In Her Own League

In Her Own League — 24 Emmett

EMMETT

Reese is kissing me.

Again.

I could’ve sworn it was a one-time thing, but here we are, her soft lips nestled against mine. I’ve been dreaming of this, and I’d tell her that if my mouth wasn’t currently occupied.

She’s pure confidence in the way she holds my face in her hands, kissing me exactly how she wants. Confident in the way she just came over and sat on my lap like a goddamn queen taking her rightful throne.

Reese goes after what she wants. It’s one of the sexiest traits about her, and right now, she wants me.

I wish I could want someone other than you.

Those words feel like they’re etched into my chest, creating this desperate determination to ensure she never will.

I’m angry and turned all the way on.

Irrationally angry because some random guy was here in her vicinity.

Rationally angry that I can’t have her.

But right now, she’s sitting on my lap. Kissing me, so I should really tell my brain to shut up so I can focus.

This kiss is smooth, entirely in sync, as if the one and only kiss we shared before tonight made us experts in one another.

She pulls her mouth away, hands still cradling my skull, navy-blue eyes searching my face. Waiting for me to stop her. Waiting for me to be the

responsible one here.

Fuck it.

I’m tired of being responsible. I want to be selfish. And I’m certain, this is what I want. She’s who I want. Fighting with her already has me ready to combust, and for just once, I want to do the wrong thing.

“Did you lock the door?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Are there any cameras in here?”

I’ve never wondered until now. Never cared either.

This mischievous smile tilts on her lips.

“What’s that look for?”

“Wouldn’t that be fun to watch? A little gym porno.”

“Jesus,” I exhale. “Fancy Reese Remington sounds real good saying things like ‘porno.’”

“I’m not always fancy, you know. I can get dirty too.”

I hum at the thought, running my fingertips languidly down the column of her spine. “I can’t fuck you in the gym, Reese.”

Partly because she deserves better than that, and partly because I’m scared she’d regret it tomorrow. I couldn’t handle it if this woman looked at me with regret. I like her too much. Respect her too much.

Her shoulders instantly sag, this bratty little pout pulling on her lip.

“Cameras?” I ask again.

“No.”

“Good.” Leaning in, I run my tongue over her puffy lower lip jutting out.

“Don’t pout. You’re too much of a boss to pout about not getting your way.

I’m not going to fuck you here, but I’ll make sure to release some of that anger of yours.”

Her eyes trail down to the space between us, snagging on the bulge in my shorts, and my cock instantly jumps at her attention.

“You’re hard already.”

“Yeah. Well, this is what I look like when I want someone. Here’s your reminder, Reese. I walk around this clubhouse with a constant hard-on from my boss, not from some random reporter.”

She hums this satisfied sound, perfectly manicured hands landing on my shoulders. Those light-pink nails drift down my chest, over my abdomen, trailing south in a way that has my body fucking aching for her touch.

She draws a torturous circle through the line of hair just above my shorts before trailing south to toy with the elastic waistband.

“So, this is for me?” she asks.

“It’s because of you.”

“But is it for me?” Her eyes bounce up to mine, innocent and testing all at the same time. “You’re not going to fuck me, but do I get to touch it?”

Does she get to touch it?

Fucking please. She can touch it. Twist it. Lick it. Stroke it. Treat it like a fucking bop-it, for all I care.

Without waiting for my answer, Reese runs her palm over the front of my shorts and I’m officially dying. Because this has got to be what heaven feels like, right?

“Shit.” Head dropping back, I watch her. “Yeah, baby, you can touch it.”

Over my shorts, she wraps her hand around my cock and squeezes. And when she strokes me from root to tip, I watch those blue eyes widen as if she were mentally measuring my size.

I don’t ask her if she’s sure about this or give her a chance to second- guess. Because I know if I give either of us the space to think clearly about what we’re doing and where we’re doing it, this will abruptly end.

I’m amped all the way up, not thinking clearly, and I could not care less that, for tonight, I’ve given up the fight.

With my hips chasing her palm, pushing into her touch, I slip my hand into her hair, gripping the strands and pulling her mouth back to mine. I breathe against her parted lips, and it feels like my first deep inhale of fresh air after weeks since the last time I got to do this.

She’s everything, kissing me like I’m hers, stroking me like she owns me.

And for this moment, I let myself believe that I could be. That she does.

Reese wiggles against me, circling with need. She’s on my lap, but not flush to me, the empty space between our hips acting like the worst kind of tease. Though, I’m the lucky one who’s got her hand wrapped around me while she’s out there chasing nothing with her hips.

I’m so focused on her mouth, on the way her lips are soft yet sure, that I can’t concentrate on what I want to touch for the first time. I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who wants to play with every toy at once.

“Em,” she pants, pulling away to rest her forehead against mine. She must notice my tense fists, opening and closing, trying to figure out where to lay my hands first. “Touch me.”

“I can’t decide where,” I exhale on a laugh.

She smiles against me, a soft palm running through my beard.

“Everywhere would be a good start.”

I focus on her thighs, thick and balanced on my own, those light blue leggings of hers acting as a second skin. Then there’s her tits, heaving with labored breaths behind a matching sports bra that can barely hold her in.

And I can’t help but dream about feeling them pressed against me, maybe

getting my mouth wrapped around one. Her stomach curls over the waistband of her leggings, and fuck, I want to touch that too.

She’s squirming against me, a shuddering little mess, and it reminds me of exactly where I want to touch first. Where I need to touch first.

Smoothing my palms over her thighs, I languidly run them upward, and when they meet her hips, I curve them over, grabbing her ass and pulling her forward to rock against me.

She moves her hand out of the way, running it up my bare torso. And the small brush of friction, when her body finally rubs over mine, almost makes me come undone with that one single stroke.

“Oh,” she cries, cheek falling against my own, a single hand cradling the back of my head while the other grips the bench behind me. She curls her hips forward the slightest amount and her entire body shivers when her clit coasts over the head of my cock.

“That’s it,” I encourage. “Use me, Reese. Or let me use you.”

She agrees eagerly, letting me move her body exactly how I want, pushing and pulling her by her hips and good God, I’m going to come in my fucking shorts.

The fabric of her leggings creates this delicious slide against my cock, though I wouldn’t be mad if what’s left of our clothing could disappear. But then I’d just be tempted to slip into her, and like I said, I’m not going to fuck her here.

Her lips work a path over my throat as I allow my hands to explore. I curve them around her ass again, fingers toying with the seam of her

leggings.

She hesitates when I dip lower.

“Tell me to stop.”

“No. Keep touching me.”

And so I do, running my fingertips against the seam of her leggings, and reaching around to stroke them over her pussy, only to find the fabric there

is already damp with her arousal.

“Wet for me already?”

“Yes,” she breathes.

I stroke my fingers over her core one more time then give her ass a squeeze as I rock her against me. I continue my path, giving into the insane need to touch every inch of her. Both hands wander over her stomach and

up over her chest. My thumbs flick her nipples that are peeking out from behind her sports bra. Then I give those a squeeze too.

Reese moans this precious sound against my throat as she kisses over my stubble.

She’s fucking perfect in my hands, but of course she is.

“That feels good,” she whispers. “I like you like this. With your hands all over me. A little bit desperate.”

“A little bit? Fucking please.” I exhale a tortured laugh. “I’m fucking gone right now, but are you surprised?” Clamping a hand over her shoulder, I push her down onto me, making sure she can feel just how desperate I am.

“You did this to me. You walk around my clubhouse in those goddamn high heels and with that goddamn attitude, making me want you.”

She gasps as she lifts herself up, creating a bit of distance between our bodies to give herself a momentary break. I only give her a second before I press a palm against her lower back and push her back onto me.

“My clubhouse,” she exhales.

“What was that?”

Bending to put her lips close to my ear, she repeats, “My clubhouse.”

The rumble of my laugh quickly morphs into a moan when she wraps her teeth around the lobe and bites down.

I don’t know if I’ve ever been so turned on in my life. The pressure of her body rolling on mine. Her hard-earned breaths panting in my ear. The fact that she has to be firm and in charge out there, but when she’s with me, she’s soft and pliable, mostly giving up control.

I let my lips wander over her jawline, kissing a reverent path and making sure each one counts. That each one brands her skin and will make her remember me.

She writhes into me, her chest flush to my own, and fuck, it’s incredible.

Having her skin on mine. Having my arms around her. I’m so blissed out that all I can do is drop my head back and let her take over the pace for a moment.

Fucking euphoria, I swear, watching her get herself off on me. I’ve never been so happy to be used like a toy in my life. I could throw my hands behind my head and just let her bounce on me until she comes. It’d be the view of a lifetime.

When my head falls to the side, I catch our reflection in the mirror.

The dim lighting paints her curves with shadows, and I follow the way they dance along her body as she moves over me. A spotlight illuminates her face, and God, I don’t think she could get any more beautiful than she is right now.

It’s unreal, watching this woman on top of me. We look good together.

It’s no wonder the boys have been giving me so much shit about my boss.

Even I can see in the reflection just how gone I am for her.

“Look at us.” I nod toward the mirror. “Look how good you look riding me.”

Reese follows my line of sight, and I watch those blue eyes drag down the length of us, taking in the entire picture.

Her lips pop open but then close without saying anything.

“What are you thinking?”

Her eyes bounce over us again. “That it doesn’t look wrong.”

No. No, it doesn’t.

She’s mesmerized by the view, and I don’t blame her, but she’s so distracted by looking at the image of us, her hips have halted to a torturously slow pace grinding over me.

Coasting the backs of my fingers over her stomach, I dip them into the waistband of her leggings, and that earns her attention once again.

Wetness pools around my fingertips as I grip the stretchy fabric and yank

her forward, restarting her movements.

“You’re going to come,” I tell her.

It’s not a question, but more like an order.

Well, more like a statement, I suppose, because even if I wasn’t here telling her what to do, she’s close enough that it would happen anyway.

“Yes.”

Heat twines around my spine, simmering low in my hips, and I’m right there with her. And that feels like a war in itself. If this is my only chance to see it, I refuse to miss a second of watching Reese Remington fall apart on me simply because I’m too busy with my own orgasm.

With my fingers in her waistband, directing her movements, I let my thumb glide over the front of her leggings. One swipe and I find her clit with the pad of my thumb, rubbing tight little circles over the damp fabric.

“Fuck, Em.” She falls forward with a shudder, her body unable to keep herself upright. Unable to control her movements.

Yet still she chases her orgasm, rocking against me.

She’s not asking me to take over, because she’s far too prideful to ask for that, but I do so anyway. Pushing off from the bench, I cup her ass and carry her to one of the mirrored walls.

She slides down my body as I set her on her feet, and when I flip her around, I press her flush against the mirror. Her tits smash against it in the most sinful of ways, her cheek is pressed to her own reflection, and the mirror is fogging with her warm breath panting out needy moans.

“Watch.” I yank her hips away from the wall a few inches, giving me space to slip my hand down the front of her leggings. “Watch me get you off.”

Pushing back, she rubs her ass against my crotch, and I move with her, rocking against her the same way as if I were fucking her from behind.

“Emmett,” she cries, arching back into me.

“I know. I got you.”

I find her clit with the pad of my finger, rubbing tight circles while using her own arousal to help it glide. She’s so wet and warm and ready, and fuck, I just want her.

My knuckles are white with how firmly I’m gripping her hip, keeping her steady as I rock against her from behind. My cock slides against the seam on her ass as I drop my lips to her spine, placing worshipping kisses up a path along her back until, over her shoulder, I find her mouth.

I drop my forehead to hers. “You feel incredible.”

“I’m going to come,” she whines against my lips, fingertips leaving smudge marks against the glass as she looks for something to grasp onto.

Her attention is locked on the other mirrored wall to our left, staring at our reflection, and I follow her line of sight to watch us too. I can’t get over how much it looks like I’m taking her from behind. How perfectly willing she is, pushing her ass back and rocking with me, while also chasing my

fingers on her clit.

“I wish you were inside of me.”

“Oh, fuck.” I drop my head to the back of her neck, trying to compose myself. “Don’t say shit like that or I might just do it.”

She smiles that tempting smile before her mouth drops into an “O,” her brows furrowing in concentration when my fingers circle again.

“Right there, Em.”

“God,” I groan. “I love when you call me Em.”

“Yeah?”

“I love when you call me anything. I just like knowing I have your attention.”

“Trust me.” She reaches back, slipping her hand behind my head to pull my lips to hers. “You always have my attention. And that’s the problem.”

It’s the worst reminder, on the brink of both our orgasms, that this can’t happen again. That we can’t happen ever.

I don’t care how good she feels in this position, I just need to see her. So I flip her around to face me. Reese wraps her thick legs around my waist as I scoop her up and push her back against the mirror. And like finding their home, my hips effortlessly fall into the cradle of hers.

Then I kiss her, deep and long, letting my tongue take its time sliding against hers. I work for every moment. I memorize every sound. The little whimpers against my lips. The squeeze of her thighs around my hips as she gets closer. The way her arms wrap around my shoulders, fingers digging into my back as I rock into her.

I kiss her in a way that will make sure she remembers me.

And when her body tightens as we desperately move together, I hold her, letting her ride her orgasm out against me and making sure I get to feel it as it happens. Even through her leggings, I can feel her flutter and it draws my own orgasm that much closer to the surface.

She’s fucking stunning. Spent and exhausted. Flushed skin and heaving chest. Coiled muscles and pretty sounds. Every reflection in the room gives me a different view of her coming undone.

I can’t tear my eyes off her and don’t know how I’m supposed to be okay with only seeing this once in my lifetime.

“Emmett,” she cries, mid-orgasm, and my name has me falling over the edge with her.

One arm holding her up, the other is flat against the mirror as every muscle in my body begins to contract. I hide my face against her neck as heat zips down my spine. White light shoots behind my eyes as I muffle my desperate sounds against her. She’s got her arms wrapped around me, lips attached to my neck, and I’m done for.

Right there in the gym, I come in my fucking shorts from dry humping

my boss against the wall.

And holy hell, I’d like to do it again.

That was just enough to take the edge off, but my burning desire for this woman hasn’t been stoked in the slightest. In fact, it might be worse now,

getting a small taste of what it would be like to be with her.

We both take our time coming down, much of the previous tension settling between us.

Reese’s beautiful body slumps in my hold and I ease back on the force with which I’m pinning her up.

“Thank you,” she exhales through hard-earned breaths.

“A little less pissed off?”

“You could say that.” Her eyes drop to the front of my shorts, and I can’t quite tell if the wetness there is her release or my own. Couldn’t care less either way.

You couldn’t find a shy bone in my body right now if you tried.

“How about you?”

“I don’t know if I’m more or less worked up now,” I tell her honestly.

She bites on her lip as she keeps her eyes focused on where we’re connected, and that hungry look in her eye seems like a good sign. If she’s still wanting this, at least the postcoital regret isn’t settling in.

I take the fingers that were down her leggings and slip the tips into my

mouth to lick them clean.

It earns all her attention.

“For the record, you taste phenomenal.”

Her jaw falls open. “You’re not playing fair.”

“I don’t know about that. You just got an orgasm.” I push her hair behind her ear, stroking my thumb over her cheekbone. “You’re stunning when you come, by the way.”

Her smile turns sheepish, a blush covering her cheeks. It’s a bit of a mind-fuck to see this confident woman go shy, but under these circumstances, I revel in it.

“Honestly.” She folds her arms behind my neck, keeping me close. “You shirtless in the gym is some really good spank bank material I’ll be using later anyway. So, thanks for that.”

“I was just thinking the same thing about you in this little outfit.”

Her eyes find me, this soft yet sad smile on her lips. I’m almost certain my expression matches her own as we watch each other. She leans in and kisses me in a way that feels as if she were doing it for the very last time.

And if it’s going to be, I’ll make it last.

Soft kisses turn into desperate ones. Gentle touches morph into frantic, seeking hands. With her pinned to the mirror, we make out with each other

like a couple of teenagers finally getting a bit of alone time.

A post-orgasm make-out is highly underrated in my books, and it goes on for minutes until, eventually, Reese pulls back, hooded eyes and kiss-

swollen lips.

So beautiful it hurts.

And then I remember what happened the last time we were alone.

“What did Scott want when he interrupted our meeting earlier?”

She rolls her eyes, fingers still toying with the back of my hair. “He thinks he should be more involved with the baseball operations.”

“He can get fucked. What did you tell him?”

“That my title is president and not his, and that I’m running the team how I see fit.”

There’s a proud grin on my lips as I look up at her. “That’s my girl.”