Going Deep (33 page)

“You want it
all, don’t you?”

“Yes, please.”

“Do it again. Hold
yourself open,” he said.

She slid her
fingers into her folds and spread them open.

“That’s it. Now
watch me fuck you.”

He entered her
slowly so she felt every increment. Watching her body take his inside was the
most intimate thing she’d ever seen. He paused, and sliding his hands along her
inner thighs, pressed her open even further. Her thigh muscles protested the
stretching, but when he slid deeper she forgot everything but him.

 “See that?” he
asked with a scratchy voice.

“Yes, oh God,
Jason…it’s so….” Her heart flip-flopped. She searched for the words to tell him
what she felt seeing him inside her.

“Beautiful,” he
said. “Fucking beautiful.”

She nodded,
unable to form words. He pulled out and stopped just before leaving her completely.
She whimpered.

“See how wet you
are?” he asked, swiping a finger along his glistening shaft. He lifted his eyes
to hers. “You’re mine, Carrie Taylor. All mine.” He slid back in, his gaze
never leaving hers. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and moved her hand
lower, splaying her fingers so his cock slipped between them. “This is us. You
and me, Carrie.” He held her hand there, slowly pulling out and filling her
again, setting a deliberate, steady rhythm. “Watch.”

She followed his
gaze to where their bodies became one.

“I love you,” he
said.

She took him
deep. “I love you, too.”

About the Author

Roz Lee has been married to her
best friend, and high school sweetheart, for over three decades. These days she
splits her time between their home in rural New Jersey, and Southern
California, where her husband works. Even though she’s lived on both coasts,
her heart lies in between, in Texas. A Texan by birth, she can trace her family
back to the Republic of Texas. With roots that deep, she says, “You can’t ever
really leave.”

Roz and her husband have two
grown daughters they couldn’t be more proud of, and are currently raising a
twelve-year-old Labrador Retriever, Betty Boop, who isn’t aware of her canine
heritage.

When Roz isn’t writing, she’s
reading, or traipsing around the country on one adventure or another. No trip
is too small, no tourist trap too cheesy, and no road unworthy of traveling.

Other Titles by Roz Lee

Inside Heat

Sweet Carolina

The Lust Boat

Show Me the Ropes

Love Me Twice

Four of Hearts

Under the Covers

Still Taking Chances

Making It on Broadway

Haven’t read Jeff’s story?
Here’s a peek at

Inside Heat

Mustangs Baseball – Book One

Chapter One

Megan leaned
over the railing. She stretched her arm out toward the tall guy with the
crooked smile and waved the program at him.
Please. Please. Please. Pick me.
Come on
. She repeated the mantra in her head, all the while feeling
perfectly ridiculous standing in a crowd of pre-adolescents begging for an
autograph. To top it off, she wasn’t even sure she was waving her program at
the right guy. She’d studied Christopher’s baseball card, knew the face she
needed to find, but unless she missed her guess, the guy had a twin brother,
and they both played on the same team. Just her luck.

There wasn’t
anything she could do about it now. She continued to wave the program at the
one closest to her, and prayed he was the pitcher – Christopher’s idol. In
retrospect, it had been foolish to promise the kid she’d get the autograph for
him, but she’d made the promise, and she was going to honor it – somehow.

An endless
supply of excited youngsters replaced the ones who had gotten an autograph and
left. Megan held her ground amidst jostling bodies and annoyed looks from the
other autograph seekers. So what if she was an adult? It wasn’t like she wanted
the autograph for herself – even if the guy was hot. Seriously hot. She’d
thought he was good looking when Christopher handed her the baseball card he
kept with him twenty-four/seven. But the card didn’t come close to capturing
the real Jeff Holder, or was it his brother?

“Hey Jeff!” the
kid beside her yelled. The man on the field turned toward her. So this one was
the one she sought. Good thing because the other one had his own admirers at
the rail. No way would she be able to fight her way through the crowd to get to
him in time. Now that she knew she’d had the right guy all along, she renewed
her bid for his autograph, waving the program with new enthusiasm. The kid next
to her elbowed her in the stomach, accidentally she was sure, and despite being
half her size, shoved her hard. Megan made a grab for the seat behind her to
keep from falling.

She straightened
and turned back to the railing, coming eye to eye with Jeff Holder. Holy cow!
The man was gorgeous. Sinfully gorgeous. Cream her panties gorgeous. It had
been a long time since she’d had that kind of reaction. Hell, if she were being
truthful with herself, she’d never felt that jolt of awareness before. It was
as if her body recognized his, and responded.

“Are you all
right?” he asked with genuine concern in his deep, testosterone-laden voice.

God, he had
beautiful blue eyes, surrounded by dark lashes that contrasted with his blond
hair. His eyes focused on hers with pinpoint accuracy while taking in the
broader picture all at once. It was more than a little unnerving – and
arousing. Megan shoved the thought out of her head as quickly as it had come.
She didn’t have time in her life for a relationship – not that one was possible
with someone like Jeff Holder. A girl could fantasize though.

“Uhm…yes. I
think so.” She grabbed the rail with her free hand to steady herself.

“Good.” He
smiled and held out his hand. Megan stared at his even white teeth and his full
lips she instinctively knew would feel wonderful on hers. “Did you want an
autograph?”

“Uhh…what?”

“Autograph. Do
you want one?” He tugged on the program in her hand, and she snapped out of her
lustful stupor.

“Oh! Yes,
please.” She studied his face as he bent his head to scribble his name on her
program.
Get a grip
. Megan chastised herself. She wasn’t here to ogle
the man. She was here to get an autograph for Christopher.

He thrust the
program toward her. His gaze raked over her again, as if sizing up an all you
can eat smorgasbord. She swallowed hard and pressed the program over her
fluttering heart with both hands. “Th…thanks,” she stammered. And then he winked
at her.
Winked
. She blinked in surprise as he turned his attention to
the new crop of autograph seekers.

She hadn’t
planned to hang around for the game, but that wink must have scrambled her
brains because here she was holding onto the railing with a white knuckled grip
as she made her way to her seat. Who knew you needed mountain climbing gear at
a baseball stadium? One wrong move, a slip of the foot, and she’d tumble all
the way down to the field. Yeesh! She dropped into her seat and closed her eyes
to stay a wave of dizziness. Megan counted ten deep breaths and concentrated on
bringing her heart rate down to an acceptable level before opening her eyes.
Below her,
waaaay
below her, the playing field sparkled like an emerald,
accented with red-orange and white. It was a spectacular view, as was usually
the case from a mountaintop, even if the players were nothing more than ants on
a beautiful picnic blanket.

She took in the
spectacle. Families filled the seats around her. Kids with hot dogs and mustard
stains on their clothes, parents passing napkins and juggling soft drinks
brought a smile to her face. This was what baseball was about – fresh air and
fun. She waved a hot dog vendor over and decided to forget the mountain of
laundry waiting at home, and the fact that her cabinets were empty. If she
hurried after the game, she could still get the grocery shopping done and do
enough laundry to get her through the next few days. It seemed the one day a
week she managed to get off work amounted to nothing but more work – without
pay. It wouldn’t hurt to spend an afternoon at the ball game.

Megan reasoned
herself into staying, and to consuming at least one of every treat offered by
the stadium hawkers. How long had it been since she’d eaten a hot dog, or
cotton candy? Years, it seemed. She refused to feel guilty about the extra
calories or the dent in her wallet. Between the ticket, parking and gluttony,
she probably could have taken a weekend cruise. None of that mattered. The sky
was too blue, the grass impossibly green, and…she had Jeff Holder’s autograph
in her bag.

Thoughts of
Christopher slowly wasting away in his hospital bed brought a tear to her eye.
Here she was, surrounded by happy, healthy children enjoying one of life’s
simple pleasures with their families, and reminded Megan of the good she and
others did for critically ill children. She loved being a nurse, and her
usually upbeat manner made her a favorite among the kids in the special wards.
It wasn’t easy keeping a smile on her face, even harder to keep the tears from
showing when she looked into the hopeful eyes of a sick child, or the worried
eyes of a parent, and knew there wasn’t a thing modern medicine could do to
help them. Her work was gut wrenching at times but then there were the success
stories. Those were the ones that kept her going, kept her doing whatever she
could to give a child a fighting chance against the injustice of sickness.

She pulled the
program out and wiped away the sudden rush of tears before they could ruin the
autograph. If Jeff Holder’s signature could bring a smile to Christopher’s
little face, Megan would give up every one of her precious days off to make it
happen.

Megan tried to
focus on the signature through blurry eyes. She fished a tissue from her purse
and dabbed at the corners of her eyes until she could see clearly again. She
blinked. Then she blinked again.

“No!” she
shouted. Everyone around turned and glared at her. Megan apologized for her
outburst, and tried to explain it away by saying she’d spilled something on her
program. She received a few sympathetic comments before everyone returned their
attention to the game.

Her heart sank
as she read what Jeff Holder had written. She couldn’t give this to
Christopher! Fresh tears threatened to spill over as she curled the program
into a glossy weapon.

Of all the…

How could he?

What was he
thinking?

What am I
going to do now?

Disappointment
roiled around in her stomach along with hurt and anger until she thought she
might be sick. Or it could have been all the stuff she’d eaten. Either way,
she’d wasted an entire day in pursuit of an autograph. And what did she have to
show for it? A pick-up line. That’s what. Did he really think she was going to
show up at the restaurant he’d indicated, at the time he’d indicated? Who did
he think he was anyway? God’s gift to women?

The crowd surged
to their feet and a deafening roar pushed her budding headache over into
full-fledged pain. She stuffed the now useless program into her bag and stood
to see what was going on. Absolutely nothing. Except for the one guy throwing
pitches to the catcher, everyone else was standing around in groups of two or
three, chatting.

She bent and
yelled at the kid next to her so he could hear her over the clapping and
cheering. “What’s going on?” He looked to be about Christopher’s age, ten or
eleven. He’d hardly taken his eyes off the field the entire game, so it was a
safe bet he knew what was happening.

“Are you
kidding? The Terminator just came in to pitch. All we need is three outs to
win.” His enthusiasm allowed his voice to carry above the din. If he’d been at
home, his mother would be scolding him to use his indoor voice.

“Who’s the
Terminator?”

“Jeff Holder.
He’s the best in baseball!”

Megan looked
closer at the guy on the pitching mound. From this distance it was impossible
to tell if he was the same man who’d made her heart flutter, then crushed her
dreams, and Christopher’s, with a few pen strokes.

“Why is everyone
standing?” she asked. The entire stadium was on their feet, clapping and
cheering.

“Because it’s
the Terminator!” he yelled, as if that made perfect sense. Then he turned back
to the game, dismissing Megan as only a kid could do.

Her head pounded
in rhythm to the clapping, and the foot stomping that rocked the upper deck.
With every pitch, every strike, every out, the crowd grew impossibly louder,
and Megan grew increasingly angrier. What was she going to do? She’d promised
Christopher, and she couldn’t bear to see his face when she told him she’d
failed. He’d be crushed, and the last thing the little guy needed was more
disappointment in his life.

 Before the
Terminator threw the last pitch, she pushed her way to the aisle and picked her
way down the almost vertical steps with as much grace as a mountain goat that
just discovered a patch of locoweed. If she beat the crowd, she might get home
in enough time to change clothes and meet Jeff Holder at the restaurant he’d
written on her program. She had one last chance to get the autograph for
Christopher. She’d meet Jeff Holder, get the autograph, and then she’d tell him
what a despicable low-life he was.