Page 227 of Scoring the Player
Little shit. When my eyes dart to the bowl of batter, we both freeze and then scramble for it. I’m faster.
I step back and turn off the stove. “You get a three-second head start.”
He kicks off his briefs and guns it.
Before I take off after him, I notice the soy sauce sitting on the counter.
I sniff the batter.The hell?
Time’s up.
I race through the living room, headed for the steps, when I see curls sticking out from behind the couch.
It’s literally the worst hiding place in the whole house.
I tiptoe over and flip the bowl over his head.
“Muthafucka,” he curses, and before I can jump back, his leg kicks out, and I’m wiped out. He climbs on top of me and rubs his face all over mine, painting it with batter.
“Stahp!” I try to push him off me.
He wraps his hand around my throat. “Fuck me, bitch.”
I point to the console table as I drag down my sweats and briefs, the batter making my hand slip on the first attempt. He finds the condoms and lube and wings them at my head. I hold up my batter-covered hands. He snatches up the condom and rolls it on me, then spreads his legs and, squeezing lube on his fingers, starts opening himself up.
God. Damn.
I push him forward onto his knees, line up, and ease inside him. He hisses when I cant my hips. On my next drive, his knees slip in the batter, and he almost takes me down with him.
We both laugh, trying to steady ourselves, only for my knee to give out, and we both land flat, me on top. I wrap my arm under his chest to anchor myself and then thrust into him, hard.
“Ngh,” he moans.
Simba barks and then races out of the room.
“Scream my name like you did in the middle of the night,” I order. And because I have to earn it, I fuck him hard and withoutmercy, not stopping even as my name scrapes from his throat, again and again.
Blue’s so loud that at first, I think he’s the cause of the ringing in my ears. Then he stiffens as we both hear it—the doorbell.
We seem to wordlessly agree to ignore it as my hips pull back and I sink balls deep into him.
What if it’s Denzel?
He’d use his key, right?
Fuck.
“Hold on.” I kiss his cheek before pulling out and heading over to the security console. He flips onto his back and sits up.
I grin. “It’s your sister.”
“What?”
Anaïs is waving at the camera like she can see me.
He scrambles to his feet and almost loses his balance, sliding on the batter.
I take us in. “We look wild.”
