Chapter 17: Breakaway: Chapter 17

COOPER DOESN’T TAKE me to a closet. Instead, we duck out the back and settle in his car. When he sees me shiver, he turns on the heat, leaning back in the driver’s seat and fixing me with a look that clearly says I need to start talking, because his patience is already thin.

I lace my fingers together. “I don’t need you to protect me.”

He blinks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Especially from you. You’re not going to break my heart, Callahan.” I lean in. Being in the cab of an old truck with him, it’s more apparent than ever just how big he is—even underneath his sweatshirt, his shoulders look nearly as broad as they do when he’s wearing his pads, and his dark wash jeans show off his muscular thighs. The column of his neck looks downright lickable. If he rejects me again, aside from living with the embarrassment, I’m going to spend a lot of time trying—and likely failing—to get him out of my fantasies. “I know what I want.”

He raises his eyebrows. “I don’t know, Red. I think you’re underestimating my charm.”

“Or perhaps you’re overestimating it,” I shoot back. “Look, if you don’t want me, just say so. I’ll get over it. But if you said no last night just because you want to protect me against whatever you think is going to happen, you’re not listening to me. I don’t want a relationship right now. I just want to explore a little.”

“Which is fine, but that doesn’t change the fact your father is my coach.” He takes off his backwards baseball cap and sets it on the dashboard, running a hand through his hair.

I wet my lips; his hands are so big. When I became so desperate that a nice pair of hands does me in, I have no idea. “He’s not going to find out.” I laugh shortly. “And trust me, if he does, he’ll have no trouble believing it was all my idea, and you just went along with it.”

“Why?”

I smile wryly. “Doesn’t matter. So, which is it? Was I really such a bad hookup?”

The bark of laughter he lets out startles me. “Sweetheart, nothing about that was bad except the fact it had to end,” he says; there’s a low note in his voice that makes my belly quiver. “I’d have spent forever with you in that closet, dust bunnies and all.”

It’s taking a massive amount of effort to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. “Then take me through my list.” I lean closer, putting my hand on his thigh. His gaze darts down, taking in the gesture. I swallow my nerves and press my lips to his jaw. Near his mouth, but not quite close enough to count as a proper kiss. “Keep yourself relaxed and playing well with me. Let me be good for you.”

He fists his hand in my hair, pulling me into a kiss—the kind that leaves me breathless, my toes curling. He bites on my lower lip, dragging out the friction before pulling away. “Quid pro quo?”

“Friends.” I kiss him again; he fumbles for the seat control and shoves it back, giving me enough space to slide into his lap. “Friends who fuck.”

“Dangerous,” he murmurs. “You’re playing with fire, Red.”

“You like it, don’t you?”

“Can’t deny it.” He takes my hand in his, pressing it against the bulge in his jeans to emphasize his answer. He’s hard as a rock. I grin, pressing another kiss to his lips as I massage his cock through the fabric. His breath hitches, making my core clench. It feels good to know I can affect him too; that even though he has all the experience, I have my own kind of power.

“What do you say?”

He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “Okay,” he says. “Friends with benefits.”

“Friends with an agenda.”

“You are rather organized.”

I bite my lip deliberately as I continue to work my hand over his pants. “You know what’s next.”

He strokes across my bottom lip. I open my mouth, biting down on his thumb. First a closet, now a truck cab. It’s not a picture-perfect moment, but it’s exactly how I want it.

“Here?” he says.

I play with the button on his jeans. Someone could walk by and see, but we’re in a quiet corner of the lot. “Why not?”

He grips my wrist, stilling my hand. When he speaks, his voice is rougher. I nearly tremble from the intensity of his gaze; even though I’m still bundled up, I feel exposed, like he just ripped my clothes off. “Back seat. I want to see your tits.”

I climb into the back and pull off my hat and sweater, tossing both aside, and kick off my boots. I’m wearing one of my nicest bralettes underneath; it’s light blue like the panties that he complimented last time. Now, I shiver for real. Even with the heat on, it’s not exactly toasty in here. He joins me in the backseat, shirtless too, and stops me when I reach around to unhook the bralette.

“Fuck,” he breathes. He plucks at my hardened nipples through the lace, dragging a moan from my throat. “Such pretty little tits. I’ve been imagining these, Red.”

I lean into him, reaching out my hand to trace down his chest. He has a couple of tattoos; the detailed sword I noticed earlier, plus an artful rendering of a Celtic knot over his heart. I want to trace over the thick black lines with my tongue. He continues to tease me through the fabric for a moment before he just pulls my tits out of the bralette, rather than taking it off; I moan as his big, rough hands each cup one and squeeze. He kisses me, running his tongue over mine.

“Do your panties match?” he says as he pulls back. “You strike me as that sort of girl.”

I unbutton my jeans and tug them down my thighs. He helps me get them off completely, so I’m sitting on the leather seat in a tiny, wet scrap of fabric. Dark blue this time. He rubs his knuckles over the front of my panties. “Pretty.”

I gasp out a breath as I try to manage a flirtatious smile. “You said blue looked good on me.”

“It does.” He kisses me hard. “You really want to blow me, gorgeous?”

I rake my nails down his stomach. “Show me how you like it.”

He pulls down his jeans and black boxer-briefs, freeing his cock. It looks even bigger than I remember, framed by neat, dark hair, the tip reddened and covered in pre-come. I lick my lips, which wrestles a groan from his chest; he pulls me close, into another kiss, his hand palming my bottom.

“Take off my panties,” I whisper. “They’re ruined already.”

He drags them down my ass. “So needy,” he says. “Does the thought of tasting me get you that hot and bothered?”

The words tumble from my lips as I take his cock in hand, giving it the sensual stroke that I remember from last time. “Want to drink your come.”

“Fuck.” He tugs on my hair until I slide down, so my face is right near his cock. “Explore a little, Red. Take your time.”

I mouth at the tip, shuddering as he scratches his nails over my scalp. Even the head feels big in my mouth, velvet-soft and tasting of salt. I lick away the pre-come, then move my tongue over the vein running down his cock. His hand tightens in my hair. “Good,” he says. “Keep going.”

I use my hand to steady the base as I move my mouth on him, alternating between kissing and licking. I flick my gaze upward; his eyes are half-shut, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallows. I accidentally get him with my teeth, and he jolts, but half a second later he’s back to moving against me.

“Use your lips more,” he murmurs as he pets my hair. “If you want to suck me, take me into your mouth nice and slow. Breathe through your nose.”

I want that; I want to feel him in my throat. Even the thought has me pressing my thighs together, desperate for at least a little contact. The moment I get real friction, I know I’ll come. Our positions, his rough, quiet voice, the way he has my hair wrapped around his fist—it’s all coming together to bring me as close to the edge as I’ve ever come without direct contact.

I squeeze his balls gently; they’re tight and clearly aching because he groans. His hips jerk slightly, pushing the first inch of his cock into my mouth. I suck on it, relishing in the taste. He’s trembling with the effort of holding still, I realize with a jolt. He could easily push right into my mouth and make me take it, but he’s holding back, letting me set the pace. I reward him by taking another inch, and then another, sucking lightly as I breathe through my nose. I haven’t even taken him halfway yet and I feel him deeply.

“Red,” he says, his voice breaking. I bob my head, moving slightly as I suck. He can’t help but push into my mouth more, but I take it the way I’ve always imagined I would, the way I’ve fantasized about for years, the way I’ve practiced with my own toys. Before long, he’s cupping my jaw, murmuring that he’s close. I pull off, but not all the way; just enough that I taste his come on my tongue when he tips over the edge. I swallow it down, continuing to lick at him softly, closing my eyes for a long moment as I breathe. His hand continues to work through my hair.

Eventually, he pulls me up. Saliva covers my mouth and chin, but he kisses me anyway as he runs his hands down my breasts and belly, settling on my hips. When he pulls back, I feel shy suddenly, unable to meet his gaze. He tilts my chin up and presses a softer kiss to my lips.

“Was I good?” I ask. My voice breaks slightly. My whole body feels like a spark plug, ready to come alive.

“So fucking good,” he says. Warmth blooms in my chest at his words, but it heads straight between my legs when he spreads me, rubbing my clit until I cry out softly against his shoulder. I feel him press a kiss to my head as he works me over. The sensations are exquisite, but his words leave me so close I can hardly stand it. “Come for me, baby.”

I shake apart. If I thought I came hard when he went down on me, this is ten times more intense; stars burst at the edges of my vision as my cunt clenches almost painfully. I’m so sensitive I try to twist away from his touch, but he just switches to stroking my inner thigh instead. Slick coats my skin. I’m panting, and so is he; it feels like we’re in a sweat lodge instead of a barely warm truck cab.

It’s almost strange to look at him and see the evidence of what we did together. I can see the lingering hunger in his eyes. The still-rapid rise and fall of his chest. I can feel the burn of his beard on my mouth and jaw. I was expecting awkwardness, but I feel completely relaxed, and judging by the looseness of his body, he feels the same way.

I know this won’t lead anywhere real, but for a moment—half a second, really—I let myself pretend.