Chapter 20

Foster

As I pull into the garage, Mazzy is still doubled over, laughing hysterically about a story from my childhood. It involved my older sister, Marisol, using a Sharpie to color a goatee and thick eyebrows on me while I slept. She’s eight years older than me and was babysitting on a school night as my parents were out of town at a convention.

“I can just imagine you,” she chortles, wiping under her eye with her forefinger, “walking into school looking like that. I think your sister might be my hero.”

“I can laugh about it now but damn if I wasn’t humiliated by it.”

Mazzy breaks out into peals of laughter again, which makes me grin. We only drank the one bottle of wine, but apparently two glasses makes Mazzy very buzzed.

I knew she’d enjoy the story because like her own experience, I’m also close to my family. Marisol was mature enough to watch over me when our parents traveled for business. I was pissed at her about something and told her boyfriend that she practiced kissing him in the mirror. It was a school night and without hard-core direction, I wasn’t the best at getting myself ready in the morning. Marisol knew that and didn’t hound me to brush my teeth, which probably would have facilitated me looking in the mirror to see the Sharpie all over my face.

But no.

She walked me all the way to school… five blocks of passing people and not seeing the funny looks on their faces all because I told her boyfriend her secret. I should have known by the gleam in her eye as she gave me a pat on the head and wished me good luck as I walked into the school.

“Did she get in trouble?” Mazzy asks.

I turn off the truck and glance over at her. She looks fucking stunning with her eyes all glimmering from laughter, face flushed from the wine. “Oh yeah… got in big trouble with my parents but if you ask her, to this day, what her greatest accomplishment in life was, she’ll point back to that and say it was in the top five.”

“I love her,” Mazzy exclaims.

“I’m sure you’ll meet her soon. She’ll come to some home games when her schedule allows, as will my parents.”

Marisol is an international flight attendant and my parents are professional speakers who travel the country talking about leadership, customer service and organizational performance.

Mazzy grabs the truck handle, swings the door open and slides free. I note the slight, tipsy bobble in her step, but she manages to meet me around the front and I follow her up the few short stairs into the kitchen.

We had decided prior to our date that she was going to stay at the house tonight because I have an early workout scheduled with some of my teammates. It’s why I picked her up at her bedroom door although I plan to bestow a good-night kiss no farther than the base of the stairs.

Mazzy precedes me in and I chuckle when she dumps her purse on the counter before leaning against it to remove first one high heel, then the next.

She sighs in relief as she sinks down to the tile floor, giving me a playful smile. “So happy to have those off my feet.”

“Those shoes look like they’d hurt,” I muse as I drop my keys and phone next to her purse.

“Oh, they don’t hurt,” she says with a tinkling laugh. “They’re just hard to walk in when I have a buzz.”

I shrug out of my suit jacket, placing it across one of the stools, and give her a mocking smirk. “I didn’t know you were such a lightweight.”

“Never been a big drinker,” she replies, turning to face me with her arm resting on the countertop. No more than a foot separates us, and she has to tip her head back to maintain eye contact. “But I can resoundingly say I like the way two glasses of wine makes me feel.”

The way she’s staring at me with her eyes full of mischief emboldens me. “Feel good enough to let me kiss you?”

“Pick back up where we started in your bathroom?”

She moves a few inches closer and I don’t feel an ounce of remorse when my eyes stray down past her face to her cleavage. I’d managed to ignore it all night as the conversation was so good, but right now?

It’s distracting.

“Minus the cut finger,” I murmur, moving my hand to brush her hair behind her ear, for no other reason than I want to touch her.

“This is it, huh?” Her voice is breathy and expectant.

“Unless you tell me no.”

“Not going to tell you no.”

“Then I’m going to kiss you,” I promise.

For a moment, we just stare at each other. Mazzy waits for me to make the move. I’m trying to figure out the best way to kiss her.

Ultimately, I opt to slide my fingers along the side of her neck, curling them around the back. It lets that gorgeous fall of hair glide against my skin.

Mazzy gasps at the gesture, which is not just intimate, but slightly possessive when I give a light squeeze.

Dipping my head, I brush my lips across hers—nothing more substantive than a ghost’s touch. Mazzy’s breath mingles with mine and my heart pounds. I lift my head just enough so I can see her expression. Her eyes are closed but they flutter open, a mesmerizing blend of nerves and excitement swirling in those green depths.

I kiss her again and this time when our lips touch, I feel a surge of warmth, a profound connection that sends a shiver down my spine. Mazzy’s mouth opens to mine with the barest of tentative pressure from me and I begin a slow exploration.

Mazzy makes a tiny sound in the back of her throat, and I could be reading into it, but it sounds needy.

I’m electrified by her reaction and deepen the kiss by sliding my other arm around her back. I pull her into my body and her hands go to the nape of my neck. Without shame, she presses against me, and my body instantly reacts.

That means I need to slow the fuck down because this is just supposed to be an end-of-first-date kiss and I don’t want Mazzy to see—rather feel—how much she’s turning me on.

I try to disengage but she doesn’t let me pull away. Her hands tighten and she takes control of the kiss, her tongue swiping aggressively against mine. There’s no stopping the groan she pulls from deep within me.

I move my hands to the sides of her head so I can retake control. I nip at her lower lip before I pull back and wait patiently for those drowsy eyes to open and look at me.

When she does—gaze dreamy—I say, “I had a great time tonight.”

“That sounds like the kiss is over,” she replies.

“It needs to be over,” I mutter, bending down and brushing my lips against hers.

In response, she burrows against my body, her belly rubbing against my erection. “I don’t want it to be over.”

“Jesus, Mazzy.” She grins up at me playfully. “You’re buzzed and I’m turned on beyond measure. It’s a recipe for disaster. So get your gorgeous body up the stairs and go to bed.”

“Gorgeous body, huh?”

“It’s among your many admirable qualities,” I assure her.

“Okay… but one more kiss,” she demands. I start to bend down but she amends, “And make it really good.”

I see the flash of her teeth in a wide smile before I bring my mouth down on hers, and I give her a really good kiss. It’s slow but deep, my tongue mating with hers and doing all the twisting, stroking things I’d like to be doing to her elsewhere.

Mazzy’s hands tighten on my neck again and she rubs against me. I hiss because her body glued to mine threatens my control, so I release my hold. With a much-needed step backward, I take her in.

Face flushed, chest heaving, eyes slightly glassy but filled with lust. If it weren’t for those two glasses of wine she had, I’d take her to my room. As it stands, I can’t tell if that dazed look is from a buzz or lust, and I can’t take the chance that alcohol is affecting her reasoning.

“I’m not drunk,” she proclaims. I know she’s not a mind reader, but my thoughts must have been apparent in my expression.

“No, I don’t think you are. But you aren’t completely sober either.”

“I’m sober enough to make adult decisions,” she fires back and steps toward me. I’m not afraid of her and I don’t move, even when she places a palm on my chest. The heat of that touch does nothing to quell the lust rising within me. That confident gleam in her eyes makes it even worse.

“I’m not having sex with you,” I say adamantly.

“But you would if I were sober?” she asks.

I’m just as inquisitive. “Would you want me to?”

I get the famous Mazzy Archer eye roll. “Of course, I would. Do you think I’m trampy for wanting that, especially since this was a first date?”

“Fuck no, I don’t think that. It’s a turn-on when a woman knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to express her sexuality.”

Triumph lights up those green eyes and she grabs my hand, turning toward the hall that leads to the master bedroom. “Good… I feel empowered. Let’s go have sex.”

“Mazzy,” I groan, twisting my hand so it wraps around her wrist and I’m the one who has her captured. I stop her momentum, turn her around and pull her into me. With just my hold on her wrist, our arms lodged between our bodies, I keep my tone firm but gentle. “I’m not fucking you tonight. I want you sober when I’m deep inside you.”

Her eyes flare, then darken with interest.

“But,” I continue, dipping my head to give her a gentle kiss, “I’ll make you feel good tonight if you let me.”

I lift my head, stare down at her to gauge her reaction. She looks stricken with confusion. “What does that mean?”

“It could mean a back rub or it could mean a massive orgasm. I don’t feel compelled to tell you the details right now.”

Those green orbs glitter with desire. “Okay, I’m in.”

That’s good enough for me and for some reason, my moral compass will let me have my way with her but only to dole out pleasure and not take any for myself. However, the prospect of that actually sounds hot as fuck as I imagine Mazzy squirming under me, begging me to fuck her and I won’t.

My hands go to her ass and I haul her up my body. The dress rises to her hips as her legs spread and wrap around my waist. Her arms loop around my neck and she kisses me with that hot mouth of hers as I carry her to my bedroom.

Flipping on the light switch with my elbow, I’ve got a million ideas of what I’d like to do to her but one in particular that seems just right for the moment. I move to my bed, lie her down on it and order, “Don’t move.”

Mazzy doesn’t and she’s a fucking vision. Her dress is hiked up and I see a flash of white panties.

I quickly loosen my tie and undo the knot until the silver-striped silk is held loosely in one hand. “Put your wrists together.” There’s not an ounce of concern in her expression, only an upward tilt to her lips. Her wrists slam together and she holds them out to me expectantly. “That’s my girl.”

With one knee on the bed, I loop the tie around and through, securing it with a knot that I’ll be able to release with a hard tug. But rather than just leave it there, I pull her arms above her head and secure the ends of the tie to the wrought iron detailing that runs along the top of my headboard.

Mazzy gasps and her chest rises and falls. My eyes lock with hers. “You good?”

She nods emphatically. “All good.”

Standing straight, I take my time unbuttoning my shirt sleeves and I roll each one up to mid forearm. Mazzy watches me hungrily as I move to the end of the bed. With my hands to her calves, I spread her legs wide and crawl in between them, settling my weight there. My erection is nestled right against her core and her hips undulate to create friction.

“Stop that,” I chastise before I give her a hard kiss. She moans into my mouth and I bite down on her lower lip, causing her to buck.

Rolling to put my weight on one arm, I use my other hand to peel the front of her dress to the side. The wraparound style and stretchy material make it easy for me to bare a plump breast clad in white lace to match her panties. I drag my finger along the edge of it, my gaze cutting to her. Her body is completely still and she’s watching me like a hawk.

Dragging the cup of the bra down, I reveal a rose-colored nipple. There’s no stopping my mouth’s descent down to it and just before my lips close over the bud, I notice the smattering of freckles across her chest. I make a mental note to pay attention to them at some point because I find that part of the Mazzy Archer package sexy as fuck.

She mewls, and it sounds like she’ll die from what I’m doing to her, but she’ll also die if I stop. Lightly, I bite the stiff flesh and she bucks under me.

“Foster,” she groans.

“Want me to stop?” I ask, my lips playing over her breast.

“No. Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” I promise, lifting my head. “But I intend to have my mouth in other places. We’re about to get very intimate so if you want me to stop, I really need you to say so now.”

“I’ll kill you if you stop,” she pants. “But I get to do the same to you.”

“We’ll see.” No way in hell she’s touching me tonight. I’ve set my boundary. “But right now, I’m going to make you come hard.”

Her nostrils flare over the promise and her cheeks turn slightly red, but she doesn’t avert her gaze. It’s like she’s daring me to do exactly as I said I would.

Placing a last kiss on her breast, I slide my mouth down over her dress and use my hand to push the hem up higher from below. I move my body down hers until my face hovers over the panties I’ve only gotten a peek of.

They’re sexy in a very sweet way… plain cotton with a wide lace strip at the waistband. They ride high on her hips, and I trace my finger along the edge where more freckles dot the landscape of her pale skin.

I dip a finger under the fabric and muse out loud, “I wonder if you’re wet.”

Mazzy lifts her head from the pillow to watch me. She doesn’t say a word, but she squirms slightly.

“I bet you are,” I whisper, my gaze dropping down to the sweetness those panties are covering. My dick aches but I ignore it, slipping my fingers inside her underwear. I can’t help but groan as I find smooth skin, a sign that she waxes, and my mouth starts to water.

I glance up her body, find her eyes pinned on me with an intensity that makes me feel like writhing. I hold her gaze as I glide a finger through her slit and immediately find her wet.

Mazzy groans as I find her clit, circle it once and then press a finger into her. Her hips shoot off the bed as she cries out, “Oh, God, that feels good.”

I smile, pull my finger out and thrust it back in. Her flesh is hot and slick and I add a second finger.

“Foster,” she pants, rotating her hips.

I like my name on her lips. I like the sounds she’s making and I love the way her body tries to demand more of me. After a few more pumps of my fingers, I pull them out and massage around her clit with slow, gliding patterns. Mazzy moans—her breath ragged and uneven—and her hips jerk every time I graze over the top of that sensitive flesh.

“Mazzy,” I murmur, noting her eyes are closed. I wait for her to look at me and when I have her attention, I say, “Your pussy is so warm and wet. I know my cock would feel good in it.”

“I think it would too,” she gasps as I press down on her clit. “Why don’t you show me?” she demands.

Chuckling, I shake my head. “This is all about you. And when I do fuck you, you’ll see just how perfect we fit together.”

“Not fair,” she mumbles and then loses the ability to talk when I yank her panties down and replace my fingers with my mouth. She utters garbled words that make no sense. I attack her clit with my tongue, battering it with the need for her to come. She groans, bucks, and I think I make out a four-letter curse word, which makes me smile against her wet flesh.

Sucking her clit into my mouth, I press two fingers back inside her and that’s all it takes for her to splinter. Mazzy cries out, the force of her orgasm stiffening her entire body. I lazily lick her through the hardest of her tremors and when I look up her body at her, I find she’s staring at the ceiling, her breasts heaving.

Pressing a kiss to her lower belly, I pull my hand free and climb up her body. I hover over her, looking down to make sure she’s okay.

Her eyes slide to mine and she smiles crookedly. “That was amazing.”

“You’re amazing.”

“Untie me so I can do the same to you,” she orders like a little general.

“Nope.” Although a small part of me wants to go back on my promise to myself not to fuck her. My dick hurts. “Not until you’re fully sober.”

I go to my knees so I can use both hands to untie her wrists. I rub them gently once they’re released. I take a moment while she’s lying there all boneless and right her clothes. I pull up her panties, put her bra back in place and straighten her dress. Then I bend down to kiss her.

“This isn’t fair,” she murmurs, reaching a hand up to stroke my jaw. “You surely don’t believe that my principles are screwed up, do you?”

“Of course not,” I assure her.

“Good… because I’m a progressive modern woman who believes that sexual pleasure can and should be sought out in safe ways. I’m not loose and I don’t sleep around, and I would never have sex with someone I didn’t trust and know fairly well. I would never have a moment’s doubt going all the way with you because I trust you. I don’t believe you have to be in love with someone to share your body, but I have enough respect and care for you that there would never be a single regret.”

“I’ll be fine,” I assure her, although I really would love nothing more than to take a shower now and jack off to the memories of what I just did to her. “And I hear everything you’re saying. This is about me wanting to be sure.”

“You’re not being fair to me,” she says, and that catches me off guard. “I want to touch you. I want to feel you inside me.”

“Mazzy,” I say softly, apology in my tone.

“But I get it. I understand you have some sort of code because I drank some wine.”

“I just want you fully with me.”

She nods and the forlorn look on her face squeezes my heart. I roll to the side and pull her into my arms. She snuggles in close, arm going around my waist. I kiss the top of her head, ignoring how uncomfortable I am still in my dress shirt, pants, belt and shoes. I know she can’t be comfortable either.

Still, I don’t let her go. I don’t push her out of my bed.

I merely kiss the top of her head and ask, “Will you go out on another date with me?”