“You’re, uh—” she fingered his collarbone and touched a mole that grew next to it “—you’re passable yourself.” She grinned at his outraged glare, his dropped jaw.
“Passable?” He looked up and addressed the trees. “The little vixen says I’m passable. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t heard it with my own ears!” Troy got down to the serious business of tickling her while she shrieked.
“Stop! Stop! I didn’t mean it,” Peggy panted, trying to get away from him.
“Repeat after me—‘Troy, you are a sex god.’ No, ‘Troy, you are the sex god!’”
“Aaaaiiieeeee!” she squealed, “stop it, stop it, stop it! Troy, you are the sex god!”
He gave her a momentary breather. “Now say, “‘Troy, you are the best I’ve ever had!’”
She blew out a breath and thumped him in the forehead. “Yo, stupid. You don’t have to tickle me to get me to say that.”
“Oh, yeah?” His chest swelled.
She nodded. “But don’t puff up like that and get arrogant, or I’ll take it back.”
“I’m the best she’s ever had,” he said to a lizard that darted out from behind a terra-cotta pot on the pool deck. The lizard blinked at him and swelled his little neck. “But that goes without saying. Because of course I am the best there is.” He took a bow.
“Puh-lease,” said Peggy, rolling her eyes and getting out of the pool. Water dripped off her body and she attempted to wring out her hair. The sun felt wonderful on her naked skin, though she knew she couldn’t stay out here long, or she’d become a lobster.
“It’s true,” said Troy, winking at her. He pushed off from the side of the pool and floated on his back, arms under his head.
“Your big head is getting swollen,” she told him, “but your other one doesn’t look anywhere near so impressive now…oh, yikes!”
He jumped out of the pool and came after her. Peggy ran, but her legs were no match for his longer ones and he caught her within seconds. She tried to twist away, but he caught her around the waist and threw her over his shoulder, caveman style.
“Hey! Put me down!”
He ignored her and walked over to his jeans, which lay in the grass. He toed them up, fished out his keys and smacked her sharply on the bottom when she pounded a fist into his kidneys.
“Ow!”
“You hit me first. Behave.” He unlocked the back door and made his way inside with her, locking it behind him. He deposited her on the kitchen table after sweeping off a couple of stray Cheerios with his arm. “Don’t think we’re done yet, darlin’.”
“We’re not? I don’t think I can take any more!”
“Then you’d better not make comments about things not being impressive.”
She looked between his legs. Oh, my. “What, do you have a helium pump or something? Where the hell did that come from?” His cock jutted at her, ready for business. “I guess you, uh, never used steroids.”
“I wouldn’t touch that stuff.”
She shrugged.
“Not with a ten-foot pole.”
She looked at his pole and smirked. “You men are such exaggerators. That’s not ten feet and you know it.”
“You’ve got a real mouth on you, Peggy-Sue,” he said, shaking his head. But he laughed. “Now, why’d you ask me about steroids? Was that another charming habit of your fiancé’s?”
She nodded.
“So he gave you a CZ and you didn’t get much action? What did you do, go to www.Losers.com and order one up special?”
Peggy choked. “Something like that.”
“Well, I hope they didn’t charge you too much. Now, you just lie back and let Uncle Troy and his assistant give you a little massage. It’s your turn today.”
Uncle Troy’s assistant turned out to be a plastic squeeze bottle of honey, shaped like a bear. He liked to sit in the microwave for short periods of time, during which he got all warm and gooey.
Then he liked to be squeezed so that honey ran all over her breasts, at which point Troy had to step in and clean up the mess. With his tongue and a lot of suction. Peggy went ahead and let Uncle Troy and his assistant have their way.
But she also insisted on returning the favor, taking his erection into her mouthful of warm honey and doing a little torturing of her own. It wasn’t her favorite thing in the world, but she loved the power she had over him as her lips slid up and down, and his eyes closed and his fists clenched on his knees. He groaned and murmured her name and opened his fists to bury his hands in her hair and stroke the back of her neck.
Finally he pulled her up so that she straddled him and sank down onto him. Her breasts rubbed against the rough hair of his chest, and he took them into his hands, squeezing gently, playing her nipples with his thumbs. The rhythm he set this time was slow, languorous and sweet. He kissed and caressed her, stroking gently with hands, tongue and cock until orgasm rolled over her unexpectedly and she relaxed into bliss.
He gave one last thrust, pulling her bottom down hard, trying to wrest every last iota of pleasure from their lovemaking, while she collapsed onto his shoulder and breathed in his scent. She could get far too used to this.
Peggy sat up at the alarming thought, twisting her hair into a wet knot on the top of her head. Troy’s eyes were closed and he was still embedded in her, his hands still warm on her skin.
What exactly did she think she was doing? What had happened to her year alone? And impulse control? And finding a mind-body-spirit balance? Just when she’d decided to devote herself to things like inner peace and aromatherapy and even a little meditation, along came a hot man and she forgot about herself and her personal goals to focus on him. Were women genetically programmed to do this? Screw up their lives in the hopes of a little…pollination?
I am not screwing up my life. Just because I’ve had a few sexual encounters with this man doesn’t mean I’ve signed over my life to him! And he’s an ex-football player, for God’s sake. Unmarried for a reason—he likes to play the field.
“What’s the matter, Peggy-Sue?” Troy asked the question lazily.
“It’s just Peggy.” Her tone was sharper than she’d intended for it to be.
“O-kay. What’s wrong then, Just Peggy? You starting to obsess again about the powder-puff team being eliminated?”
Actually, she was horrified that it had flitted out of her mind so completely. “Yes. We can’t let them do this!”
Troy sighed.
“Don’t just sit there, Barrington, like it’s a done deal. If enough of us go and raise a ruckus, we can change their minds.” She slid off his lap and paced across the kitchen.
“Peggy, stop for a minute. Please understand that I am not trying—not for a second—to minimize the importance of girls playing sports. Softball, soccer, volleyball, basketball—those are great for girls. But football? You and I both know that it’s different, even if you don’t want to admit that.”
Her heart stopped. “What do you mean, Troy?” she asked carefully.
He passed a hand over his face. “Look, I know you’re going to get pissed at me for saying this, but football is a contact sport. And maybe girls are bigger and more agile than boys at this age, ten to twelve, but within two or three years that’s no longer true. What’s the future for a female player then? Getting mowed down by a guy twice her body weight? I’m sorry,