Blind Side: A Fake Dating Sports Romance (Red Zone Rivals)

I was consumed.

By the darkness of my room, the incessant pounding of my heart, the towering mass of Clay’s body as he lowered me down into my sheets. His rough voice reverberated in my ears, the command low but firm.

“Lie down.”

I submitted, and as my back came flush against the mattress, Clay slid on top of me, nestling his thick frame between my thighs. The heat of it sent a chill down my arms, one Clay smiled at before he smoothed his knuckles along my chin.

“Relax,” he said. “We’re not going all the way tonight.”

I frowned, sagging into the sheets as Clay chuckled and tilted my chin. I was ready to protest, to point out the fact that Shawn had my freaking number now and I could be alone with him at any moment, completely unprepared. But before I could argue, Clay spoke again.

“Don’t look so sad, Kitten,” he teased, pressing a kiss light as air to my jaw. “There are many things that come before that, and trust me when I say you won’t want to skip them.”

An embarrassed smile found my lips before he kissed them, and I sucked in a breath, looping my arms around his neck and asking for more. It felt natural now that we’d done it a few times, almost… comforting.

But he broke away all too soon.

“One step at a time, yeah?” he whispered, waiting until I nodded before he descended on me once more.

And with a stroke of his hand along the side of my face, his fingers weaving into the hair at the nape of my neck and holding me still as he kissed me again, I surrendered.

A long, heady breath left me, and I opened my mouth to let Clay slide his tongue inside. Just like at the party, a jolt of electricity shot straight between my legs, something pulsing there like a heartbeat.

I whimpered at the feel of it, and he pulled back from the kiss enough to hear the full sound from my lips.

“Why does that feel so good?” I breathed, my eyes still closed as Clay’s tongue lashed out against mine again.

“Do you want the science of it, or the layman’s terms?”

I bit my lip against a smile as he kissed down my neck, and his hips rolled between mine, striking me with that hot spark of electricity again.

“Both.”

A low rumble of a laugh vibrated at my throat.

“When we kiss, your brain lets off a cocktail of chemicals,” he whispered, crawling his kisses back up until he claimed my mouth. “But it’s not really about them. It’s about what they’re telling you.”

“Which is?”

He nosed my chin, nipping at my neck. “You tell me.”

I let out a breath of a laugh, wriggling beneath him as he sucked the skin at my neck, one hand steadying him while the other trailed down the length of my arm. His fingertips were so gentle, fluid — like ice skaters performing in front of a crowd. They ran all the way down to where I fisted his shirt before they skated back up.

And then he pulled back.

“What?” I breathed, eyes hooded.

“Tell me,” he said again.

I flushed. “I can’t… I don’t know…”

Clay’s eyes stayed locked on mine, hand framing my neck once more. But this time, his thumb came to rest on my lower lip, just like it had that night at the club when we went to watch Shawn. His eyes fell to where his thumb rested, and he smoothed the pad of it over my slick lip before dragging it down, pulling my lip along with it.

“Tell me what you feel,” he demanded again.

“Excited,” I breathed, chest heaving at the admission. “And… hot.”

“Hot,” he echoed with a satisfied grin, and once again that hand of his trailed down, but this time, not over my arm. He slid it along the length of my throat, just the tiniest amount of pressure there before he continued lower, over my collarbone, my chest, and finally, palmed my breast through the thin tank top I wore.

The thin tank top with nothing else underneath it.

My nipple puckered even more at the connection, and Clay groaned his approval, thumbing it through the thin cotton fabric. A pang of white hot shot from that point of contact right between my legs, and I cried out, arching into the touch and pulling away from it both at once.

“That warmth is desire,” he explained, rolling his thumb around my nipple again. “You’re turned on.”

“Yes,” I breathed. Then, I rolled my lips together, fighting for the words. “How do I make you feel that?”

Clay laughed, the sound low and delicious in my ear. His palm left my breast, cold air sweeping in to take its place as he reached down for my hand. Threading his fingers around mine, he slowly slid my hand along his stomach, and I felt every ridge and valley of his abdomen on the way down.

Until he cupped my hand in his, guiding my palm down to where his thick, solid erection strained against his sweatpants.

“Fuck,” I whispered when I felt it, when Clay groaned and flexed into my touch. I couldn’t help but wrap around it as best I could with the sweatpants in the way, and Clay dropped his forehead to mine, swallowing.

“There’s your answer, Kitten,” he husked.

He was turned on. His skin was blistering hot just like mine.

Because of me.

The power of that truth surged through me like a tidal wave, and I tilted my lips up to meet his, to moan into his mouth as I rubbed my palm along his length. It twitched at the contact, and my mouth watered, like I wanted to taste it, like I wanted to know what it felt like going down my throat.

I blame the dirty books.

With a groan, Clay lowered himself, taking his mouth from mine and his cock out of reach with one movement.

I pouted, but he only smiled, shaking his head like I was going to be the death of him. “I need to focus,” he explained.

“On wha—”

But I didn’t have time to finish, because in the next breath, Clay ran his hand under the hem of my tank top, pushing it up and over the swells of my breasts. It was brute force, the fabric shoved up around my neck and my breasts exposed without warning. The cool air had my nipples peaked, along with the way Clay’s eyes swam over them, taking in every inch of them before his palm found me again.

A breathy hiss left me at the touch, at how tightly my thigh muscles clenched when his hand touched me there. I pushed up into the pillows so I could watch, so I could see his thumb swiping over the top of my light mauve bud.

“It’s like… sparks,” I tried to explain through my panting, and Clay smirked, circling my nipple with his thumb as I whimpered and writhed.

“Some girls like it, some girls don’t,” he said. “How does it feel?”

“Hot.”

He chuckled. “Good hot, or bad hot?”

I considered the question, not really sure. It was a little of both, like touching my tongue to an acidic battery or a copper penny. It shocked me, and felt uncomfortable, but at the same time, I liked it.

At least, I thought.

When I didn’t answer, Clay settled lower between my legs, his chest pressed against my aching core now as he balanced on his elbows.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

I did, releasing a long breath.

And then, his mouth was on me.

I gasped, the sensation rocking through me violently as his tongue swirled over my nipple.

“Clay,” I breathed, and without meaning to, my hands shot for his hair, and I held on like those strands were reins.

“Good or bad?” he asked again.

“Good,” I breathed out, wetting my lips. “Very good.”

He smiled against my breast, and then his tongue was dancing, circling and flicking as little shots of electricity bolted down between my legs. Then, he sucked my nipple between his teeth, nipping so gently I barely registered it before he released me.

“Is that okay?”

“God, yes,” I breathed, hands fisting in his hair, and he kissed a line of sweet, tender kisses across the middle of my chest until he took my other nipple between his teeth, spreading the love.

It felt like hours of that torture, his lips moving from one to the other, tongue never tiring, and when he finally crawled back up to take my mouth with those beautiful lips again, I held him to me, arching into him, wanting to praise him like a saint.

“That was amazing,” I breathed. “Now what the hell do I do to you?”

Clay barked out a laugh, but it faded quickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he rolled over onto his back. He kept his eyes on me, but I couldn’t help but watch his hands where they lowered, thumbs sliding under the band of his sweatpants. He pushed into his heels, lifted his hips, and tugged them down below his knees before kicking them the rest of the way off.

My eyes grew wide, and Clay paused with his thumbs in the band of his briefs next.

“You okay?”

“Take your briefs off, Clay,” I said, practically panting as I waited for him to free the beast straining against the black fabric.

A light chuckle left him, and then he did as I asked, and when his erection sprang free, I actually salivated.

I’d never seen one in real life, never known anything other than what I’d glimpsed on raunchy television shows or the occasional porn I indulged in. But I’d read about them. I’d felt my body heating as the authors described the swollen tip, the veiny shaft, the thick base with tufts of hair.

None of it compared.

I reached for him automatically, but his hand snapped out, capturing my wrist and halting me.

“Touch yourself first.”

I balked. “Wh-what?”

Clay moved my hand to my stomach, pushing it down under the hem of my sweatpants as my eyes fluttered at the sensation. He wasn’t even touching me yet. It was my own damn hand.

But his was on top of it.

He lined up his fingers with mine, the pad of his pushing into my nail, and he ran my hand along the length of my vagina, slipping one finger between the folds.

“Are you wet?” he asked.

I nodded, unable to form words.

“Coat yourself in it,” he instructed. “Slick your hand with your wetness, and then let me feel it.”

My next swallow was rough, like I’d taken too big of a bite — and maybe I had. Maybe I’d bitten off entirely more than I could chew, but God did it feel good to have his eyes on me, his hands, his mouth.

I’d debate the consequences later.

I did as he said, and my body heated more and more each time my palm slicked over my clit. Clay helped my hand glide back and forth, drenching my fingers and palm, and then he removed our hands from beneath my pants and moved them over to him.

I leaned up on my elbow, watching as he wrapped my hand around his base.

The second I touched him, he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and falling back into the pillows.

I ripped my hand away. “Oh, God. Did I hurt you? Did I fuck up?”

“No,” he panted, grabbing my hand and moving it back. “It feels good,” he breathed, and then a soft curse left his lips as he helped me slide my fist over his shaft. “So fucking good.”

I lit up under the praise, mirroring what he’d done. I ran my slick palm up to his mushroom tip, applying light pressure as I slicked it all the way down to his base again. Another moan of satisfaction rewarded me, and he flexed his hips into my touch.

“More.”

I squeezed tighter on the next roll down, and he cursed, nodding and flexing into my hand again. He was so thick I could barely get my hand all the way around him, and the thought of taking him inside me both excited and terrified me.

“The tip is really sensitive,” he tried to explain through his panting, his chest heaving with every new roll of my hand over him. “You want to touch it, yes, but not too much, not too aggressively.”

I nodded, taking mental notes as I slicked his head before moving to his shaft.

“Just like every girl is different, every guy is, too. Some want it slow, some fast, some like light pressure, others like harder.”

“What about these?” I asked, dipping my hands down beneath his shaft without warning.

He jumped as I cupped his balls, cursing as his eyes flew open and he rolled, pinning me into the sheets.

“Oh, God. Bad?” I asked, panicked. Hadn’t the books said those were good?

Clay heaved a laugh, shaking his head before he dropped his forehead to mine. “Good,” he breathed. “At least, for me.”

“Then why did you stop me?”

“Because I don’t want to come before the lesson is over.”

I bit my lip, and Clay kissed my shy smile before rolling over to the right of me. He balanced himself on one elbow, the free hand trailing down and drawing a line from one of my hips to the other.

I shivered under the touch, eyes floating up to meet his.

He swallowed, dipping just the tip of his fingers beneath the band of my sweats. “Can I touch you, Giana?” he whispered.

I’d never known such simple words could unravel me.

I nodded, and just like he had, I lifted my hips, using the arm not trapped beneath him to help him push my sweats down. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath them, and Clay’s nose flared at the sight of me bare before him.

“I didn’t… I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to like… shave or something. Of course, I didn’t think we’d be… I usually just have this little strip,” I explained, cheeks flooding with heat the longer Clay stared between my legs. I bent my knees together. “I can jump in the shower real quick and—”

“Stop,” he told me, catching my knees before they could meet in the middle. He lightly pressed against the inside of my left one until I opened again, and his hand slowly trailed down my inner thigh toward the apex.

He swallowed, pulling his gaze up to meet mine.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed.

I wasn’t allowed the opportunity to refute that claim, not before his attention was back between my legs, and his hand slid farther up.

He cupped me.

Gentle at first, and then firmer, the whole heat of his palm covering me as I gasped for air.

“God, you are wet,” he husked, gliding his fingers between my lips as I rolled my hips involuntarily. “This is so fucking hot, Kitten.”

All I could do was hold onto him, one hand fisting in the back of his shirt while the other twisted in the sheets.

“Has anyone done this to you?” he asked, the heel of his palm rubbing against me lightly as he slipped his middle finger a little deeper between my folds.

“Just me,” I breathed.

Clay paused, his eyes finding mine. “Are you sure—”

“Do it,” I begged, rolling my hips again. “Please, Clay.” I covered his hand with mine just like he’d done with me before, pressing his finger deeper until the tip of it touched my entrance.

We both hissed a breath then, and I pulled my hand back, searching his eyes as he hovered over that spot.

His green irises flared, pupils dilating a bit as they flicked between mine. “Please tell me if it hurts.”

I nodded, and Clay took a long, deep breath, his eyes staying locked on mine.

And he pushed.

The tip of him slipped inside me, making my lips part and my breath catch. He withdrew it again, only to slide it in deeper, up to his first knuckle this time.

Slowly, again and again, he withdrew and pushed until I stretched bit by bit for him and let him inside. When he finally pressed all the way in, pushing that thick middle finger inside me and curling into a spot that made me see stars, I cried out his name.

It did hurt. But then again, it didn’t. It was like picking at a scab, painful but satisfying, and I only wanted more.

My hands found his hair, guiding his mouth down to mine. I needed to kiss him. I needed to feel him encompassing every inch of me.

He obliged.

That torturous tongue of his slipped inside my mouth, a long swipe of it timed just right with his finger gliding inside me and curling again. This time, he left it there, deep inside me, and wiggled it.

“Oh, God,” I breathed into his mouth. “I… what is…”

My next gasp for air stole the words, and Clay held me tighter to him as he withdrew and slipped inside me again. This time it felt like… more. Full. I was full, and stretched, that bit of pain battling with the pleasure until pleasure won out and consumed my entire being.

I rocked against his touch, even more so when the heel of his hand pressed against my clit and rubbed it in time with his fingers working inside me. That heat that had been building seared white hot and dangerous, like a literal fire was building from the depths of my core.

“Clay,” I warned, scared of it, of how it built and built and flooded me and… something… something was happening.

“Let go,” he said, capturing his mouth with mine. His fingers worked inside me, pushing and curling, his palm slicking against my sensitive peak.

I shook my head, terrified, but that fear was snuffed out in the next moment by rolling waves of delectation. I whimpered into his mouth, and those little cries turned into moans that grew louder and louder as I shook and writhed and clung to him. It was as if every sense I had was zeroed in on where he touched me, and they all rejoiced at once. I felt and tasted and smelled everything and nothing all at once. A black hole of pleasure — that’s what it was.

It was violent and all-consuming for what felt like the shortest minute of my life, and then it slowly faded, even as I tried to grapple and hold onto it.

“No,” I whimpered as the last of it faded, and Clay laughed against my mouth, kissing me as his fingers stilled within me.

“Don’t worry, Kitten,” he whispered. “There are plenty more orgasms where that came from.”

I gasped. “Is that what that was?”

“Wait,” Clay said, pulling back so he could see my eyes. “Was that the first time?”

I flushed. “I mean… I’ve… you know I’ve done that a few times to myself but… never… never that.”

Clay’s brows bent together, and he shook his head. “Jesus, Giana… I didn’t know. I…” He swallowed. “Thank you. For trusting me.”

I smiled. “Thank you for the lesson.”

I leaned up onto my elbows as he carefully removed his fingers from inside me, and I shuddered at the loss.

“Although,” I said. “It’s not over yet.”

I reached for him, paused, and then reached between my own legs, instead, remembering how he’d wanted my hand to be wet before I touched him. I gasped when I felt just how wet I was, even more excited to coat him with it and bring him the same pleasure.

But it was almost too wet.

I frowned, bringing my fingertips up so the light of the television reflected on them.

And then promptly shrieked in horror.

“Oh, GOD!” I balked, panicking when I realized the same crimson liquid that covered my fingers also covered Clay’s.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, holding up that bloody hand as if to soothe me. “It happens. It’s natural.”

“I bled on you,” I whisper-shrieked. Immediately, I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. “Oh my God.”

Frantically, I turned on the faucet and doused my hand, scrubbing it with soap and hot water until the blood was gone. I grabbed a washcloth next, soaking it and turning to run it into the room for Clay, but I slammed into his chest in the process.

His hands framed my arms. “Whoa.”

“Here,” I said, shoving the warm rag at him as I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey—”

“I’m so embarrassed. You must be so grossed out. Oh, God.”

“Kitten,” Clay said, firmer, his clean hand tapping under my chin. He waited until I opened my eyes, until he was looking down into them with his piercing green pools. “It’s just a little blood. It’s not gross. It’s natural. It doesn’t freak me out. I feel fucking honored that you let me be the one to touch you like that for the first time. Okay?”

I closed my lips, swallowing, frowning, freaking the fuck out.

“Okay?” he asked again.

I nodded, though I didn’t quite feel it. But it was enough for Clay to release me, to take the wet cloth from my hands. He slipped behind me and quickly washed his hands while I stood there staring like an idiot.

Then, he slowly approached me, like I was a wild animal ready to bolt. His hands found my waist.

My still bare waist.

He slid his hands up my ribcage next, catching my tank top, and I lifted my arms for him to slip it over my head.

“Shower with me,” he said.

It wasn’t a question or a request, but a command.

I turned on the water, waiting until it ran hot before I pulled the plug to turn the water to the shower head. Grabbing two towels, I placed them on the lid of the toilet before stepping in, and Clay slipped in behind me.

The water ran hot down my back as he pulled me into him, the front of him lined up against the back of me, and I could feel how hard he still was, the ridge of his shaft pressing against my ass.

“Clay,” I breathed, reaching behind me, but he stopped me before I could reach him.

“Not tonight,” he said.

“But I need to learn.” I twisted in his arms, and wasn’t prepared for the sight that met me. The soft light of the bathroom, the shade from the shower curtain, the water running in rivulets down his arms, his chest, his abdomen…

“I promised I’d teach you, didn’t I?” He arched a brow.

I sighed. “Yes.”

“Then, I will. But not tonight. Tonight,” he said, pulling me into him and bopping my nose with his fingertip. “We celebrate your first orgasm.”

I rolled my lips, but the laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it. I buried my face in his chest, peeking up at him through the steam gathering around us.

“I think orgasms might be my new favorite thing.”

“Better than the books?” he asked with a smirk.

I pressed up onto my toes. “So much better,” I answered, and then, even though the lesson was over, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his mouth to mine. Sliding my tongue against his lips until he opened, I met his tongue with my own, moaning at how it felt — the hot water and his hot kiss.

Recognition hit me, and my eyes shot open wide before I ripped back.

“Ah… sorry,” I said, tucking my hair behind one ear. “Getting greedy.”

The joke fell flat, and I cringed at myself as I turned toward the shower head, reaching to the shelf behind it for my body wash.

“I’ll let you get cleaned up,” he said, and I felt the cool air of the bathroom sweep in as he let himself out.

I internally groaned. I’d quite literally scared him out of the shower with that kiss, one that didn’t need to happen. No one was around to witness it. It wasn’t a show for anyone. And we were done with tonight’s… lesson.

I’d done it just because I wanted to.

Embarrassment licked at my neck, but panic rose on its heels at the thought of Clay leaving while I was in the shower. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want him to go. Not yet.

“Clay!”

I grabbed the curtain and fisted it back just in time to see him wrapping his lower half in a towel. He turned, running a hand through his damp hair, the vision like a book cover and a Ralph Lauren ad all at once.

“Yeah?”

I swallowed. “Stay?”

A soft smile spread on his lips as he exhaled. “Yeah.”

I smiled back, hoping he saw the relief that brought me before I closed the curtain again. I slathered myself with body wash, careful as I cleansed between my legs, and cringing a bit at the red that rinsed down the drain when I did.

But once I was clean, the hot water running down my back, my body completely sated and sore… I covered my mouth with my hand, shaking my head as another smile bloomed like a rose on my swollen lips.

I had my first orgasm.

And all I could think was that I couldn’t wait for the next one.