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“It’s pretty simple. You hit the ball at the front wall, between the tin and the out line. It can hit the side and the back walls and bounce once off the floor. Then I hit it, then you hit it, then I hit it back, till one of us misses, and that’s a point. First one to eleven points wins the game.”
Izzy frowned. “What’s the tin?”
“That bottom line there.”
“And those are all the rules, hit between those two lines?”
“Well, there are others, but let’s ignore them for now. Let’s just get you hitting that ball.” I tossed her the ball. “You can serve first.”
“So I just hit it?”
I nudged her into the service box, my hands on her hips. “Now you can hit it. Hard as you can.”
She tossed the ball in the air, swung her racquet, and missed. “Shit! What does that mean? Do I lose a point?”
“You don’t have any points, and let’s just ignore that. Go on, try again. Pretend it’s your boss.”
Izzy swung again, and this time she nailed it. The ball whizzed through the air and smacked off the wall, and I whacked it back to her. She dove for it, shrieked, then spun away, ducking as it ricocheted off the wall.
“It nearly hit me!”
“You’ve got to hit it first.”
Izzy stood for a moment, shoulders raised, scowling. Then she tossed me the ball. “Okay. Your serve.”
I lobbed her an easy one, and this time she hit it. She flung her arms up and cheered, and missed my return.
“Damn it, okay. Okay, let’s get serious.”
I served again, and Izzy went for the ball. She slapped it back hard and it almost flew by me. She was picking up the game faster than I’d expected. Faster than I had, or any newbie I’d seen. Her sharp eyes and focus made her a natural. Her long legs were perfect for chasing the ball. Seven serves in, and she scored her first point off me. I’d expected to sweep her our first game at least, probably our first several, but she scored three more points for an eleven-four finish. She stood panting, and I grinned at her.
“Having fun?”
Izzy looked up at me. “Let’s go again.”
We went again, and Izzy let loose. She went after the ball with all she had, shoes squeaking, hair flying, racquet singing through the air. I got distracted watching her, the force of her fury, and she scored the first three points in as many minutes.
“Are you letting me win?”
“No! You’re just?—”
“What?”
“I’m just glad it’s not my face you’re picturing on that ball.”
She laughed, tossed the ball, and served hard. I got my head in the game and beat her again, but this time the score ended up six to five. We both wound up breathless, reeling together, and I got my arm around Izzy to steady her on her feet. She was shaking with laughter, her dark eyes sparkling, and she tossed her head back to shake her hair off her face. I tucked it behind her ears.
“Pretty good, huh?”
“Yeah, that was awesome.” Izzy’s smile was wide, genuine, and it felt good to see. “I started out like you said, picturing their heads as the ball. Which, yeah, that felt great, but then I got into it, and I was just having fun.” She pulled me down and kissed me, then pressed our foreheads together. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I didn’t think anything could make this day better, but right here, right now, I feel amazing.”
I tilted her chin up and kissed her again. A shiver ran through her, and she raked her fingers through my hair. She pressed up against me and I walked her backward, crowded her up against the back wall. Her kisses grew fiery, sharp nips to my lip. I lost myself in the feel of her, her closeness, her scent. Her sweat-damp hair stuck to my face. I could feel her fast heartbeat, her pulse in her veins, the gust of her breath against my dry lips. It made me want all of her, and I pulled back, gasping.
“We can’t do this here. I’ll get banned from the club.”
Izzy jerked my head down and kissed me again, the tug on my hair making my cock throb. I bucked up against her and gripped her hard by her shoulders, pulling her to me then pushing her away.
“Don’t get me wrong. You’re worth it. You are.”
