Long Shot (Taking the Shot #1)

by M.J. Fields

I scroll through Twitter and make an attempt at stomaching the bagel I’ve nibbled on so early in the morning as people file in. Everyone looks as miserable as I feel, which is comforting in a way. Everyone except for Leo. Of course I notice him. It’s impossible not to. He’s ruggedly stunning. A vision of strength and masculinity, with the face of a god. But there’s something to be said about the way he carries himself. I can’t help but look at him as his boisterous laugh fills the lecture hall. He’s wearing that same full outfit of his team’s merchandise that every hockey guy does. It suits him best.

The hundreds of articles about him shared by every St. Pete’s mom on Facebook are evidence enough that he’s set for the league once he graduates. He could also probably take up modeling. I can totally see him on the side of a bus in Calvin Kleins.

“You’re a lot more talkative now.” He sets his pencil down, leans back, and links his fingers behind his neck, tugging up his long-sleeved navy blue Lincoln Lions tee and making it hug his body tighter, showcasing just how dedicated he is to his training. “It suits you. You were always so quiet in school.”

“Exiting his wannabe celebrity era.” “It was about time, honestly. You can’t be smart and hot and then be self-obsessed on top of all of it. Really knocks you down a few points.” I set my fork down on my plate to make sure she gets how serious this statement is. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call my fucking brother hot?”

For some reason, my far-too-drunk brain and the make-out sessions going on around me has me thinking of Leo. I want to make out with him in the corner of a dimly lit room where nobody gives a fuck, but much less violently, of course. Gross.

“There’s gotta be someone you wanna kiss.” She manages to sit up cross-legged in her bed, chin in her hands like a toddler. “You would know,” I remind her. “You should kiss Leo Stone,” she states simply. “Leo Stone’s so cute. And good at hockey.” “You don’t watch hockey.” “And even I know he’s good.” She adds far too loudly, “And hot.” “He is hot.” “So, you should want to kiss him,” she continues for me. “You should sleep.” “You should kiss Leo Stone.” “I’m turning the light off now.” “Dream about Leo Stone,” she sing-songs. “Don’t pull trig,” I mimic.

“Straight to business, huh?” He shuffles through the stack of papers on the table, pulling out his lab manual and opening his laptop. His hands are fucking massive, fingers long and thick. “How was your day?” I snap my gaze from them to him. “I’m not letting you distract me,” I attempt to say, mostly to myself. It doesn’t work. “You find me distracting, not-Rhodey?”

I sink back into the uncomfortable wooden chair, narrowing my gaze. Of course I want to go to Ruben’s with him, but my chem grade matters more than a boy, even one who’s so incredibly hot even his hands are attractive.

“We’ve been over this, Elle. We have two weeks.” He rounds the car and reaches out, taking my backpack from my hand and flinging it over his own shoulder. Elle. I attempt to snap myself out if being giddy at him dropping Rhodey.

“Food is important.” “So is my chem grade.” I look at him over my laptop. God, those fucking eyes. So soft, like leather you want to sink into. “Elle.” He closes my laptop. “We’re going to be fine. Eat dinner and pretend to like me.”

“Just a water, thank you.” I give her a small smile, unsure if the churning in my stomach is the normal kind or the I’m-at-Ruben’s-with-a-cute-boy-who-I’ve-definitely-thought-about-kissing-a-little-too-often kind.

He’s incredible on the ice, yet I still hate every second of it. Not because of him, of course, but because Olly played hockey for a bit and I went to what feels like a million games at St. Peter’s. The man I’m watching is not the boy from chem. And definitely not the boy from St. Peter’s. I’ve seen him play, but I’ve never paid attention. Now, I can’t look away. He’s violent. Fast. Too fast. Almost too good. He moves past the defenders effortlessly, time and time again, only really losing the puck when he passes. In high school, we were just there to get out of the house, yet I’m sure I’d have noticed him if he played like this. I spent the one game I went to last year far too drunk to really notice what was happening in front of me. High school hockey is so different from college.

“You can when they dramatically rip their helmets off and drink their water.” She shakes her long blonde hair in the wind. “Hot.” “Sweaty mullets are not hot,” I say as I unlock my car. “Sweaty Leo is hot,” she challenges. “Thank God he doesn’t have a mullet. That would be a crime.” I try my best to ignore her as I turn my key in the ignition. “You think sweaty Leo is hot. Don’t deny it.” “I think Leo is hot,” I agree as I pull out of the parking lot. “She admits it!” She beams. “Dude,” I grumble. “You’ve seen him. I’m not a liar.” “I think he’s the only straight man who’s ever photographed well,” she says as she scrolls through the roster on her phone. “Actually, whoever Theo Rivera is does pretty well, too. Sebastian Giulietti?”

I hit the gas. “I was assigned to be group project partners with a kid I went to high school with.” “Who happens to be the star of the three-hour hockey game you just made me sit through.” “We go to Lincoln. We went to a hockey game.” “Where you proceeded to stare at your ‘group project partner’ for three hours.” She snorts. “He’s the best player on the team. Who else was I supposed to stare at?” “That’s subjective,” she snaps back.

After eating, I’m not moving. Not sure if it’s because I’m tired, or that I have the best seat in the house to watch Ellie Rhodes smile and laugh and look absolutely stunning with her girls. Not often you see a person who has an equally stunning face as they do a body, but she does. She has the most amazing body—curves in all the right places, obvious muscular build but not over the top. And her face? Her face is and always has been classically beautiful, with lips like pillows and eyes that are so warm and expressive, like right now, while we’re looking at each other. She’s loving that I’m watching. The thing is she wants it from this distance. I don’t.

I slowly make my way up the dimly lit stairs, trying to focus on the music rather than the way my hip pinches with every step. Probably should have stopped dancing earlier last night, but the way he watched me, how I may feel today was the last thing on my mind.

“What’s this?” I ask, picking up one of the papers in front of me and trying my best not to laugh. “Music appreciation.” He leans back and runs both hands through his mess of shiny waves. In doing so, his hoodie rises just enough to give me a sneaky peek at the dark line of hair trailing down beneath his track pants. This was a really bad idea. “I’ve been writing this stupid paper for four hours, and I still don’t appreciate it.”

When he looks down at the screen, he swallows. The way his Adam’s apple bobs is hot. I have to remind myself that it’s weird to think that someone’s Adam’s apple is hot.

“Breaking my heart, Ellie.” He smiles that earth-shattering little smile that makes me feel like I’m going to melt into a puddle on the ground. “Ellie, not once Rhodey since I’ve been here?” “I’m not drunk enough for this,” he admits, pulling off his hat and running his hands through his hair. There’s something beautiful about the way the light bounces off his cheekbones. Or maybe it’s just the fact that Taylor Swift’s playing and I’m a lot less inhibited.

“Olly’s Rhodey. I’m not calling a girl I want to kiss the same thing I call my friend from high school,” he explains. “Doesn’t sit right.” “You’re drunk.” “I’m finally getting to talk to you outside of lab and chem and fucking music-appreciation,” he corrects me. “Either let me kiss you or tell me no so I can stop thinking about it.” “Leo—” “Ellie.” He steps so close I can feel his breath on my skin now. “You don’t want this. Not really.” “Yes, I do.” He rests his hand on my waist.

And then he’s kissing me. I’ve imagined this moment, dreamed of it off and on since before I even had my first kiss. But nothing prepared me for how incredible it would actually be. His hand rests comfortably on the small of my back as his soft, full lips explore mine. He tastes like spearmint and vodka, or maybe I taste like vodka—I’m not sure anymore. All I know is there’s no barrier between him and I. There’s just us. I don’t know if I’m dizzy from the lack of oxygen or the alcohol, but I don’t care. I want to be dizzy. I want his lips on mine, his tongue tasting mine. I want more of it. “Leo,” I breathe his name onto his lips.

“Ellie.” His voice is deeper, rougher. He’s as affected as I am as he fights to steady his breath, as his thumb gently stroking my cheek. I rest my forehead against his, completely ignoring the busy room around us. Everything is muffled and blurry. Everything but him. I lose myself in him for far longer than I should, memorizing the warmth of his lips. The way his tongue moves. The feeling of his hands on my skin. The strobe lights reflecting in his expressive eyes. “Is this okay with you?” he asks softly. “Of course,” I breathe. I think I breathe, anyway. All I know is I want his lips back. “Good.” And he gives them to me. Alone in the crowded room, we kiss like neither of us can get enough of those light, barely kisses. The kind where your lips are so swollen you know they need a break, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. I’d never experienced that before, ever.

I lie in bed, eyes closed, our make-out session the other night playing like a movie reel on an endless loop. Neither of us have even given a nod to that night. Everything is just the same as it was before. Everything. Part of me is incredibly happy about that, while another part … wants more.

I don’t even mind the dirty looks. I’m too caught up in the thought of another stupid hockey party, and his stupid voice echoing through my mind, and another stupid excuse to kiss him.

“He’s shitfaced.” He shakes his head as he reaches up to set the bottle of vodka on top of the fridge, tee-shirt lifting just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his abs. Of course he has fucking abs. Why wouldn’t he? That would be like Disneyland not having Mickey Mouse, or Dean’s house not having pineapple White Claws. Flat-out wrong.

I bet those abs are lockable… 👅

The music gets progressively better as the night gets darker and the room gets more crowded. I lose track of how many drinks I have, and time, and everything but him. I find myself lost in his eyes. My thoughts. His kiss. The way he can actually dance and do it well. The fact that he makes sure Dean insists the DJ play three different Taylor Swift songs. One of them is “Cruel Summer,” and he knows the fucking words.

Once inside the bedroom, I finally exhale a held breath as I reach around him, shut the door, and flip the lock. I step back and see how he’s looking at me while moving closer. His hands take my face and tilt my chin up as he asks in a voice so thick, so deep, so filled with want … for me, “You okay with this?” I push up on my toes, lips a breath from his, and whisper, “Very.” His hands run down my shoulders, my arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “If you change your mind, tell me.” “I will,” I say softly then add, “But I don’t plan on it.” “Good.” He presses his lips to mine, toying with the hem of my shirt. “May I …?” “I love that you’re being sweet”—I press my lips to his— “and respectful”—again— “but I need you to quit being so sweet”—again— “and respectful.”

“Tell me you would do this sober.” “I would do this sober,” I agree. “Good.” He picks me up, setting me gently on the bed before pulling off his own shirt. My eyes stop on his perfect abs. With his thumb, he lifts my chin. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” “Not a chance,” I say with my hand between us, resting on his heated, hard, yet soft skin, trailing my fingers down his abs. “Promise?” All I can manage is a small nod. “Use your words.” There’s a darkness in his eyes I haven’t noticed before, an even raspier sound in his voice. Fuck. “I will.” “Good,” he exhales.

His eyes are locked with mine as he lowers his mouth, rubbing his lips just barely against mine. In the quiet of my room, I hear the low rumble escape his incredible chest as he removes the distance between us, settling between my legs as I spread them farther apart—eagerly—to allow for his body to fit. He’s hands down the best kisser, and like the other night, I want him to kiss me—no, devour me just like that—but that’s not all I want. “Ellie, are you—” I link my hands behind his neck. “Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

I feel his lips smile against mine, right before his tongue lightly presses against my already slightly open and wanting mouth. The goosebumps return, covering my body as his hand skates up my cheek and he angles my head to thrust his tongue deeper inside. I love the taste of him. His kiss is confiden...

Leaving one hand on the back of his neck, fingers inching up into his hair, feeling the silkiness of it between my fingers, I run the other down his rock-hard shoulder muscles, biceps, and forearms before moving it between us, skating it across the smooth skin of his incredible pecs. I’m rewarded with another deep rumble, this time in my mouth, and it’s like a spark ...

He takes my mouth completely, our tongues rolling like a slow evening tide, my heart slamming against the walls of my chest like a drum, and my center beginning to pulse, eliciting a whimper as I roll my hips, seeking friction. And oh, how I get it. With a groan, he tears his lips from mine, his mouth moving to the spot below my ear and across my neck. He stops at the place beneath my jaw and sucks lightly, causing heat to spill through me in a rush. I gasp at the feeling, the sensation that I have missed for far too long to think about. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks. I rock again...

I slowly inch my hand down his abs, reading each muscle like it’s braille as he moves back up, bringing his mouth down harder on mine. If I’d thought the last kiss was the best ever, I was wrong. This one is soul devouring. I’m shamelessly rocking against what feels like a huge dick, in an offering of more than just my mouth.

Stealing his lips from mine, he reaches between us and takes my hand, one and then the other, pinning them against my mattress as he takes me in. His eyes are black, like lava, and scorching each place they land. “Christ, Ellie, you’re even more beautiful than I imagined. Are we sure we know what the hell we’re—” I yank one hand from him, cup the back of his head, and pull his lips to mine. We kiss like we’re starving as clothes start flying. His pants, then mine. When I remove my panties, he pulls away, his eyes still locked on mine. “Jesus, it just keeps getting better.”

I take his hand and place it over my still covered, overly sensitive breasts. He groans as he cups them, which is followed by a slew of unintelligible curses that have me clenching...

He squeezes my breast gentler than his expression shows he wants to. “After that night, I kept telling myself to leave you alone, that I shouldn’t want you like this. But one taste and I was an addict.” His thumb brushes over my tightly peaked nipple, and I groan. “Tell me to stop now, and I’ll walk back to the house, take care of this ache in my balls, and fall asleep. I’ll buy you a boring vanilla vegan shake at Ruben’s when the team gets back from Jersey, and you can tell me what a douchebag I was to think I could have the Eleanor Rhodes beneath me, and I’ll sit there and take it like a champ.” Wait, did he just call me the Eleanor Rhodes? “Ellie?” he brea...

The look on his face, and the confidence in his statement has me nodding, “You s...

She removes her bra at a ridiculously slow pace. Her tits are fucking perfect, her nipples … Christ. “Are you wet for me, Ellie?” She watches my hand crawl up her thigh at an agonizingly slow space, supple lip between her teeth. I stall so close I could literally find out for myself, but this is Eleanor, and I’m already being selfish, because I know that the minute I graduate, that’s it. So, yes, I need to know she’s what she claims to be—one hundred and ten percent in. “Why don’t you tell me?” she replies, eyeing my dick.

I move beside her and seal my lips over hers, needing to be doing something else so I’m not staring at my finger sliding inside her bare pussy, a place I know is going to be nirvana. She gasps into my mouth as I slowly tease her slit, rubbing softly up and down her heat before sliding a finger inside. “Le-o-o.” She fractures my name with a quivering breath, and I want to hear it like that again.

I bow down and take one of her deep red nipples into my mouth. Her skin tastes and smells delicious. This time when she says my name, her hips pump up, and I make damn sure to avoid her clit. I want her to remember how she ached for me for months. I slowly tease her pussy as I feast on her tit, desperately wishing there was a way for me to have both in my mou...

Denying her isn’t easy, especially not as she wraps her hand around me and gasps as I groan, taking her mouth again, tasting deep inside, as I add another finger inside her heat. She’s tight, so tight, too tight. Stroking me with one hand, she uses the other to clutch my shoulder, and the shivers that have been running down my spine to my balls ignite. I force myself to mentally extinguish the flames coursing through me as I slowly slide my fingers in and out of her, finding tha...

I explore further, like Thanos searching for another infinity stone. I’m reading her body, studying each sound, seeking each hidden place to elicit more moans, more … “Leo,” she whimpers as her nails sink into my shoulders, the tension in her body becoming evident. “You ready to come?” For me. “Yes,” she exhales. “God yes.” I curve my finger inside her as I press my thumb to her clit, and I do it watching her come apart, ...

Once she’s panting and lying beside me, I reluctantly drag my fingers from her heat and press my lips to her forehead. “I’ll never forget how pretty you look coming around my fingers. I’m going to get off so many times picturing you begging for more.” “Not sure if future me should feel violated or flattered.” She closes her eyes as her lips twist up. Laughing, I press a kiss to those lips. “Definitely flattered. There’s only ever been one other woman—” Her eyes pop open. “Who?” “Hermione Granger,” I answer, intrigued by the interest. She pulls a pillow from her bed, cove...

Bowing down, I suck her other nipple into my mouth and watch as her knees clench together. I reach down and push my hands between her legs cup her bare mound, rubbing my thumb in circles around her clit. “You tired, tagging out, or—” “No,” she moans, removing the pillow from her face. “Good.” I bend down and take her delicious mouth again. Her hands make their way into my hair a...

We’re back into our kiss again. I’m not even a little opposed. Never have I loved the feel of someone’s hands in my hair like I do hers. Everything with her is extra leveled up from anything I’ve ever felt, seen, touched. Her hands in my hair, her tongue teasing mine,...

She snatches the box from my hand, tears it open, and pulls out a packet. When she tears it open with her teeth, I have to stifle a groan. “Want me to …?” She waves around the average size condom for my not so average size dick. “Probably best I do that.” I take it from her and begin the process. When finished, I look at her, light brown eyes glued to my semi sheathed dick. Then I reach up and cup the back of her neck, bringing her lips down to mine.

Smoldering embers reignite immediately … or so I think until she mutters, “Want me to finish that?” “We’re good.” She breaks the kiss and looks down. “It’s not covering your whole”— she looks back down at it, and I wait for her to say something sexy, hot; something to stroke my ego as good as she was my dick minutes ago— “stick.” I cringe. “Stick?” Her eyes pop back up to mine, amusement dancing with lust, another new experience for me. “Could have said twig.” A deep laugh escapes my chest as I roll her to her back and settle between her legs. “You’re a lot of things Eleanor Rhodes, but a liar isn’t one of them.” I reach between us and slide a finger through her folds. “Fuck,” she sputters, her back arching. “So many ways I wanna do that to you, Ellie. But first …” I kiss down her jaw, her neck, sucking across her tits.

Her hand brushes against mine between her legs and grabs a hold of me. “Let’s start here.” She rubs it against her. “No need to ask permission.” I pull my finger out from between her legs and grip her wrist, pulling it away from my cock and pinning it to the mattress as I ...

As I lift her leg, I feel her body tense. I look up at her, her eyes meeting mine as I lick lower. “Leo,” her voice quivers. “You don’t have—” I rub my nose across her belly, her scent making my mouth water. All I can manage is two words. “Need to.” Her eyes close tight, and she grips the sheets as I lift her leg, placing one over my shoulder. Then I lean in and trace her slit wi...

She does that thing again—gives the sound of my name … more. “Le-o-o.” Something about that drives me in a way I’ve never been driven. I slice into her, tongue her walls, tasting liquid heat and want as her heel digs into my back. Her whimper is so sexy, and the deeper my tongue penetrates, the more she gives it to me, so I reach around and pull her other leg to rest over my shoulder. Face buried between her legs, I l...