The Way We Touch: or Wrangling the Wide Receiver (The Bradford Boys)

My body is on fire. My nipples could cut glass, and my insides are slick as butter.

Pushing through my bedroom door, I lean my forehead against the wood doing my best to catch my breath. I was so close to fucking him right there in the kitchen. What’s gotten into me? Anyone could have walked into the room and caught us.

But this heat, this lust, this burning need…

Rubbing my thighs together, I unbutton my cut offs and shove my hand inside my underwear, between my legs.

It doesn’t take much to get me there. My fingers are slick with my arousal, and I rub up and down, around and around. I can still feel his soft lips pulling mine. I can still hear his voice low and groaning in my ear. The things I would do to you scare me…

“Oh, fuck,” I gasp as the orgasm tightens in my pelvis.

I want him to do those things. A thrill zips through my core at the thought, and I want his beard scuffing my skin again. I want his ragged voice speaking dirty words to me… I want to squeeze your ass and taste your pussy until you’re screaming my name.

He lifted me onto the bar in a sweep, and it was all over. I was lost to him. I was lost to his large hands kneading my breasts, his thumb sliding back and forth over the stiff peaks of my nipples.

My eyes squeeze shut, and a low whimper rips from my throat. I grasp a hand over my mouth to muffle my moans as my knees tremble and bend, my pussy flutters, and I wonder why the hell I ran from him. Who cares if they catch us? Who cares if it’s impulsive and too soon?

Sliding down the door to my knees, I’m breathing fast, coming down from that rocket high fueled by fantasies of Logan. I’m clenching and pulsing with fading orgasm, and I know why I ran from him, dammit.

He’s hot as fuck, and I’m so far past caring he’s football player. But he lives in New York. He’s leaving to go back to his life in two weeks. What am I, a masochist? Am I really considering doing this?

Reaching out, I hold the wall to help myself stand. My legs come together, and I feel it at once like a lit match touching my clit. The burn is unmistakable.

“Shit!” I shriek, dashing across the hall to the bathroom.

The clock is ticking as I fling open the cabinet doors, digging past the tampon boxes and extra bars of soap and shampoo and toilet paper.

Nothing.

“No no no no…” I jump to my feet, not even caring that my cutoffs are on the floor in my bedroom, and I’m only wearing a thong.

My pussy is burning, and I fly down the stairs at top speed. Dropping to my knees, I rip open the cabinets under the kitchen sink. I shove the dish soap aside and the Cascade bin and the Lysol spray and the garbage bags.

The fire is burning hotter, and I’m almost crying. I’ve got to find the extra tub of coconut oil.

I spin around the room trying to think. There’s only one last place to check. I don’t have time to worry about the consequences. Running into the guest room, I bang on the bathroom door and push through it at the first sound of his voice.

I barely notice him standing with a towel around his waist, water running down the lines of his muscles in rivulets. His face is stunned to see me in only a cropped tee and black thong.

“I’m sorry!” I fall to my knees, flinging open the doors of the cabinet beneath the sink. “Oh my God! Oh, thank God!”

I rip open the coconut oil and jam my fingers inside before quickly falling back on my ass and shoving them between my legs, rubbing them all over my blazing clitoris.

Leaning my back against the wall, my knees are bent. My eyes are closed, and I’m breathing fast as I grab more, rubbing it all over my burning pussy until the fire slowly begins to dissipate.

The pain starts to subside, and my hand drops to the floor beside me. My breasts rise and fall rapidly, nipples still erect, and I look up to see Logan standing over me, eyes bugged, lips parted. He might be drooling.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs. “What was that?”

Then it hits me what I did—what he watched me do.

For all he knew, I ran in here and masturbated on the floor at his feet. I was in a panic, but all he saw was me with my legs spread wide, rubbing oil on my pussy like a sex-crazed nympho.

Now I’m on fire with embarrassment. Jerking my knees to my chest, I wrap my arms around them and bury my head against my forearms.

“I’m sorry!” I wail. “I had no choice—I was desperate!”

“Don’t ever apologize for doing that… Shit.” I can’t look at him, but I can hear his confusion. “It was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

I exhale a groan, trying to imagine what was going through his mind. “I can never see you again as long as I live.”

“Damn straight you’re going to see me again. You are literally the sexiest woman I’ve ever known. First that dance, and then…”

“It was the Carolina Reaper. Some of the oil must’ve gotten under my fingernails or I didn’t wash long enough. It got there… in my coochie.”

He huffs a laugh, kneeling beside me. Large hands gently grip my arms, and he pulls them away from my face. I try to turn away, but he won’t let me. His finger hooks under my chin, and he forces me to meet his amused eyes.

“Are you saying you were touching yourself?” My lips tighten, and I hesitate, which only makes him more smug. “Did this have anything to do with me?”

My knees straighten, and I stand quickly, wanting to run away. But he holds me. “Let me go, Logan.”

“I will, but answer my question first. Did you get Carolina Reaper on your pussy because of our kiss?”

He’s kneeling on the bathroom floor, and I’m standing in front of him in the tiniest scrap of underwear, throbbing with post-orgasmic, post-hot pepper-panic adrenaline.

Looking up at me, he slides a large hand up the back of my bare thigh. “Answer me, Dylan. Were you fucking your hand and thinking of me?”

“Are you trying to embarrass me?”

“I would never embarrass you. I want to be sure you’re okay.” His palms are flat against the back of my thighs, and he’s looking up at me. “Are you?”

“I think so…”

“Want me to double-check?”

My lips part, and I look down into his lusty gaze. I’m pretty sure I know what he means, but still, I ask, “How would you do that?”

His left hand slides higher up the back of my thigh, and I gasp softly. My heartbeat is in my core as his fingertips trace the curve of my bare ass. He dips the index finger of his right hand in the tub and lifts a dab of coconut oil to the front of my thong.

“Is this okay?”

Oh, god… My back is to the wall and I only hesitate a moment before nodding. “Yes…”

His eyes darken, and he slides my thong to the side before placing his finger over my swollen clit. My body jerks to life, and a little cry escapes my throat as he starts to stroke me up and down, around and around.

I rock higher onto my toes with every touch. My mouth opens, and I exhale a soft moan. He meets it with a growl, and a fresh orgasm tingles in my thighs, snaking higher with every circle.

“Better?” His voice is rough, and I respond with a moan. “I should clean this off you so it doesn’t stain your clothes.”

“Okay,” I gasp.

“Will you let me use my tongue?”

Shit shit shit… My stomach trembles, and I want it so much. I’m gasping, and this is my last chance. If I say yes, everything will change between us. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to say no.

“Yes.”

Large hands grip my ass, and he pulls me forward as he covers my pussy with his mouth. My fingers dive into his hair, and I wail, arching my back as his tongue slides up and down, licking my clit and sliding all over my pussy.

My knees are liquid, and I groan out a Fuck as my hips rock in time with his movements, as the orgasm twists and builds tighter in my lower belly. I’m grinding against his mouth, pulling his hair, and riding his face as primal need takes over.

He’s eating me like a coconut cream pie with a dash of spice, and I’m whimpering and moaning like a cat. His thumb dips into my dripping core, curling and sliding in and out, and I cry out his name as I clench around it.

I’m fucking his face. I’m fucking his finger. I’m frantic and wild, moving all over him as the pleasure blazes through my bloodstream, until it’s too much to contain.

The orgasm rips through me like a current. It blanks my mind and shakes my legs. Shudders ripple through my belly, and he groans against my center as I ride it out, jerking against his mouth.

His thumb continues plunging in and out, working me, and he doesn’t stop until I’m too sensitive to go on. My legs are weak, and he eases me down to his lap.

Resting my cheek against his firm chest, my breathing gradually returns to normal. Strong arms encircle me, and he gently smooths my hair away from my cheeks. I feel his lips softly tracing the line of my hair. He’s holding me, soothing me as I slowly drift down to this planet.

Blinking a few times, I realize he’s still only in a towel, and his cock is a lead pipe beneath me.

Lifting my chin, I meet his lusty eyes, and the palpable desire in them tingles my stomach. He’s sweet and loving, and dirty as fuck. His full lips are shiny from the coconut oil and my come, and I reach up to slide my thumb over them, wiping it away.

“You’re a mess,” I whisper, straddling his waist with my knees.

“I think it’s fair to say we’re both a mess.”

My hard nipples press through thin cotton against his bare chest. He grips my ass in both hands, and I thread my fingers in his hair again, pulling gently.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” I tease.

He reaches up and grabs the back of my neck, closing the space between us. Our kisses are frantic and raw. Our lips part, and our tongues collide and slide, curling together as we consume each other.

He’s delicious, soft coconut and hard muscle. His cock taunts me against the back of my thighs, and I reach down, to stroke it. He’s thick and long. My fingers don’t meet around him, but I smooth them up and down. I slide my palm over the tip and a deep groan vibrates in his chest.

Large hands move from my ass beneath my T-shirt, and he lifts my heavy breasts, holding them to his mouth so he can suck and rake his teeth over my tight nipples. My core clenches, and I need more.

We’re past the point of no return, and I want him inside me. I want that fat cock stretching and massaging me.

Kissing my lips across his cheek, I speak in his ear. “Do you have a condom?”

“Yes.” His lips are on my jaw, sliding down the column of my neck.

Cupping his face, I lean back to meet his gaze. His dark hair is a sexy mess from my fingers, and his lips shine from the oil and my kisses. We’re vibrating and ready, but my brain sends up one last warning flare, one last chance to retreat.

As if he can read my mind, he moves his hands to my arms. “What’s the matter?”

“I need you to be straight with me.” I tremble asking this question, but I have to know. “Is this just a game, a summer fling to you? Or is it something else?”

“It’s not a fling, and it’s definitely not a game.” His brow tenses. “It feels… real. I’ve fantasized about being with you since the day I got here, since the moment you looked at me like you’d never seen a man before.”

Heat flashes in my cheeks, and I fail to hide my grin. “I’d never seen a man like you before.”

“But that was all lust,” he continues. “Now that I know you, I don’t want to be something you regret. You made a few things very clear to me from the start, and I don’t want to let you down.”

My stomach drops. “How would you let me down?”

“I can’t lie to you, Dylan.” His tone is serious, and I feel sick. “I’m not a golfer. I don’t even know the game.”

“What?” I squeal, and he breaks into a laugh.

“I’m only a football player. I know it’s not what you want. Maybe I can take lessons…”

“Logan Murphy!” Diving forward, I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my lips to his again.

I feel his smile as our mouths open and our tongues slide together. Is it possible this feels so good? Is it possible he’s stealing my heart right now?

“Get those panties off and get in my bed,” he growls. “It’s taking every bit of strength not to take you right here on this floor. You’re even more beautiful and sexy and responsive than I imagined, and my dick is so fucking hard right now.”

“Dylan?” Garrett’s deep voice at the bedroom door sends us both scrambling.

“Holy shit!” I’m off Logan’s lap so fast, I should be called lightning.

“Dylan, are you in here? I thought I heard screaming.”

Logan’s on his feet as well, wrapping the towel around my waist and cinching it. “Get out there.”

I’m shoved through the bathroom door, which he closes behind me, just in time to greet my oversized brother as he sticks his head into Logan’s bedroom. Thankfully, only the bedside lamp is on behind me, or I’m sure he’d see the scuff marks from Logan’s beard on my cheeks and neck.

“Hey, girl, what are you doing in here?” His voice is a stage-whisper, and he’s in a large white tee and maroon boxer briefs. “I thought I heard yelling and cabinet doors slamming.”

“Yeah,” I force a laugh, scrubbing my fingers over my forehead and wishing my heart rate would return to normal. “Somehow I got Carolina Reaper in my… nose.”

No way in hell I’m saying I got it on my pussy. I’d never hear the end of it.

He exhales a blast of air through his lips, shaking his head. “Oh, shit! Are you okay?”

“I am now, but I almost lost it trying to find the coconut oil. There wasn’t any in our bathroom upstairs or in the kitchen⁠—”

“Yeah, Craig took that tub we keep in the kitchen last week, and I carried the one from the upstairs bathroom down here.” He presses his lips together, not even questioning my presence in his best friend’s bedroom in only a towel and a T-shirt.

Everyone in my family knows the pain of capsaicin oil.

The door opens behind me, and I feel the heat of Logan’s body enter the room as distinctly as if he’d touched me. “Hey, man, your little sister was in here in a panic.”

“I can believe it! I’ve gotten that shit on my junk before, and I thought I was going to have to go to the hospital.”

“Apparently I had the coconut oil in my bathroom.”

“I searched the whole house.” I wave my hands, like it’s so bananas.

“Well, I’m glad everything’s okay.” Garrett stands at the door, waiting for me to return upstairs.

We all stand around for a solid two seconds before I huff a laugh and turn to give Logan a little wave. “Thanks again,” I say, not daring to meet his eyes for fear I’ll lose it.

“It was my pleasure.” The hint of a grin in his voice makes me spin away before I blush.

Even in a white undershirt and black boxers, he’s the hottest fucking thing—he might be even hotter. I can only assume he had those clothes with him in the bathroom.

“You didn’t do shit.” Garrett’s loud voice contains a laugh, and he has no idea what Logan did and how good it felt.

Still, he’s waiting for me at the door like a great big cock blocker. I guess he is a blocker on the field.

“Okay, then,” I say one more time, stepping into the hall and walking to the stairs like a child who’s been told they have to wait until Christmas morning to play with the gifts they’ve already found.

Garrett follows me, and when I get to the bottom of the stairs, I look over his shoulder to where Logan stands in the doorway watching me. I’m pretty sure he’s thinking the same thing I am. Dammit.

“Night, sis.” My brother squeezes the top of my arm as I go into the upstairs bathroom.

Flicking on the light, I see my scuffed cheeks in the mirror. I gasp when I see the red marks on my neck, thankful the dim light in the hall apparently hid them from Garrett’s sleepy eyes.

My pussy clenches again remembering how they got there, and where else Logan’s beard marked me. Looking down, there’s no mistaking the pink marks on my inner thighs.

I remember his strong hands gripping my ass as I rode his face. I remember his strong arms wrapped around my waist as he kissed me on his lap. I remember my fingers wrapped around his cock, sliding up and down as he groaned in my ear.

If my brother hadn’t walked in when he did, we’d be fucking right now. I’d be boning my brother’s best friend like I told Craig I wouldn’t.

Yet, here I am.

“What am I doing?” I laugh, rolling my eyes.

It’s too late for that question, and I know it. I’ve drunk from the well, and there’s no going back. The cap is off the bottle. The milk is spilled, and I intend to ride this wave to the end.

Grabbing a washcloth, I quickly step into the shower to wash the arousal, the orgasm, the makeup, and the rest of the day off my skin.