Bending Bethany Read online

  “That’s it. You’re so sexy when you’re turned on,” I whispered and plucked at the nipple with my teeth before rolling it around on my tongue.

  She moaned and bucked, her hand grasping at her breast through the bra as I tasted the other. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

  “No, I-I dunno,” she murmured incoherently, lust hazing her brain.

  “How about I tell you what I want?” I pulled a bra strap down one shoulder and traced the tan line with my tongue. “I want your thighs open wide for me.” I pushed her thighs apart. “I want to feast on your cunt. I want to taste you on my tongue for the next week.” I ran my nose along her exposed mound. “And then I want to fuck you so hard we both forget our names,” I finished, my fingers sliding between the velvety heat of her pussy lips.

  “Jenson!” She clutched at the cushions of my couch.

  “Yeah, baby?” I grinned, knowing I had her at a disadvantage with my fingers buried deep inside her. There was no turning back now.

  “Please, I want to feel you.”

  “Want to feel what? Say it.” I forced the dirty words from her mouth, the idea of corrupting her innocence and naiveté turned me on even more.

  “Your penis. I want your penis buried inside me,” she begged in a rush, and my cock flexed painfully in my pants. I smiled at how she wouldn’t say “cock.”

  I palmed my dick, trying to relieve some of the pressure, trying to prolong some of the sweet agony. I slid my finger to the hilt deep inside of her, then added another, slowly stretching her, knowing she’d need to be prepared for me.

  “You’re going to feel so good,” I whispered, nipping at the flesh of her neck, teasing the little marks with my tongue to caress the bite away. “So fucking good I don’t even think I’ll be able to think straight.”

  I traced my tongue across the line of her thigh, then inhaled the sweet smell of her delicious pussy. Tightening my hands at her knees, I buried my head between her thighs and tasted the sweet arousal pooling between her legs. “Goddamn, you don’t know what you do to me.”

  I caught the passionate flare of her eyes before I figure-eighted my tongue at the tight bud of her clit. “I want all of you tonight. Don’t hold back on me, baby,” I crooned, then pushed my tongue through the aroused flesh of her pussy lips and lapping at her core.

  “I-I’m going to cum.” Her legs tensed and tightened around my ears as I grabbed her ass cheeks in my palms and pulled her to me, feasting on her body, just like I’d promised.

  “Not yet, baby. I want your sweet pussy to cum all over my cock.” I removed my mouth from her sensual body and crawled up her form, taking her face in my palms and thrusting my tongue between her lips. She moaned, her hands pushing through my hair while I pulled the zip on my jeans, releasing my burning cock from my pants as we kissed, desperate to get inside her.

  “Hurry,” she begged. “I promise I’m clean.”

  “I am too, baby. I’ve gone without for so long, and even before then I always used protection.” I grasped my dick in my palm and eased it between her juicy pussy lips. “But with you, I want to feel every raw inch of you. I’ll use a condom if you ask me to, but I really want you bare, sweetheart.”

  She moaned and writhed, nodding vigorously as she wrapped her tiny fist around my cock and slid my length up and down her slit, coating me in her juices, paying close attention to rolling the tip over that hungry little bud of hers.

  “Jenson,” she breathed as her hips jerked.

  It was all the confirmation I needed. I slid past the tight flesh of her pussy, relishing the feel of her tight muscles flexing and warming my cock. Her soft pants and moans, the way her hand shot into her hair and mussed it around her shoulders while she begged for more, she drove me wild.

  “You feel so damn good. God, I could stay buried in you forever.”

  Her eyes shot open, riveted on where we were locked together.

  “If that’s how you look with my cock deep inside your hungry pussy, I may never let you leave.” I pulled her up my body, forcing her to lock lips with me as I pushed the rest of the way inside her. My hips flexed, mimicking the thrust of my tongue between her supple raspberry lips.

  “I’ve never felt anything like this.” I jerked, and her inner walls clenched and tightened around my member. “So sweet, so tight, so responsive,” I muttered, my tongue devouring the inside of her mouth. I was determined to walk around in her scent for the next week.

  “This is incredible. You feel incredible.” Her words melded together as her hips started to pitch wildly, her thighs tightening around my waist as I clutched at her ass cheeks.

  “Fuck, so beautiful.” I plunged my hand between us, rolling my thumb over the sensitive bud of her slit as her nails clutched at the muscles of my back and a guttural howl gasped from her lips.

  My own release followed moments later, spurred on by her insatiable bucking, and both of our bodies fell, limp and sticky against the couch. Our chests inflated feverishly as we gasped up the oxygen between us.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered, running a hand through her wild locks of cocoa hair.

  “Yeah,” was the only reply I could manage.

  “Should we do that again?” Her chest was still heaving with pants.

  “My thoughts exactly.” I dove between her legs, anxious to get my fill of her again. But this time in my bed. I needed this girl in my bed.

  Three

  Bethany

  I woke the next morning with a faint pounding in the back of my head. Scrubbing at my face, I glanced down to find myself twisted in the sheets. I sighed and stretched, feeling sore in a wide, new array of places. Right then, as I trailed my fingers tracing circles in the softness of the fabric, the fog lifted and my less than moral actions from last night combusted in my memory. I slowly turned to see the handsome stranger from last night soundly asleep beside me. Well, at least I didn’t have rose-tinted glasses. The man was definitely what Taylor would call “fine.” He had a perfectly chiseled face, muscles that were rock hard and well sculpted, and big hands. Their size matched up with another large member on his divine body...

  I tore the sheet off me and sat up in bed, startled to find I was wearing nothing but my birthday suit. Here I was in all my naked glory. I looked around for my clothing. To my horror, I saw my dress was on the floor in multiple pieces. Jenson had apparently shredded it. In a frantic panic, I found a large New England Red Bulls jersey and tossed it over my head. I couldn’t wear just this jersey, even though it was longer than that flimsy fabric I was wearing last night.

  I just needed to get out of there. I quickly went to the bathroom to make sure I didn’t look like a morning after nightmare. I found a new toothbrush tucked in a drawer.

  I finished my teeth and ran a brush through my hair, thinking it looked especially wild this morning. I grabbed a lock and pulled it across my nose, taking a whiff and expecting to find the scent of stale cigarette smoke.

  Instead, I was hit with a wave of heady arousal.

  Notes of leather and spice filled my nostrils. Ice-blue eyes. A reckless mop of dark hair.

  Oh God.

  “What did I do?” I squeaked before tracing my lips with my fingertips, feeling slightly bruised from too much kissing. I didn't think I'd had that much to drink, but apparently the shots and the music and everything about him had gone to my head. Snapshots of last night flooded me. I didn't do things like this, impersonal sex was never on my agenda, what was I thinking?

  “Shit.”

  I ran out of there like a bat out of hell, with nothing on but a soccer jersey.

  Damn. Shit. Fuck.

  When I got home, I saw Taylor sitting at the breakfast nook with a cup of coffee in her hand and a smug smile on her face.

  “So, you look like you had a fun night. I am digging the new dress. It may be a bit shorter than the previous apparel you were donning.”

  “I was a little drunk last night, I guess,” I offered lamely.


  “I would say so considering you didn’t get home till two minutes ago.”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t remember what you did last night, Little Miss Responsible.” Her eyes grew wide when I didn’t reply. “Oh my God! This is rich! You just had your first one-night stand and you don’t even remember it!” she squealed, jumping up and down and clapping her hands like a poor excuse for a cheerleader.

  “Taylor!” I sent her the angriest frown I could muster. “It’s not funny.”

  “Well…little sis of mine…are you sore, ya know,” her eyes darted down, “down there?”

  My eyes widened in horror, and I stopped to actually consider her question. I shifted my thighs back and forth, trying to ignore the aching abdominals and bruised glutes to focus on my vagina.

  “Oh God.” I moved a hand over my mouth, a definite unfamiliar pinch from somewhere down deep inside.

  “You did!” she shrieked again, making me cover both of my ears.

  “Shut up! The neighbors will hear,” I seethed. “Now what do I do? I’ve never done this before. What’s the protocol?”

  “What do you mean?” She turned her head in confusion.

  “Well, I mean, will I never see him again? I feel like such a whore.” I suddenly had the urge to shower away the shame. Did I regret last night with Jenson? No, I guess I couldn’t if I wasn’t even quite clear on it yet, but that didn’t stop the guilt of the one-night stand from eating at me. “I don’t know how you do this all the time.”

  “Hey, hooker. Not all the time.”

  “Did you give him your number?”

  “Um…I don’t really remember.”

  “You’re a classy one. First night out and you get yourself in this kind of trouble,” she teased.

  “Well, what about you? Where did you end up last night?” I countered.

  “Right here, thank you very much. I was home earlier than normal.”

  “Oh?” I knew there was more coming. There was always more coming with my sister.

  “And Luc.” I heard the smile in her sing-song reply.

  “You brought him back to our place? Now he knows where we live!”

  “Hey! I got Luc’s number. I’m a pro, remember?”

  I growled, unable to form any other intelligent reply. I stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind me.

  I returned to my room and pulled out my customary uniform of leggings and an oversized tee before jumping in the shower to wash away last night’s shame. After soaping up and rinsing off, I headed back for my room, spotting the clutch I’d used last night. I rifled through the contents, hoping it would jog my memory.

  My phone, wallet—cards all still intact—ChapStick, keys, and a folded note.

  A note?

  I flipped it over in my hands and read the chicken scratch.

  555-3434

  His phone number.

  “Damn,” I said. This required I make a move. I didn’t have time for more, no time for dating. I had to keep my head in the game if I was going to graduate with honors.

  I shoved the note back into the clutch, burying it where I wouldn’t have to be reminded of him. I stretched, falling back on the pillows and burrowing into the warmth of my blankets. My eyelids felt like they were weighted down with lead, the drinks from last night still pulsing through my bloodstream as a hangover took hold. I covered my head with a pillow and succumbed to sweet sleep, the only escape from him.

  “Bethany!” My sister’s scream shattered the precious cloud of sleep I’d been floating in the last few hours. I launched out of bed and down the hallway, my heart slamming against my rib cage expecting to find god knows what when I finally reached the living room.

  “So, Jenson, anything you want to say to the fans after last night’s winning triple?” I froze, a familiar face splashed across the television screen.

  “Yeah, actually. Thanks so much to everyone for supporting me. Your signs and cards and messages mean so much.” Jenson paused as my heart thundered in romantic beats. “And to the special girl I met last night…I’ve got something of yours I’d like to return. Call me.”

  I nearly crumpled to the floor as a wave of sheer embarrassment flamed my cheeks.

  “Well, this just got interesting,” Taylor commented from across the room.

  Mother. Fucking. Fuck.

  Four

  Jenson

  It may have been a dick move, but I was desperate to get her attention. I knew she wouldn’t call. I knew when I had woken up and found her missing that the likelihood of her picking up the phone to call me was slim to none.

  When I’d woke and saw her missing, I’d wanted nothing more than to find her. So I’d put on my sneakers and jogged down the street, aiming for the park, which is where I’d ran into that up and coming sports reporter. I’d seen him at a few games, and when his eyes had caught sight of me he’d jogged right up, phone held up and already recording.

  The impromptu video interview was already hot fodder on the cable news networks by the time I’d returned from my jog. Even if she didn’t catch it on television, it would surely go viral on social media over the next few days.

  Flashbacks of last night bombarded my brain. Kissing her against the front door, bending her over my kitchen counter. I’d seen that wild, uninhibited look in her eyes and damned if I didn’t want to see it again and again. By the time the sun rose on the Manhattan skyline, I knew I needed her.

  I wanted more time with this girl. I loved when she’d ribbed me. Loved to be the butt of her jokes and the one to put that giant smile on her face.

  Memories of last night flashed through my mind.

  I was lucky to have even been out last night as I often preferred to keep to myself, but after the big win yesterday, the guys had convinced me to celebrate. I’d promised one beer, and I’d held my limit, but once my eyes had landed on the dark-haired girl with the bashful smile across the room, I’d known the night was over for me.

  I wasn’t like Luc, interested in picking up girls, and getting rip-roaring drunk. I was happy sitting next to her at the bar, soaking up the glow about her, deflecting her barbs like a champ.

  And it wasn’t often I had a mic shoved in my face—I avoided them if at all possible—but when the reporter had caught me on my jog in Central Park this morning and asked me a million questions about the game-crushing win last night, there was only one thought on my mind.

  Her.

  Like a robot, I’d sputtered out my message. His eyes had widened when I finished, so what could I do then but offer a rakish half grin?

  I was already front-page gold for the tabloids anyway. Let them chew on this one for a while. Only difference was, the others were fantastical stories, public relations spins if I took a friend out to a gala, but this, this was something.

  I grinned when I thought of the little present I had tucked away in the pocket of my athletic bag.

  Her panties.

  And you can bet I would have kept them if I could have gotten away with it, but instead of stewing and waiting for her to find that damn note, I pulled the trigger and ran with the best play available. The Panty Play.

  Five

  Bethany

  “He has my panties, Taylor!” I shrieked, nearly splitting my own eardrums.

  “Okay, okay, I see you’re upset. I know this isn’t common for you, so I want you to know, as your big sister, I’m here for you.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. “Now calm the fuck down.”

  I scrunched up my nose at her in disdain. “Easy for you to say. You didn’t screw a pro soccer player and have him announce that he has your panties all over national television!”

  “I know, you’ve always been the lucky bitch,” she grunted, and I swung a pillow at her head. “So obviously you have to go talk to him.”

  “What? No, he can keep the panties. I just hate that he announced it all over TV. And the fact that he lied—you know he told me he worked in the Athletics department?”

  “Well,
he kinda does.” Taylor shrugged unhelpfully.

  “Stop defending him!” I swung my other pillow at her head.

  “Okay, okay,” she giggled, then curled up with the pillow I’d just tossed at her. “Seriously…was he good?”

  “Taylor—”

  “I’m not kidding. Do you want to see him again? It’s a valid question. I mean, obviously, he wants to see you.” She popped a Cheeto in her mouth and crunched obnoxiously. “And what if you left more than just your panties? Maybe you left a credit card or something? Did you check? I think you should call him.”

  “Taylor, you know you’re not of much help.”

  “Hey, just because you don’t like my opinion doesn’t make it unhelpful. I happen to think Jenson Abbott, star player of the New England Red Bulls, might be good for you.”

  I arched an eyebrow at her.

  “I Googled him.” She shrugged and popped another Cheeto in her mouth.

  “Great. I’ve got a sex-on-a-stick soccer player mentioning me in interviews, and you’re practically pushing me into bed with him. I don’t know why I still live with you.”

  “Because you’re broke and you can’t afford rent anywhere else,” she offered simply.

  I huffed, narrowing my eyes at her. “Get out of my room. Leave the Cheetos.” She snagged one last cheesy bite, then waved as she sauntered out of the room, closing the door and leaving me some much needed privacy as she went.

  I picked up Jenson’s note, having tucked it safely in my nightstand. Flipping over the bleached white paper in my hands, I traced his slanted handwriting with my finger. I sighed and picked up my phone.

  I punched in the few numbers, then felt butterflies climbing up my esophagus as it rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Jenson? Uh, hi. It’s me, I mean, it’s Bethany.” I pushed a hand through my hair and tried to refrain from audibly sighing. I was no good at this stuff.

  “Bethany! I’m glad you called.” His voice warmed instantly, sending lava charging through my delicate veins.