Duncan lifts his head from my breasts to look down at me, towering over me as he reaches for the waistband of his jeans. He unsnaps and pushes, and there it is . . . his perfect, steel-hard cock. I've never seen anything sexier or scarier in my life. I don't know if I can take it all, not with the power and danger wrapped up in the rest of his body.
“Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it.”
I'm nodding, knowing that he’s telling the truth. Duncan's grin tells me that he knows my thoughts, and he guides himself inside me, my pussy spreading and wrapping around his cock until he's all the way inside me.
Holy shit. Just a single, deep stroke, and I'm nearly coming already, my hands clutching at my breasts and pinching my nipples. I can't help myself. He grins and slips a finger into my mouth, and I suck while he starts to thrust in and out, my mind obliterated with each movement of his cock inside me. I've never felt something like this before, complete and total pleasure, my body taken by this powerful man who knows exactly how to light every nerve in my body on fire.
I'm making noises, noises I never knew I could make, animalistic and thick as he slides in and out of me, his cock sending tremors up my spine each time. "Can you take it all?" he asks suddenly, and I look to see that he's still restraining himself, his fingers shaking because he's keeping himself under such tight control.
I look into his beautiful gray eyes and nod, smiling. “Don’t hold back.”
The look in his eyes at my words lights a fire in my heart as much as his cock is lighting a fire in my pussy, and his hips speed up, powerfully driving his cock into me. The first shocking impact sends me into spasms, nearly convulsing as he hammers into me over and over, driving me insane with sensation. My God, it feels so good, and he's still going, those hips and legs giving him immense, overwhelming power that crushes me into the bed. He takes my other leg and pushes it up, pinning me as his cock slams over and over into me, his eyes boring deep into my soul.
"You can come now," Duncan whispers, and suddenly, I'm there, as if I was waiting for his permission, riding the immense wave of my orgasm as Duncan shudders right along with me. I'm being bred like some sort of bitch, and I know that for Duncan, I'd be his bitch if he wanted it. Anything to feel this good. "You're mine."
"Yours . . ." I whisper, slowly coming back to reality as I realize I'm not in a bed surrounded by white gauze curtains and tropical birds, and the whisper of the ocean breeze is actually the fan on my laptop. My hands are damp and my room reeks of sex, not the heady sense of real sex, but just the lonely aroma of my masturbation.
Damn Duncan Hart. Damn that cocky bastard.
Chapter 5
Duncan
Two weeks, two away games, but it doesn't matter as I run onto the field at Farmington University, our away whites gleaming in the sun. They can't stop me, and the only bad thing about coming to Farmington is that they have a smaller stadium than Western, holding only sixty thousand instead of our eighty.
"You gonna put on a show again today?" Charlie Peters, one of our defensive backs, asks as we all gather on the sidelines for the kickoff. "I've got fifty bucks saying you get two touchdowns."
"Hope that means you took two and up," I shoot back, smiling. "You keep doing that, and you'll make plenty of money this year."
"We'll see. Nobody can keep up the pace you're on for a whole season," Charlie replies. "I mean, you're going to be breaking records by Thanksgiving if you keep this up. Shit don't work that way."
"You mean it doesn't work for other people," I reply. I look around at the crowd, and feel their power soaking into me and filling my body with their energy. Nobody understands the power of the crowd that way, the rush . . . the recognition. Duncan Hart, world-beating tight end, not Duncan Hart, son of Winston Hart.
I put my Dad out of my head and focus on the game. We're going on defense first, so I slap Charlie on the shoulder as he straps up. "Go get 'em. I hate trying to play both ways."
"Yeah, right!" Charlie calls, jogging out on the field as Coach Bainridge calls for the starting defense. I watch him go and settle into the game, flexing my arm as I feel the tape. Coach Taylor did the job this week, and it feels different, not quite right, but it'll get there. Still, it's not Carrie's work, and I'm not sure I like it all that much.
Pretty soon, though, we get the ball, and it's my turn. Let's go to work.
Three weeks into the season, and Western's knocking on the door of a top ten ranking in the polls, and it's all due to me. Tyler, our quarterback, is even getting some sniffs from pro scouts, who are wondering if his play is because of him or because of the talent surrounding him. Of course it’s the talent around him. “On three. Ready, BREAK!"