Glove Save (Carolina Comets)
Glove Save: Chapter 14

This last month of my life has been the most insane.

First, the night out at the bar with other moms—the same ones who still haven’t called to invite me out again. Then Greer showing up at the truck and guilting me into a date. Him training Macie. Me losing my job. Greer kissing me.

And now, he’s in my apartment.

None of this was at all how I thought this month would pan out, but here we are.

Here we are, stepping into my apartment, Greer’s eyes taking in the space around him. I’m sure it’s not much to him, but it’s home to Macie, Scout, and me.

“This is nice,” he says, pulling his jacket off. “It’s—”

“An absolute disaster? I know, but you’ll have to excuse the mess. I have a ten-year-old.”

Greer folds his jacket—one I’m sure cost as much as my rent—over his arm and lifts his dark brows. “I was going to say cozy. It’s cozy. A lot more lived in than my apartment.”

“Lived in is a nice way to say messy.”

“No. It’s a nice way to say my apartment is cold and unwelcoming. This isn’t.” His eyes move around the room, still surveying each part. “I don’t spend much time at my place, especially during the season, so it feels a little bland. This one reminds me of my childhood home—lived in.”

“Does your mother still live there?”

“No. She lives here, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” He nods. “I moved her here a few years ago after her third divorce. She was in a rough place, and I figured a change might do her some good. Now her business is thriving, and she’s getting married. So we’re all happy, I guess.”

“Yes, you sound positively elated when you talk about your mother’s fourth marriage.” I roll my eyes so he knows I’m being a complete smartass. I grab his coat, hanging it up on one of the empty hooks near the door, then toeing off my heels. I look ridiculous right now, still wearing Greer’s clothes and my high heels, but I didn’t feel like changing again after skating.

He grunts. “Sorry. It’s just…”

“You don’t believe in love. I know.”

An arm curls around my waist, and I’m tugged back against him before I even know what’s happening. He spins me around, pressing my back against the door and boxing me in. I’m out of breath as I stare up at him, my chest heaving, nearly brushing against him because that’s how close he is.

“Steve,” he whispers, his hand slipping down my side to my waist, his fingers curling into my skin, branding me as his.

“Greer.” I grin despite my best efforts not to. I hate being called Steve, but the way it sounds coming out of his mouth…well, it makes me hate it a little less.

“Say my other name.”

“Huh?”

“My first name.” His grip on me tightens. “Say it.”

“Jacob.”

He inhales sharply, and a quick beat later, his mouth crashes against mine. I have no clue who reaches for the other first, but it doesn’t matter now that we’re fused together, pulling at each other like maniacs.

His hands slide under my shirt—or rather his shirt—and mine grip the edges of the tee that hugs him like a second skin. He shivers when my hands collide with his bare skin, and I nearly combust as the pad of his thumb outlines the wire of my bra. His hands are somehow soft and rough at the same time as he holds on to me like he’s afraid I’m going to fade away at any moment.

There’s no way there’s a single thing in this world that’s better than having his hands on me. It’s not possible.

I’m not sure how long we make out like teens against the door, but it’s long enough for me to need more.

“Jacob.”

He pulls, taking one last nibble at my lips. “Yeah?”

“Can we—”

I can’t even finish my sentence before he’s dragging me through the tiny apartment and to the couch. He plops down, pulling me onto his lap and tugging me back down for another kiss.

I laugh at his urgency.

“Stop laughing,” he says, not replaceing it as funny as me.

“Well, I can’t help it. You’re practically mauling me, tossing me around like a wild man or something.”

“That’s because I can’t get enough.” He sits forward, pressing his lips to my throat. “It’s been too long.”

“Since you last kissed me? Or since you last kissed anyone?”

He pulls back, his eyes narrowing. “Is that your way of asking me if I’m seeing anyone?”

Crap. Is it?

I lift a shoulder. “I guess it kind of is.”

“No, Stevie. I’m not seeing anyone else. In fact, I haven’t seen anyone else for months.”

“Months?” I squeak out.

“Yes.”

“Years.”

“Years?”

I nod, looking down at my lap and where we’re connected, not missing how well we seem to fit together. “I haven’t been with anyone in years. Not since…”

He inhales sharply at this information. “Nobody?”

I shake my head. “Not even a kiss.”

“Fuck, Stevie. If I had known that…”

He leans forward, one hand gripping my waist, the other sliding into my hair. His thumb caresses my cheek as he stares into my eyes like he never has before.

“I would have kissed you like this.”

He presses his mouth to mine. It’s a soft kiss, so much different than the others we’ve had, languid and sweet. There’s nothing rushed as he coaxes my lips open and slips his tongue inside. It might be the gentlest side of Greer I’ve experienced yet, and somehow it gets me just as hot as the rougher version.

An involuntary whimper leaves me the moment he pulls away because I already miss him. He doesn’t miss it.

His chest rumbles with a laugh. “Better?”

“Just as good,” I tell him, because it’s true.

“Hmm. Guess I’ll have to do it again, then.”

And he does, only this time, his gentle touches don’t last. They turn quickly into the same rough, unfiltered, and impatient movements from earlier as he pulls at me, needing more.

I need more too.

I break the kiss, reaching for the hem of my shirt and pulling the material over my head. I let it fall to the floor somewhere behind me as I reach behind me and unhook my bra. I sit on his lap in nothing but a pair of pants that aren’t even mine as I stare down at Greer and his hungry green eyes.

Unlike earlier at the rink, he doesn’t try to pretend he’s not looking at me. This time he is doing so completely unabashedly. He takes me in, eyes tracking over every inch of me, from my eyes to my tits that aren’t as perky as they once were, the faint stretch marks on my belly from my pregnancy and the loose skin I have there too. His eyes linger on the small scar from my C-section, then he drags them back to my face and starts all over again.

I feel like I’m supposed to do something like cover myself or be shy or embarrassed by my body, but I can’t replace it in me, not when he’s looking at me like I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on.

He wants me, and I want him too.

He reaches a single finger out, and I shiver when his fingertip connects with my already hard nipple. He traces the puckered skin over and over, and it’s annoying because it feels so good and like not enough all at the same time.

I squirm against him. “Greer, I—”

My complaints quickly transform into a gasp as his mouth closes around the same nipple he was tormenting, and my eyes drift closed with pleasure.

The moment they close, I hear him. “Eyes on me, Stevie.”

His voice is rough and deep, and I want to obey his request so badly, but it’s hard. Having his mouth on me feels too good.

I peel them back open, watching him as he kisses both my breasts, sucking and nipping at them only to swipe his tongue over the slight sting he leaves behind. He does it over and over again until I swear I’m about to come from this alone.

Then, without warning, he releases me.

“No!” I cry out, reaching for him.

He laughs darkly, grabbing my hands and halting my movements. “If you keep squirming like you are, I’m going to blow my load in my jeans, and that would be sad because I’d rather come down that pretty throat of yours.”

My mouth waters at his words.

“Oh,” he says. “You like that idea, huh?”

I nod.

“On your knees, then.”

I scramble off his lap, dropping to the floor in front of him. He spreads his legs, and I relish the sting in my knees as I scoot closer to him.

“Take my cock out,” he instructs.

I’ve never been happier to listen to someone than I am at this moment.

I reach for his belt, sliding the expensive leather through the buckle and undoing the clasp. I unsnap the button, then drag the zipper of his jeans down. He rises up just enough for me to tug his pants down while he pulls his shirt off.

He sits before me, his pants half off, no shirt. He looks like a king on his throne, and I’m happy to be his servant.

“Take it out,” he instructs again, his voice gruffer than before.

I oblige, reaching into the black underwear and pulling his swollen cock free. I swallow thickly at the sight of him. He wraps his hand around himself, stroking slowly. I couldn’t look away even if I tried.

“You want to taste me, don’t you?”

I nod, unable to take my eyes off him.

“Do it. Put me in your mouth.”

I don’t waste another second, sliding my tongue against his shaft from base to tip. A deep growl leaves his throat, and it’s like music to my ears, spurring me on. I close my mouth over the head of his cock, circling my tongue on the underside, paying special attention to the frenulum.

He hums his pleasure as I swallow more of him, letting my untrained mouth adjust to his size before taking more. He lets me go at my own pace, but I know he’s holding back. I know he needs more.

I need more too.

I grab his hand and bring it to my head, looking up at him. His eyes are glassy and full of lust, but he understands what I want.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “Because I’m not so certain I can be gentle, Stevie. In fact, I don’t want to be gentle. Do you understand?”

I nod.

I feel it the moment he lets go. His fingers close around a fistful of hair, and he ruts up into me, shoving his cock down my throat. I choke on the intrusion, which spurs him on even more, and he thrusts into me again. Tears spring to my eyes, a few spilling over nearly instantly. I can’t breathe, yet I’ve never felt so alive before.

I feel like I should hate this, being used like this, but I realize I just don’t care. It feels too good, too right having him in my mouth.

His grip on my head tightens, his other hand coming down to stroke away the tears that are now streaming down my face as he continues thrusting. I swallow around him, and he lets out a guttural sound.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he moans. “You take me so well, Stevie. I swear your mouth was made for my cock.”

I nod because I swear it too.

He drives himself into my mouth over and over, his body growing stiffer with each movement, his breathing getting sharper and sharper while mine gets weaker and weaker.

“I have to come,” he mutters.

He tries to pull away, but I refuse, digging my nails into his thighs to halt his movements.

I deserve this. I deserve all of him.

He thrusts into me twice more, and that’s when I feel the hotness of his cum hitting the back of my throat. I swallow everything he has to give me as his strokes slow while he comes down from his high.

When he’s fully spent, I let him slide out of my mouth, then rest my head on his thigh, sucking in pulls of air for what feels like the first time in hours as Greer strokes my head and attempts to steady his own breaths.

How is it I didn’t even come, and I feel spent like I just ran a marathon? Everything in my body aches, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to move again.

“I should go.”

His words are like a bucket of ice water.

They’re enough to have me lifting my head and peering up at him. “Go?”

He nods. “Yeah. I have practice tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.”

It’s a stupid thing to say. I know it is, but it’s all I can muster. I just let him fuck my mouth, and he has to go because he has practice in the morning? I…

Well, I’m pissed.

And hurt.

And did I mention pissed?

I shove up to my feet, trying hard to ignore the sting in my knees when I stretch them out. I’m sure I’ll have bruises tomorrow. If you had asked me about them just twenty seconds ago, I’d have said they were worth it, but now, staring down at Greer as he tugs his jeans back up and buckles his pants like nothing happened, I don’t think that’s the case at all.

I step back when he rises from the couch, crossing my arms over my chest to cover my naked breasts because I’m still practically nude as he tugs his shirt back on.

“Hey,” he says softly, his fingers sliding under my chin and pulling it up to meet his eyes. “We good?”

I nod because right now, it’s all I can do.

“Okay. I’ll see you at four tomorrow.”

My brows crush together. “Four?”

“The wedding. I’m the dude of honor, so we need to get there early.”

“Oh. The wedding. Right.”

A frown pulls at his lips, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. He gently kisses my lips, then gives me a grin. “Good night, Steve.”

“Night,” I mutter.

Without a backward glance, he walks out of my apartment.

I don’t remember the last time I felt this awful. I’m glad Macie isn’t coming home tonight; there’s no reason for her to see me upset like this.

I go to the kitchen and chug a glass of water, then say screw it and grab a bottle of wine. I unscrew the top as I make my way down the hall to my bedroom, coming to a screeching halt in the doorway when my eyes land on the box sitting atop my bed.

I want to ask Greer how he managed to get this in here, but then I remember he’s not here. He’s gone. He used me, and now he’s gone.

I shove the box off the bed and crawl under the sheets, still wearing his pants and still holding on to my wine. I close my eyes, pushing out all thoughts of what just happened.

I have no idea how long it takes me to fall asleep. All I know is it’s the worst night of rest I’ve ever had.