She arched against him, wanting more and more, but she wasn’t going to last because he found her piercing and tugged at it with his teeth, flicked it with his tongue, and the vibration sent her right over the edge. He sucked her cl*tand she came, whimpering, trying to hold it in because they weren’t somewhere she could let out the scream she bit back. He held on tight to her, his tongue against her cl*tas her cl**ax rolled in sweet pulses that made her shudder.
He pulled her off the table and kissed her, letting her taste her own salty sweetness. Her legs were shaking and she held on to him for support, her thigh brushing his erection, which only heightened her renewed arousal. She reached down to rub his c**k through his pants and was rewarded with his thick groan.
He pulled back and dragged her panties off and bent her over the table, then unzipped his pants and released his cock.
“Let’s see how rough you really like it.”
Her pu**y quivered as he tore open a condom and positioned himself behind her.
He spread her legs apart, caressed her butt, spreading her ass cheeks, petting her and sweeping his fingers between her legs to rub her pussy. She couldn’t take it any longer.
She looked at him over her shoulder. “Ty. Hurry.”
She felt his c**k at the entrance to her pussy, teasing her as he petted her with his c**k head. She lifted her ass, teasing him back until he thrust and buried himself inside her.
Ty stilled, his c**k twitching as he filled himself inside Jenna’s sweet, hot pussy.
She drove him crazy, challenged him to give her what they both wanted. She arched her ass against him, torturing him with hot moans and whimpers that rocked his balls.
And when he reared back and thrust deeper, the low moans she made obliterated whatever bit of control he’d been holding on to. His fingers bit into her ass as he reared back and plunged in harder again, rewarded when she threw her head back and said, “Yes. Oh, God, yes.”
“You have a sweet ass, Jenna.” He gave her butt a light tap with his hand, and her pu**y squeezed around him while she moaned in response. She laid her head on her hands, her fingers gripping the edge of the table.
He smacked the other globe and f**ked his c**k into her. She shoved her pu**y back against him, asking for more.
She was going to make him come hard tonight. His c**k swelled thick, his balls drawn up so tight he was ready to explode.
He gave her another swat, harder this time, and she moaned louder, her pu**y spilling moisture over his balls. He reached around to rub her cl*twith one hand, and smacked her ass with the other.
“Oh, God, I’m going to come. Fuck me harder, that’s going to make me come.”
He found the hard nub, pistoned his c**k in deep, then swatted her ass, feeling her pu**y contract around his dick.
She drove her pu**y against his c**k and tilted her head back, crying out as she came. Feeling her muscles clench around him, watching her as she cl**axed, was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. He lost it, grabbing hold of her h*ps and driving deep into her as he came, letting loose a battle cry of his own.
He put his arms around her and laid his head on top of her back to gather his breath, then turned her to face him. He kissed her and smoothed his hands over her butt cheeks.
“Did I hurt you?”
She lifted a brow. “Of course not. I told you I was tough.”
He laughed. “Yeah, you are.”
“I enjoyed that, Tyler.”
He shuddered out a breath. “Me, too.”
They got dressed and left. He took her home and she invited him in. They were both hungry so she made them some eggs and bacon. After, she sang for him again as they sat in the living room sipping juice. He was surprised she didn’t object when he asked her to. Maybe she was getting more used to the idea.
When she finished a song, he smiled at her. “That was beautiful.”
Her lashes dipped down across her cheek. She obviously still wasn’t used to hearing someone praise her voice. “Thank you.”
“Why don’t you ever sing for your family?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You know how to play guitar. That has to be something your family knows about.”
She laid the guitar against the sofa. “Actually, they don’t. I didn’t take guitar lessons until I moved away from home. I learned how to play when I was out of the country.”
“And they’ve never heard you sing. Not even when you were a kid?”
“Oh, sure. I was in church choir when I was a kid. But solo? No.”
There was more. He knew there was more. “Didn’t your parents notice your amazing voice, even when you were a kid?”
Her lips lifted in a hint of a smile. “You blend in with the choir.”
He studied her. “There’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?”
“It’s nothing. Nothing important.”
“Everything about you is important. I told you before you can tell me anything.”
“It’s petty.”
“So?”
“I wanted to take singing lessons when I was a kid. I asked my parents about it, but Mom was a dance teacher, and of course me being the only girl meant I was the one stuck taking dance lessons. Ballet, tap, jazz, the whole thing.”
“Okay. But what about singing lessons.”
“You have to understand. There was Mick and Gavin and all their sports. Every night of the week. And then my dance lessons. And Mom and Dad had to work. There just wasn’t time. And then there was money. All these activities were expensive. Singing lessons were expensive. The dancing lessons were free because Mom was the teacher.”
Now he understood. “Oh. I see. Everyone’s needs and wants were a priority, and what you wanted got shuffled to the end of the line.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Don’t make excuses for it, Jenna. You didn’t get to live your dream, while your brothers did.”
“They played school sports. It was much cheaper.”
“That’s all bullshit. You wanted to sing. Did you tell them you wanted to sing?”
She looked down at her hands. “I asked. Once.”
“And?”
“Mom explained that with dance and the boys in sports, there just wasn’t the time. Or the money. They said maybe some other time, once there was more money for singing lessons, but I never asked again.”
“And your dream went up in a puff of smoke.”
She didn’t say anything, but Ty could imagine what it must have been like for her. If he hadn’t been allowed to play hockey, it would have crushed him. He brushed her hair away from her face. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s no big deal. We can’t always have everything we want.”
“It is a big deal. It’s what you loved.”
“I liked dancing, too.”
“Yeah, well I liked playing basketball, but it wasn’t what I loved. I got to do what I loved.”
She lifted her gaze to his. “So did I, when I went to Europe.”
And then someone crushed her dream again. He ached for her. “Now you have another chance.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. I have a career now.”
“You have a job. You have a great talent, Jenna. Why aren’t you out there showing it off?”
“Because I’m happy to just sing. I don’t need anyone else to hear it.”
“Are you really content with that? You write all these songs and you hide in your office singing them. And you’re happy with you being the only one hearing them.”
She didn’t answer, but he saw her flicker of a glance over to the guitar.
“You’re afraid.”
She snapped her gaze back to his. “No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are. You’re afraid you won’t be good enough. You’re still letting that rejection hold you back.”
“That’s bullshit.” Her gaze narrowed. “And why is this so important to you, anyway?”
“Because I’ve been there.”
She leaned forward. “What do you mean?”
“Playing professional hockey is a lot different than doing it for fun or even in college. It’s doing it for money, making a career out of it. Do you think I wasn’t afraid of failing? I’m not big on failing.”
“So you once thought about not doing it?”
“Yeah. I was good and I knew I was good. I had a gut feeling I could make it, but I wasn’t being branded as some future superstar with a guarantee of success. If I didn’t make it, I didn’t know if I could handle the rejection.”
She reached for his hand, clasped it between hers. “It’s hard to put yourself out there. The potential for failure is difficult for a lot of people to deal with. I don’t blame you for being cautious.”
He laughed. “Honey, I wasn’t just cautious. I nearly walked away from it all on the off chance I wouldn’t become a success. It was the dumbest thing I almost did.”
“So what changed your mind?”
“My mom. She said everything always came easy to me, and I had real talent. I’d always been a winner and that was great and all, but until I failed at something I’d never appreciate what success really meant.”
Jenna nodded. “Your mother sounds like a very wise woman.”
“I don’t know about that. She isn’t without her own faults and failures. But knowing she failed and picked herself up and started over made me believe I could do the same thing.”
“Then it sounds like she knows what she’s talking about. The voice of experience and all that.”
“Yeah, I listened to her advice and I took the leap.”
“Was it scary?”
“Scary as hell. And I did fail a few times. Got my ass kicked down to the farm clubs, had to work my way back up. Learned along the way that you have to work hard to succeed in this sport, the wrong attitude will get you sent down faster than you can spit, and the cream rises to the top.”
“You’ve obviously had a successful career, so you’ve done some things right.”
He nodded. “Some things, yeah. But lurking right around the corner is failure. You can’t overthink everything. Like those losses we’ve had recently. Spending time dwelling on them doesn’t help. If all you focus on is the failures, you can’t keep your eyes on success. I don’t think any athlete—or any performer—ever forgets that. If they do forget it, they’re likely to fail.”
“So what you’re telling me is I’m not the only one who’s afraid.”
He rubbed his thumb over her the top of her hand. “No, babe. You’re not the only one.”
“I’ll give it some thought.”
“Maybe you could start by singing in front of your family.”
Her eyes widened. “No. I can’t.”
He rolled his eyes. “I don’t think you’re giving your family enough credit. They seem really supportive.”
“Yeah. They’re incredibly supportive. That’s the problem.”
He frowned. “I don’t get it.”
She rubbed her temple. “I know you don’t.”
“Then explain it to me. Your parents seem to love all their kids. I don’t think it would matter what they did. Either way, you have to start somewhere. How else will you achieve your dreams? What do you want to do?”
“I’ve told you before. I’m already doing—”
He put his fingers to her lips. “No, really. What are your dreams? Be straight with me. What would you really love to do with your life?”
Jenna was about to brush Ty off with another lame excuse, but they’d really gotten into a deep and heavy conversation tonight, and he’d opened up to her about some of his own fears. It was only right to be as open and honest as he’d been.
“Honestly, one of the things I’ve often thought about is opening a second Riley’s, only this one for singing. Like the karaoke club we went to that night. But this one would be different. Instead of an occasional open mic night like they had, it would always be open mic night. And we’d bring in live bands instead of using a karaoke machine. Just a music bar. With no television screens.”
He laughed. “Obviously you’ve given this a lot of thought.”
She shrugged. “Now and then.”
“I think that’s a great idea. You’d have Riley’s Sports Bar and Riley’s Music Bar.”
“Yeah. It’s a pipe dream, though.”
“Why?”
“Who would run it? I run the sports bar. My mom and dad are mostly retired now. They hardly ever show up at Riley’s, and they never work the bar anymore. I run it single-handedly. I’m responsible for the bar.”
“Does it have to be a family member running the sports bar? You have a couple assistant managers, don’t you?”
“It’s kind of a family tradition that the bar is owned and operated by family, so yes. That’s always the way it’s been. And I do have assistant managers, but they’re not family. I would never think to ask Mom and Dad to turn the operation over to them. They’re not family members.”
“I think you’re too wrapped up in this whole family thing. The main focus is on the bar and how it’s run. If you have people who run it efficiently, who cares if their last name is Riley or not? Your assistants run the bar on your nights off.”
She lifted her chin. “That’s different. It’s not on a permanent basis and our regulars know that a Riley manages the bar. That’s what they expect. That’s what my parents expect. What my dad expects. After his heart attack last year, I don’t want him to think he needs to come back to work just so I can open another bar.”