Fuck
.
I whimper, ready for more. It’s
been so long and the mounting tension without release is almost too
much. He seems hell-bent on driving me as crazy as possible before he
takes me.

Then
he adds a second finger. Pleasure races through me. He pauses and I
gasp at the sudden denial. “Tell me
what you want,” he murmurs.

“Knox,”
I gasp.

“Tell
me.”

“Please,”
I moan. “I want more.”

He
plunges back in with a third finger and I buck against him. Just as
I’m about
to go over the edge, he adds his tongue. I cry out. My hips move of
their own accord, urging his fingers deeper and riding his tongue,
wanting more.
Needing
more.

I’m
completely at his mercy.

“Knox,
please,” I beg. But he doesn’t
let up. The world is already coming apart in my vision. I grind my
pussy against his fingers, demanding more, craving a release that is
so close.

I
gasp as the tension builds. He groans from between my legs, coiling
me tighter than a spring. The pressure builds and I can barely hold
back a scream. Knox knows exactly what he’s
doing.