Finding Another Way

"I guess I don't make the team then," I mewled for him, pouting a little, "I didn't manage to break through your defences."

Above me his eyes opened a little wider as a little bit of fear registered. On a real level he knew that I was just playing around but at the same time, there was some part of him that was fearful that I would actually pull out. That he would never see me again.

And Jake didn't want that.

"I'm sure I can make an exception," he started, but I cut him off by shaking my head slowly.

"No," I told him, "If I join the team I want to be because I've earned it and I haven't yet. So the question is how can I, right? What can little old me do to earn my place?"

I was pouting a little more and putting on a show of things, but every single movement was designed to tease and tantalize. When I shifted my shoulders it was to pin a little more of my shirt behind my back and make it tighter over my breasts. When I worried at my hands it was to squirm against his body, teasing him into a greater firmness or keeping him pressed against me and keeping me pinned to the ground.

When I shifted my legs, it was to glide my thighs between his and press up just hard enough into his bulge to thicken it and draw it to attention a little more.

And I could almost hear Rachel in my mind, telling me how proud she was of me.

Calling me a little minx. Telling me that I was a tease. Making me understand that I was doing just fine and spurring me on to more.

If I concentrated I could almost hear her, and so I let her be my guide.

"It's just that you do move quickly," I said to him, squirming beneath his weight, "I mean I've known you all of five minutes and you've already gotten on top of me. And hell, that's after you put your balls in my hand and made me play with them."

Biting my bottom lip I watched him redden and I felt the thrumming pulse of his heat throb above me. Against me.

I felt his bulge thicken, pulsing to life from my words and nimble little movements.

Because right now I was running my hands along his chest almost idly, pushing through the shirt he was wearing and pressing my hands against the hard flat firmness of his pecs. Drawing my fingers over his body and feeling him tense in response to me as I relaxed into the feel of him and inch by inch crept my way up and around his shoulders.

"You've got me now, though," I whispered, so quiet he had to lean in to hear me, "The question, for me, is what exactly I can do from this position to earn my place?"

I peeled one hand down from his shoulders and played it across his chest. My other hand drew him close enough that when I spoke my words could whisper across his lips.

"What can I do with my hands? What can I do with my lips? What can I do with my body?"

I bit my bottom lip and stared hard and heady up at him.

"What can I do for you to earn my place?" I asked, "What can I do to make a man as big and as strong and as fast and as powerful as you happy? How can I prove to you that I'm worth having around?"

I paused to contemplate the answer I already knew, the one that I was already working towards. My hand slipping down between our bodies until it teased at the edge of his bulge and a lightbulb of inspiration lit off behind my eyes.

"Oh," I half-moaned, "Now there is an interesting thought."

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