The babysitter returns part 2

“So tell me more about your career,” Daphne said as she snuggled closer to Gabe on the couch in his living room. “I guess people ask you this all the time, but what was it like?”
Gabe could think of a million other things Daphne could be doing with her mouth than talking, but he loved the feeling of her body snug against his enough to have some patience.
“It was great,” he said simply. “I played pro for about three years. It was such a wild ride most of the time. There were always parties, always women. Scores and scores of women who wanted me in their pants. It went to my head a bit, to be honest.”
“Do you miss it?” she asked, and he could hear she was trying not to let him hear the wistful note in her voice. But he was nothing of not honest.
“Not with you,” he said. “Not with you here with me. But sometimes, yeah. It gets lonely, living on my own after Beth and the girls. But the coaching helps me to stay connected to the game. I would have felt like an outsider to life without it. Football is all I know.”

She smiled a lazy, feline smile that heated his blood. “I can vouch that that is not true,” she purred. “You seemed quite the expert at love-making last night.”
Her eyes were all do-me, and her body was definitely speaking the same language. She turned so that her legs were lying across his lap and pressed back against the armrest of the couch.
“I can’t believe you gave me three thousand dollars like that,” she said. “how does a coach make that kind of money?”
He smiled at her, amused. “I coach a pro team,” he said. “You might have seen them win the NFL last year?”
She blushed. “Oh, my goodness,” she said. “That’s you? Aren’t you too young for that kind of coaching job?”
“I got lucky,” he admitted. “Put it this way. It’s true what they say – it’s not what you know, it’s who you know. I had a contact that got me the job on a temporary basis, but I proved myself and they made it permanent. Plus, I dabble in investments and stocks. I have quite the portfolio.”
She grinned again. ‘Yeah, you do,” she said and stroked the portfolio in question with her calves. “You feel like checking out my assets?”

How could he not want her? She was perfect. From her dark curls to her perfectly lush young body, she was just absolutely perfect. He trailed a finger over her leg, tracing a line from her ankle to her knee. Her skin was soft and smooth and he knew what it would taste like if he put his mouth just there, on that sensitive little spot just under her knee. He rubbed her knee, enjoying the look of bliss on her face when he started to massage her calves.
“Oh, yeah,” she moaned, and he shifted his hand higher, up and over her thigh. He was rubbing and massaging her muscles, his hands burning where he touched her skin. She was shifting around slightly uncomfortably, and he knew she was aroused. Her legs parted on their own when he pressed his hand between them and started rubbing her inner-thigh close to her hidden valley. His fingers felt the heat she was emanating, but he was careful not to get too close. He just her rubbing her leg up and down, until he noticed her nipples poking through the material of the shirt he’d given her to wear after her shower. It had been a few hours since the first time he’d made love to her, and he was more than ready for round two. Or three, depending on your definition of a round.

“I happen to have in-depth knowledge of your assets,” he said and she gave a low, sexy chuckle that sounded like black satin over a slick pussy. “As a matter of fact,” he said, taking both her ankles in one hand and pushing her legs up to her chest, “I’m crazy about your assets. I just can’t get enough of them.”
“I like the sound of that,” she said, slightly breathless.
“Hold your legs like this,” he said suddenly. “I’ll be right back. Or wait, better yet, come with me.”
“I plan to do that,” she said and let him pick her up like a bridegroom who wanted to carry his wife over the threshold. His strength was making her feel small and feminine and it was so romantic – this intimacy that neither of them had expected to share. She was wearing one of his shirts; a white button-up that reached her knees, the cuffs rolled up to free her hands. He was dressed in a pair of boxers, the sort of underwear that made women glad for the genius of Calvin Klein, and he was clearly far more comfortable with his naked body than she was. And he could afford to be. The man was a walking advertisement for sex and depravity.

He took her up to his room again and lay her down gently on the bed that was still rumpled from their earlier love-making.
“Assume the position,” he ordered and she frowned, uncertain.
“Like you were on the couch,’ he explained, taking her feet and bringing the closer to her shoulders. She hooked her arms behind her knee and managed to scoot herself backward until she was lying comfortably on the pillows.

“That’s a sight I can look at every day and not get tired of,” Gabe said, his voice dark and desirous.