Page 13 of Rushing Her: Seattle, Westerners
She opens her eyes, and I recognize in them how close she is to detonation. My finger works her faster as she bows up, and our lips touch, my tongue poking past the seam just like my cock dominates her pussy, and that’s when she loses it. She cries out into my mouth and comes hard as I piston inside her body until my balls draw up, and I slam in deep before erupting.
My knees lock, so I don’t drop to the ground. This woman shatters my control. I came here to talk to her and ask her out, but the moment I saw her, my need to be inside her took over.
We cling together for a few more moments as our breathing returns to normal. When I pull out, I notice she has a private bathroom and move that way. Grabbing a cloth, I wet it and clean myself up before returning to her office.
Alex stands, and I walk over to freshen her up. Her body trembles as I wipe her delicate skin, then I tug her panties back in place, slide her skirt down, and step away. She turns to look at me.
“Alexandra, I’m not taking no for an answer. We are doing this.” I pull her into my body. “We are adults now and have missed out on so much.”
She pats my chest, and when she looks up at me, uncertainty settles in her eyes. “I’m not sure I can do that.”
“Give me a chance.” I lean down and kiss her passionately. When I draw back, I hold her closer still. “I have practice every day, and our opening game is Thursday down in Portland.”
“I know. I’ll be there.”
“You will?”
She smiles softly as she looks down, then back up at me through her luxurious lashes. “It’s T.K.’s first game of the season.”
“Fuck that.” I squeeze her against my body. “Wearmyjersey and support me.”
“I can’t. We can’t make this public. Not with everything still up in the air with your career.”
I take a deep breath. “We need to talk, but I have a meeting with a friend. I’ll see you soon.” Grabbing the folder of pictures, I take it with me. “Be good,” I say, stepping out of the office and exiting the building.
Chapter 6
Brayden
The game has been challenging, but I continue to play hard. “Come on, guys, we can do this.” I try rallying my team, but most of them look at me like I’ve grown a second head.
It was hard apologizing for my previous behavior, but I did. Before we came out on this field, I promised to give them the best of me from now on, and I’m showing them that.
The Portland Settlers aren’t allowing us to take this game with ease. We are tied up again for the umpteenth time in this battle. I look at our quarterback, Brogan Bennett, and nod. We don’t always see eye to eye, but tonight, we are in sync. We run back out to the field as the crowd starts cheering. I look up and, there on the Jumbotron, is Brea, with Alexandra standing at her side. Brea wears her husband’s number, and I notice the pride wash over his face for a moment. It’s Alexandra I have eyes for, though. She’s not in a Portland Settlers jersey like she usually is for T.K.’s opening games; instead, she has on a black shirt with a denim skirt.
Just as the camera is about to pan away from them, Alexandra holds up her arm and touches the side of her face as if posing. The green and yellow wristband she flashes makes my heart thump harder in my chest. They’re the Oregon Ducks’ colors—the colors she wore every game for me, with my number on her body. Soon, I’ll have my number back on that tempting figure.
I can do this. I’m getting older, and my body aches after every game, but I push through, and when the snap occurs, I take off down the field. Bennett lets the ball fly, and it lands in my hands. I tuck the pigskin close to my body, protecting it, as I take off like a shot. I push with all my might to get in front of the Portland defense. The end zone comes into view, and I shift into top gear and knuckle down. A player approaches from my side, and I dodge away, hanging just on the edge of stepping out of bounds. I cross into the end zone before my body’s knocked out, but both of my feet landed in bounds; that’s all that counts.
A hand reaches out to help me up; it’s one of our rookie linebackers. “Good one, old man,” he chuckles, and we celebrate for a second before returning to the bench while the coaches call on Special Teams for the extra point. We are up by seven, and we hold it until the very end, winning by the skin of our teeth.
I call the PR rep over to me as we exit the field and tell him to bring Alex down to me. In the locker room, I race through my shower and dress in slacks and a button-down, with twenty minutes to spare before boarding the bus back to Seattle.
“Is she waiting?” I ask when he returns.
He nods, and I step through the door into the private office our coaching staff uses for visitors.
“Bray, you were amazing.” Alexandra smiles at me, and I move across the space to pull her into my body. Her perfume—that I’ve learned is Good Girl, from Caroline Herrera—washes over my senses, calming and soothing me. I will fight witheverything inside me for a future with this woman. We deserve it.
“I wish you’d go to my house and wait for me there. I want to hold you tonight.” It’s only been three days since I last had her, but it feels so much longer.
“I can’t. I have to fly to California for another player.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in a few days.”
The team’s PR guy pounds on the door, warning me that my time's up.
“Kiss me, Lexi,” I order her, and she stretches up on her toes and kisses me softly. I wrap my arms around her and bring her in close, taking the kiss deeper before the pounding resumes. “Thank you,” I say before nipping her nose and walking out, leaving her behind.
