Page 47 of Drop Shot (On the Court #2)

WHIMSY

“You got me a pink tennis racket?” I jump up and down with excitement, reaching out with grabby hands for the racket.

“It is your favorite color,” he replies.

“What about pink balls?” I ask, laughing when he rolls his eyes.

“The balls are the same color they always are.” He sticks some in his pocket and hands me the others. I put one under each side of my shorts.

After my mom and sister left, we decided to head to the nearby tennis club that Elias is a member of to play for fun. I figured it would also give Craig some time to adjust to being back in the apartment without people around to stress her out.

“Do you want to serve first or me?” he asks, stretching out his arms. I try not to drool over the brief glimpse of his biceps I get when his sleeves ride up.

“You first.”

I’m still getting used to serving, so I’d rather watch him before I take a turn at it.

He gets into place across the net and I do the same. He bounces the ball a few times and pauses.

“What do I get if I win?” he calls over to me.

“What do you want?” I counter.

His smile is slow, dimple prominent. “You.”

I roll my eyes, trying not to smile. “Pick something you don’t already have.”

“You on your knees for me in the locker room.”

My jaw drops at that response, and he laughs, brow lifting in challenge.

“What do you want if you win?” he asks when I’m quiet too long.

“Not that,” I blurt, my face hot to the touch when I reach up to check.

“Are you sure?” he teases. “It could be fun. Think about it—the thrill of the potential of being caught.”

“Stop it,” I hiss across the net. “People might hear you.”

He gives a significant look to the empty courts on either side of us. There are a few other people on the court farther down from us, just playing for fun as a group, but otherwise that’s it, and they’re too loud to hear our conversation.

“My point still stands,” I argue.

He laughs and returns to bouncing his ball. When I don’t move, he pauses again and looks at me with a raised brow. “Get in your correct position, Clever Girl.”

“Oh, right.”

I had moved forward during my indignation over his proposal for winning.

Once I’m back in position, he prepares to serve for a third time.

When he makes the serve, I realize he’s not going to go easy on me. He’s serious about winning.

I have to sprint to make contact with the ball and end up hitting it into the net.

“This is going to be too easy,” he cajoles.

I groan and toss the ball back to him. “Yeah,” I gripe. “Because you’re a professional tennis player.”

Luckily, he does take it easier on me from that point on—but not easy enough that it’s not a fight for me.

So, it shocks me when he groans and drops to the ground.

“Elias!” I cry out in worry. If he somehow got seriously injured playing a fun game with me, I know his team will have my head. I run over to his side of the court and drop to my knees, hands fluttering around him. “Are you okay?”

Laughing, he pulls me in by my waist for a kiss.

“I’m fine, baby,” he croons. “Just wanted a kiss from my girl.”

I push lightly at his shoulder. “You suck.”

He stands, pulling me up with him. “I couldn’t resist.” He smacks my ass before I can head back to the other side of the net.

I serve and we get back to the game.

I’m not even a little surprised when he comes out victorious in the end.

“Well”—I stand with my hands on my hips— “you won.”

“That’s right.” He grins, striding over to the net and leaning against it. “But”—his smile sobers— “I would never make you do something you’re not comfortable with.”

“A bet is a bet,” I say softly.

He cups my cheek, tucking a piece of sweaty hair behind my ear. “Not if it makes you uncomfortable.”

My lips part and I blurt out, “I’m a little intrigued.”

His eyes widen. “Seriously?”

I give a tiny nod.

Lust warms his eyes and his voice lowers. “If at any point you feel uncomfortable, you’re to tell me immediately. Understand?”

I nod.

“No, baby. I need you to say it out loud.”

“I understand,” I blurt.

He quickly gathers our stuff up and leads me back to the club house. Since it’s early on a Monday it’s relatively empty.

He pulls me into the locker room, and I’m shocked at how small it is considering the size of the club. The second the door is shut behind us he has my back pressed against the lockers, mouth exploring the column of my throat.

Grabbing my leg, he pushes it up and around his waist.

“I mean it. The second you start to feel funny I’ll stop. Promise.”

“Mhm,” I whimper. “I-I thought you wanted me on my knees.”

His mouth finds my ear. “I want you any way I can have you.”

His fingers find their way beneath my shorts, and he grins against my mouth when he finds me without panties. That grin only grows more wicked when he finds how wet I am.

“You weren’t kidding,” he groans. “You are intrigued.”

“I’ve never done anything like this, but I trust you.”

He groans, pulling back to look me in the eye. “That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

I stifle a laugh and hold onto his shoulders. “That I trust you?”

“Yes,” he groans. “So fucking sexy knowing you trust me with your body. Can I take this off?” His fingers toy with the band of my jog bra. I nod, breathless and he groans, burying his head in my neck. “What did I tell you earlier, baby? I need your words.”

“Take it off.”

He doesn’t hesitate to push the bra up over my breasts.

“Arms up,” he tells me, and I do as instructed. He shoves the bra up my arms and off, dropping it behind his shoulders where it lands on the bench. “These fucking tits of yours. I dream about them. They’re so fucking perfect.”

I gasp when he swirls his tongue around my left nipple, lapping at it until it’s a stiff, taut peak. He gives the same attention to the one on the right. I squirm against him, seeking friction from the erection pressing against me.

“Do you think you could come like this?” he murmurs the question in a way that has me questioning whether or not he intends for me to answer. “I bet you could, but that’s a challenge for another day. This is going to be dirty and quick.”

He sets me down and rips his shirt off over his head. When his hands go to his shorts, I shake my head and drop to my knees in front of him. I look up between my lashes at him.

“You don’t have to, Whim.”

“A promise is a promise.”

He lets me pull his shorts down, his cock nearly smacking me in the face. “That wasn’t very nice,” I scold it.

His body shakes with laughter and I’m certain his dick would hit me if I wasn’t gripping the base.

“Are you talking to my dick?”

“Yeah, it almost smacked me. That was rude.”

He shakes his head. “Oh, Whimsy girl. You?—”

I shut him up when I take his length into my mouth. God he’s big. Long and thick. Almost too much, but somehow the perfect amount for me.

He stumbles back but catches himself. Reaching down, he pulls my hair back in his fist.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs lowly. “I’m never getting sick of the sight of you on your knees with those plump lips wrapped around my cock.”

I let him go with a pop, wiping my saliva off my mouth with the back of my hand. “You like making a mess of me?”

His eyes darken. “You have no fucking idea.”

When I go to take him in my mouth again, he grips me by the shoulders and pushes me toward the bench. “Bend over.”

I do as I’m instructed, and he yanks my shorts down to my knees. My ass in the air for him and anyone else that might open the door.

It’s vulnerable and sends a shiver down my spine, but I don’t tell him to stop.

The ripping of foil meets my ears a moment later, the packet falling to land somewhere by my feet.

“This is going to be quick,” he warns, and doesn’t give me a chance to reply before he’s pushing his way inside me.

I cry out, wrapping my fingers around the bench to hold on.

He rests a hand on the center of my back, the other on my hip. He guides me back against him to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Oh my god.” I bite my lip. “That’s so good.”

“Your pussy was made for my cock. You take me so good, baby.”

I moan as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside me. “Fuck,” I moan. “Right there.”

“You’re close already?”

I whimper, nodding my head. “Yes.”

“You’re so fucking responsive, Whim. Fuck you’re so fucking beautiful.” He smooths a gentle hand over my ass cheek before bringing it down in a sharp slap.

I can’t control it—the orgasm shatters through me and I nearly collapse on the bench. I think I would if he wasn’t there to grab me. He pulls me up until I’m standing with his cock still buried deep inside me. His fingers wrap around my throat as he thrusts into me.

“Nothing is better than the way you come on my cock,” he murmurs, lips wet against my neck. “It’s a crime I haven’t been fucking you longer. We have so much lost time to make up for.”

I whimper, my nails digging into his thigh.

When I come again, he holds me through it, and when it’s over he pulls out of me and lifts me up. My back hits the lockers and I shiver from the cold metal. But any feeling of discomfort is quickly forgotten when he pushes back into me, and his mouth finds mine.

Kissing Elias is my new favorite pastime. He’s an expert at it. If I dwell on that fact too long, I might get jealous, but I’m certain we’re it for each other, so I can’t be too mad if I’m the one who gets to have him for the rest of our lives.

“Do you think you can come again?” he asks, lips brushing mine with each word.

“I don’t know.”

He must take that as some sort of challenge, because his fingers find my clit and he rubs the sensitive nub of nerves in the way I’ve shown him I like.

“Come on, baby,” he encourages. “I know you can do it.” I bite down on lip as my vision blurs around the edges. “You’re almost there. Don’t hold back.”

It doesn’t feel possible, but I come again, and he reaches his climax right behind me. He holds me tight as my body goes boneless.

When we’ve both managed to regain our breath, he sets me down and pulls my shorts up for me, tossing me my top. “Restroom is there,” he points.

While he dresses, I hurry to go pee—again surprised to find only one private toilet area with a urinal. Washing my hands, I come out of the bathroom to find him dressed and waiting.

“Why is this locker room so small?”

“Because it’s reserved for professionals.”

I blink at him, my mouth parting. “You mean … there was no chance of us getting caught was there?”

He pretends to think about it. “No, not really.”

“Elias.” I swat him lightly and he catches my hand, lacing our fingers together.

“Don’t be mad. You liked the thrill of it, didn’t you?”

He has me there. “Yes,” I admit.

“So, you got the thrill without the consequences.” He tugs me in for a kiss. “I can up the ante next time.”

I snort. “Let’s not talk about a next time yet, buddy.”

He grins in a self-satisfied sort of way. “We’ll see.”