"That," Foreman said, snapping a soft chest pass at Amber, "was flirting." He arched an eyebrow, leering at her happily as she stretched. She'd know a truly horny move when she saw one. Or felt one. She'd told him not to hump her leg, but he didn't see how he could avoid it, seeing the way she bent over the ball, elbows sticking out like wings, her balance completely off as she dribbled around the edge of the court. Foreman kept close, on the balls of his feet, staying between her and the net but making no move for the ball. He could've stolen it from her a dozen times over, but he was actually studying her technique as much as he was keeping his hips glued to hers for...aesthetic reasons.
Last night he'd worked himself up so much, straining against those damn handcuffs of Amber's, that he'd thought he'd ache in the morning. The hot bath had helped, but he could still feel the pull in his muscles as he got into the game a little bit. Since Amber wasn't giving him much of a challenge, he took the time to work out some of the kinks and get through his initial stiffness. Would've been better if they'd stretched, but this was so much more fun. He resisted stroking a hand down Amber's spine or pinching her ass--that'd be cheating.
The longer she worked her way to the basket, though, the less Foreman believed she was as bad as she made out. She was just a little too awkward, the ball too invitingly easy to snatch. He wouldn't be surprised if she was trying to con him. When she twisted and made her shot, he raised his hands too late to block it, and glanced over his shoulder to see the ball swish through the net. Perfect. Chuckling, he nodded at Amber's celebration. She was trying to play him. Well, he wasn't going to lose to please her, that was for damn sure.
"One nil," he acknowledged, and held up his hands for her pass, taking the ball easily up to the foul line. "Play to eleven?" They didn't have time for a full game, and besides, Foreman was far more interested in defense than offense. Once Amber was in position, Foreman dribbled in big, exaggerated movements--she wasn't the only one who could pretend. He flicked his eyes right, twitching in that direction, and then slid easily to the left, going around her and flicking the ball up for an easy shot. Reaching out, he collected it as it fell and passed it back to Amber.
After all, the chance to drive Amber crazy, following her around the court, leaving not so much as an inch of space between them as she tried over and over again to drive to the net, was the best time he'd had in weeks. She was worried that they'd been in bed and hadn't had sex, but as far as Foreman was concerned, this was more of a tease than a simple hug and quiet conversation ever could have been. Keeping close, watching the sweat start to gather along her temples, panting himself as he blocked her shots, was practically foreplay. Amber was fast, but Foreman had the advantage of position, and on the smaller court, that meant more. He let her twist and dodge, and then, at the last minute, he'd sweep the ball out of her hands. One quick jog up past the foul line and he'd take a jump shot, hitting the net from farther and farther out each time, stretching himself a bit.
He'd hit four shots in a row when he finally over-judged himself, and his shot hit the rim, the rebound taking a bounce practically into Amber's hands. She was already close to the foul line. Damn. Foreman sprinted to get in front of her, but he'd put himself badly out of position.
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Last night he'd worked himself up so much, straining against those damn handcuffs of Amber's, that he'd thought he'd ache in the morning. The hot bath had helped, but he could still feel the pull in his muscles as he got into the game a little bit. Since Amber wasn't giving him much of a challenge, he took the time to work out some of the kinks and get through his initial stiffness. Would've been better if they'd stretched, but this was so much more fun. He resisted stroking a hand down Amber's spine or pinching her ass--that'd be cheating.
The longer she worked her way to the basket, though, the less Foreman believed she was as bad as she made out. She was just a little too awkward, the ball too invitingly easy to snatch. He wouldn't be surprised if she was trying to con him. When she twisted and made her shot, he raised his hands too late to block it, and glanced over his shoulder to see the ball swish through the net. Perfect. Chuckling, he nodded at Amber's celebration. She was trying to play him. Well, he wasn't going to lose to please her, that was for damn sure.
"One nil," he acknowledged, and held up his hands for her pass, taking the ball easily up to the foul line. "Play to eleven?" They didn't have time for a full game, and besides, Foreman was far more interested in defense than offense. Once Amber was in position, Foreman dribbled in big, exaggerated movements--she wasn't the only one who could pretend. He flicked his eyes right, twitching in that direction, and then slid easily to the left, going around her and flicking the ball up for an easy shot. Reaching out, he collected it as it fell and passed it back to Amber.
After all, the chance to drive Amber crazy, following her around the court, leaving not so much as an inch of space between them as she tried over and over again to drive to the net, was the best time he'd had in weeks. She was worried that they'd been in bed and hadn't had sex, but as far as Foreman was concerned, this was more of a tease than a simple hug and quiet conversation ever could have been. Keeping close, watching the sweat start to gather along her temples, panting himself as he blocked her shots, was practically foreplay. Amber was fast, but Foreman had the advantage of position, and on the smaller court, that meant more. He let her twist and dodge, and then, at the last minute, he'd sweep the ball out of her hands. One quick jog up past the foul line and he'd take a jump shot, hitting the net from farther and farther out each time, stretching himself a bit.
He'd hit four shots in a row when he finally over-judged himself, and his shot hit the rim, the rebound taking a bounce practically into Amber's hands. She was already close to the foul line. Damn. Foreman sprinted to get in front of her, but he'd put himself badly out of position.