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Eye fucking.
According to Cara it’s just that one look that lingers too long, when a person scans you with that look in their eyes. Like they’re seeing you, seeing past your really awesome, flattering silver dress, like they’re undressing you with their eyes, like they want to have you but they can't.
Ginny’s been eye-fucked a lot – by all sorts of men, some women too.
But there’s only one pair of interested eyes that stay with her, invade her dreams – bore through her skin.
His eyes flit about the room, as though he’s sensed that he’s being watched. His restless gaze stops, those beautiful inset hazel eyes coming to rest on her. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t flick his eyebrows, doesn’t wave. He just looks. She presses the bottle to her mouth a little too hard, and takes a sip.
There’s something different about him tonight – she can’t tell what.
His eyes narrow a bit, and then widen. Like - whatever that means, Ginny feels flattered by it. She takes a big fat gulp, hisses when heat burns down her throat. She feels a little more than hot all over, her armpits feel a little more sweaty than they should, her chest feels a little more than tight and warm.
She stumbles out of the back entrance, out of the party. Away from the maddening mob of people thronging her, away from those intent eyes. She breathes heavy gulps of air, the sweat freezing over her skin under the subzero climate.
“Baker?”
“Lawson.” She sighs, but doesn’t turn around.
“Everythin’ all right?”
She whirls around – her head swims with it. She grapples the first solid thing she can find before she becomes a human puddle on the floor. That solid thing is him – as it turns out.
Those strong, steady biceps that power a baseball bat, sending ninety plus fastballs out of the park.
Ginny finds herself backed up against the wall and him – all around her, crowding her space, in her face, arms loosely bracketing her waist.
She can’t look at him. She looks at his shirt. She wonders what’s his deal with button downs, she wonders if he’ll notice in case she licks those freckles peeking out, the ones under his neck.
"You wanna get out of here?" He asks with that voice, low and hypnotic.
“No.” She looks up. “I want a follow up.”
“A follow up on what?””
“On the way you’ve been fucking me with your eyes all night.”
“Baker.”
“If I’ve misunderstood then you should back off.” She says, shaking her dizzy vision away. “Be a friend to me tomorrow – but not tonight.”
Yeah, she’s done with all the back and forth. She’s just – she’s done. She looks him – straight in the eyes as she speaks. They've been dancing around each other for months with all the ‘we’re teammates’ and ‘we’re just friends’ and the ‘we don’t discuss this’ shit. Ginny decides at the point at which he snaps his eyes to her, his forehead furrowing with those sexy lines, that if she is going to hit the self-destruct button anyway she's fed up of ruminating about it.
He studies her face.
“We can pretend I was drunk and not thinking straight. We can pretend this conversation never happened.” She states when he doesn’t say anything. “But you gotta back off now. Let me go.”
“You haven’t…”
“Don’t tell me what I’m supposed to think or how I’m supposed to act, for fuck’s sake.” Ginny twists her mouth. “I'm not acting out or having a moment or anything, just – go.”
“Because you make the calls now?” He says, cocking his head, looking at her mouth.
Ginny’s throat feels parched. Her eyes drift to his mouth. Those whiskers framing his lips – the soft brush of that wispy hair on her lips all those months ago. She thinks about it. A lot.
“For the record.” He says. “I was saying, that you haven’t misunderstood.”
"Either you back off now or…" She loses her train of thought. “Huh? What?”
He bends his head. "Or?"
Ginny whimpers when his hands slip up, over the butter-smooth fabric of her dress. His palms feel callused and cool when they run over her shoulders, his fingers feel oddly warm when he trails them up her chin.
"Or fuck me." She whispers.
"Mmhmm." He says.
She swallows a dry lump again, pushing her head back against the wall, waiting.
He dips his head, Ginny sighs.
It’s gentle kiss at first – and then something inside her just melts. She moans and opens her mouth, arching her back forwards when he snakes his arm behind, his palm splaying over the exposed back of her dress.
He’s such a good kisser, it’s a goddamn crime to waste those lips – is what she thinks.
Ginny whines and pushes herself up, rubbing her chin against the soft downy beard. He grinds his hips into her belly and she finds herself pressed up tighter against the wall. She gets all excited herself - slipping her arms around his neck, rubbing her boobs up against his chest. Her head rolls under his, falling like jelly against his shoulder when he tilts his face, his free hand slipping over her hips, over her ass and...squeezing.
Ginny lets out a muffled protest at the loss of contact – her mouth pouting in the wake of the kiss as she staggers. If it wasn't for Mike's grip around her – she'd probably have fallen flat when he pulls back.
He tugs her by the wrist and she trails him. Amazed that her legs indeed have bones that work. Quiet, obedient – horny bones.
“Get in.” He orders, stern but quiet. Ginny looks at his convertible – sleek, stylish, reflective of his fancy-ass preferences. She wonders if he’s ever fucked his groupies in it. She doesn't really care, is what she thinks in the after.
“Are you gonna regret this and make things awkward between us?” She asks, leaning against the car door.
“Things are gonna be super awkward, Baker.” He says softly, opening the door. “But I’m not going to regret you...never you.”
Something about that look on his face makes something inside her snap.
She lunges towards him. She slams her mouth on his, nips at the fattest part of his lower lip, makes out with his hairy face. He gives a low growl, wraps one arm around her waist, opens the door of the backseat with the other. He grabs her head protecting it from the roof and pushes her inside.
They break this kiss momentarily, her scampering back up against the opposite side, kicking off her shoes, frantically reaching for his shirt, yanking him inside, making him bump his head against the roof. He hooks his shoe around the handle of the door and pulls it shut. She would commend him for all the foot-dexterity if she wasn't distracted with all the kissing.
She hikes up her dress over her thighs, clambers into his lap
Her jagged gasps intermingle with his raspy breathing, they fill the silent small space of the car.
Ginny finds she cannot discern the colour of his irises in the dim light, but she can make out his facial expressions. He’s looking up at her face, pushing her hair back – with this kind, affectionate reverent smile.
Ginny tugs on the shirt buttons, pressing eager kisses over his beard. "Mike. Mike. Mike." She repeats between pants when he gets his mouth on her neck – his hand creeping up under her dress over her thighs. She grabs his shoulders and pushes him back against the backrest, cupping his face. “I want this.”
"Uh huh. No kidding." He murmurs, threads his hand through her hair and pulls her head down.
She licks his tongue, grinding her hips down against that hard bulge that’s pressing under her thighs.
"No, I mean..." She feels her dress give way when his hands find the zipper, she drags the thick silver sleeveless shoulders off her dress.
His gasp is audible – and gratifying. He stares at her breasts – eyes drift up to her face when he cups them.
“No, I mean, this is on me.” She says.
“I’d like to think I have some say in it.” He smirks. He runs his hand down the sides of her waist.
Ginny makes a sound that's midway between a purr and a whine and then wrestles him till he can lie back on the seat, half giggling – half panting. He breathes out a small chuckle as his legs swing up. He adjusts so she can wriggle herself down to his lap. Mike closes his eyes and mumbles lifting his hips when she tugs his jeans down. "Baker – " He says. "You’re my rookie..."
She looks up at him and the corner of his mouth lifts up in a lopsided smirk. "I am your captain." His breathing hitches when she gets him in her hand.
He’s beautiful. Thick, long and hard.
Mike groans and throws his head back when she jacks him off. "Yes captain? " She whispers. Ginny feels his dick swell up some more at that.
“Baker." He grabs her waist and pulls her up so she can stretch out over him – her hand involuntarily yanking on him. He grinds out another moan.
"What?" She rasps.
He raises an eyebrow at her suggestively. A bright smile spreads across her face when he wraps his arm around her and flips them – their legs and arms knocking everywhere in the confined space of the car.
“I make the calls.” He declares. “I give the speeches.”
“Newsflash, captain.” She answers, cheekily. “Your speeches are far too long.”
"Oh yeah." He mutters. Ginny can feel him clench. All over. His teeth, his lower belly, his beautiful-as-fuck manhood. He ducks his head to capture a swollen nipple in his mouth.
"Yeah – I find them borin-nnhhhMike!"
He insinuates his hand between her thighs, they feel warm and moist against her skin. "Okay – just this once, Baker. " He draws back, his voice satisfyingly hoarse. “Don’t interrupt me.”
“What are you saying?” She pants. Mike shifts his hands up. “I don’t interrupt –“ She makes to argue and then –he bites the smoothest part of her neck, rubs his fucking beard against it – until she moans out. “-Fuck!”
But she’s not going to give up that easily.
"You’re the one who gives the endless spee..." She starts to say, breaks off with a loud, aroused gasp when his hand moves up, rubbing the dampened crotch of her panties. "Oh!"
"Exactly." He mutters pressing his mouth on her chin. Her grip tightens around his dick. “I’m the one who gives the speeches.”
"So?"
"So, you do as I say." He says, nipping along her jaw, brushing his chin after he grazes his teeth.
"Which is?"
"Come on, Baker. Shut up." He murmurs, closing his eyes, dropping his head into her shoulder. He adds pressure, rubbing her through the panties. He finds that stiff little nub, groans as she strokes faster.
"Okay." She breathes back, her husky intermittent gasps becoming more frequent as she starts rolling her hips up against his hand.
Mike has a wide grin on his face he pulls back. It doesn't really take long for her to clasp the side of his face with her free hand, and smile back, rubbing against his beard with her thumb.
"I hate the beard." She says, because she likes being a brat with him.
He rubs it against that smooth spot on her neck again. Ginny's body curves up, involuntarily.
"You love the beard" He corrects her, giving her that pointed eye-brow shrug.
He is right. No point in denying it.
"Do you like that?" She asks, her cheeks puffing out, as she jacks him off harder, looking down between them. "Is this okay?”
Mike silences her doubts with a long kiss. He runs his tongue over her lips. “You’re so wet, Baker.” He mumbles, managing to shove the slip of cloth away, runs the fattest part of his middle finger over her erect clit, drumming the other fingers over the soft folds.
“Smooth as a baby.” He mutters, playing with the folds of skin. He’s gentle, she notes, but not in a boring way. He’s peering into her face, like he’s trying to record her reaction. He hums and rolls his eyes shut. It’s as if, he finds more pleasure in touching her pussy than her jerky hand movements. Frustrated little grunts escape her – his dick is leaking, she finds it slippery and difficult to grasp.
“So fuckin’ wet for me.” He groans, his fingers working against her furiously. “You want it that bad, huh?”
“Yeah.” She dares him. “You’re gonna give it to me good, Cap?”
“You want my fingers?”
Ginny does, but later.
"You want my mouth?" He offers, with a smug grimace.
Ginny does, but later again. Right now, she wants that ginormous dick inside her, so bad, her cunt just clenches with anticipation.
“Fuck, you want my cock, don’t you?” He whispers, his voice deep and throaty. “Impatient Rookie, she can’t even wait.”
Her cunt drools as a reply. The man’s a fuckin’ mind reader.
“You wanna be on top?” He asks.
She gives him a hopeful smile. “Yeah.”
“Oh good.” He says, his face going flat like they're chattin' 'bout the weather.
“You gonna let me?” She lifts her body up, ready to flip positions.
“Nope.” He gives her a cheeky-ass grimace.
She throws her head back and laughs.
“Oh – that laugh.” He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. Ginny feels his dick shiver in tandem.
“I thought you said it was horsey.” She murmurs.
“It is horsey.” His eyelids flutter open, he drops a kiss on her mouth. “And I love it.”
He smiles at her and she feels cherished.
She releases his dick, drags his head down with an open-mouthed smile – their noses knocking against each other and his tongue reaching into to lick hers. She moans in pleasure reaching for his shirt working it off– but his mouth is already half way down her neck with small, pleasing little nips over her skin.
Yeah, she totally loves the beard.
They fumble around as he gets her panties off, bunching her very expensive dress around her waist.
She helps him shove his jeans down.
He knocks his head against the roof of the car, several times, swearing many a colorful expletive while he fishes a condom out. Ginny pats his hair, attempting to soothe the sore spots while as he rolls the condom on.
She moistens her mouth, when his eyes meet hers. They've gone dark, pupils blown – like – she has a fair idea that she works that body angle the way he’s just glancing at her breasts with unmasked lust, but there’s more to it. He seems captivated by her face.
She slides her palms over the fine hair that fans out on his chest, runs her sticky fingers over all the smooth parts of his skin. She skates her palms on his back, feeling around for the flat freckles she knows are there.
He reaches for his sheathed erection and teases her with it. His hands skim down her skin and she sucks in air when he cups her breasts, his thumbs grazing against her nipples. She flops back, leaning her head, against the window – smiling up at him and adjusting herself while he hunches over, resting his weight on his palms, curling on the topedges of the seats on either side.
And the car – it sort of creaks.
Ginny gets distracted by the creaking when she leans back on her elbows while he's pushing her thighs apart. Distracted enough for him to take her by surprise when he shoves his dick in.
Oh fuuuuuck! "Mike..." She whispers, splitting her legs wide. She slides down, one leg wrapped around him, the other sole flattening up on the roof. She whines out – long and hard, grappling his shoulders, screwing her face, eyes snapping to a close, loving the way he fills her up.
The sudden surge of – whatever she feels – it's like a high.
“You’re so tight.” He gasps. He smoothes his hand over her side and reaches up towards her tits to fondle. She arches her body up against his touch – and he lifts his head up looking at her, tensing inside her.
“Fuck, Baker.” He mutters. Ginny flinches – her legs hitting the closed sides of his car at odd angles, her arm roping around his back pulling him down, holding him against her body tighter.
Mike sighs, ducks his head and licks her tits. Ginny lifts one hip, flattening a foot against the back of his thighs and slipping it down, until she's rubbing up and down along the back of his folded knee.
She struggles to steady her breathing, her heart feels like it's just about ready to pummel its way out of her chest.
“You like that?” He asks, leaning up to kiss her.
“Mmhmm.” She hums, burying her nose in his shoulder.
Mike starts rocking into her, fucking her nice and slow. She throws her head back and sighs.
“That feel good?” He breathes in her ear.
"Oh god, yes!"
He stops.
Ginny’s eyes fly open – his are fixed on hers, dark as the night.
"How good?" He rasps out.
She hisses, starts rolling her hips, grinding around his dick. He grabs her waist to stop her from moving.
"Mike..." She protests.
"How good...?" He pinches her clit. Her body jolts – like she's just been beaned in the solar.
"Mike...oh god! Come on!"
"How good, Baker?" He demands – his voice alarmingly steady.
"Fuck...Lawson. Yes..!" She whimpers, pleadingly. "So so so good!"
He closes his eyes, sniffs like he’s inhales her scent and fucks her faster and deeper. The car starts to rock with them, making squeaky noises that keep up with all the gasping sounds.
Ginny’s throbbing already, her clit feels so hard, her thighs are trembling. Mike’s face, is covered with sweat, his thrusts become more forceful, more disconnected with hers.
"Ginny..." He grinds her name out through clenched teeth. It feels intimate coming from his mouth.
He swallows – like he’s in pain – his Adam's apple bobbing repeatedly. "Baby – you close?"
"Yeah!" She gasps, in a high pitched voice. "You?"
"Yeah..." He half laughs, opening his eyes and looking at her.
"I'm gonna...unh!" She trails off.
Ginny can’t be sure, but maybe she is.
It’s his eyes that do it for her. He’s locked gaze with her and it feels like everything makes sense, even though nothing does.
She stops moving – grits her teeth. Her lower body clenches, her cunt tightens around him – she cries out, both her arms flailing out. One hand finds purchase on the back of the front seat right next to Mike’s large palm, the other grips his ass. She moans, her vision filled with an explosive brightness. She’s floating, like her soul disconnecting with her body or something like that.
It’s his his hard, muscular ass, under her palm, pounding at her that brings her to her senses.
Mike groans, his jaw slacks and she feels a shudder pass through his entire body before his hips buck towards her one final time.
Ginny draws her limbs, wraps herself around him, hugs him tight as he flops his weight over her. His breathing loud and heavy. She can hear his heart thumping against his chest.
Her name – he growled out her name.
He slips out of her, probably takes care of the condom while he’s at it. Ginny can’t tell, she feels like a whole pile of mush. She clings to him, body half-twisted in the small space of the car.
Mike makes a sound that isn’t pleasant, and given the way he’s moving his knees, it seems like his knees are cramped and giving him trouble. She feels him kick off his jeans before he manoeuvres them so that they’re lying on their sides, facing each other, limbs crowded uncomfortably against the doors.
A sharp, heady, fragrant-y smell reeks in the car, Ginny reckons its his cologne and her perfume mashed with the smells of sex and sweat.
His mouth opens – like he wants to say something. But, he tilts his chin, looking at her, like he's surprised. He rubs her back gently, fiddles with her dress every now and then.
“Mike?” She croaks, when she finds her voice.
She wants to tell him then. That what she feels – it’s not just a casual sexual attraction or some itch that needs to be scratched.
“I uh…” She looks into his eyes and the sound dies in her voicebox. I- what? She asks herself. This is more that just like, for her. Its teetering over the edge, dangerously close to lo-
Oh.
Oh.
He’s looking at her intently – same way he always does when he's focused on her. Those beautiful, hazel, intuitive eyes. So expressive, so guarded. On the field, off the field, when they’re alone, when they’re around others.
Those eyes that fucked her but made love to her as well.
“I know, Baker.” He says – sounding as thick and as choked up as her. He nuzzles her nose and kisses her forehead. “Me too.”