Page 61 of Lucky Baller
“We have all night.”
I nod. “Okay, and we have an entire box of condoms, so let’s move this along, shall we?”
“I suddenly feel used.” He pulls almost all the way out, and I groan as he pushes back in. There is humor in his voice, so I don’t bother to comment.
“That, more of that,” I urge him instead. I wasn’t kidding when I said it feels as though we’ve had weeks of foreplay and then last night… last night was something off the charts. Sexy and comforting. He kept his word; he never tried to move things past kissing and roaming hands. Part of me hates to admit it, but I was testing him. He didn’t seem upset or aggravated; he didn’t even mention sex. He was perfectly content.
He tilts his head and presses his lips to mine. It’s sloppy and filled with an urgency I’ve never felt before. His thrusts increase in speed, and all I can do is hang on. Sliding my hands under his arms, I grip his back. My nails bite into his skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, it seems to spur him on.
My entire body is on fire, and I have electricity coursing through my veins. My release starts to build, the ache growing with each thrust of his hips. “Don’t stop,” I manage to force the words out.
“You wanted fast. That’s what you’re getting. I’m so fucking close. Your pussy is squeezing the fuck out of my cock,” he pants.
I don’t know if I’m supposed to respond, but I can’t because when he swivels his hips and hits that spot—you know the one that makes your legs quiver and has you feeling as though you’re free-falling off a cliff? Yeah, that spot—and all I can do is bite down on my lip and hold on for the fall.
“Fuck, Tess,” he grits out, slamming into me hard, and the fall that was on the horizon is here. My nails dig deeper, my back arches off the bed, and my legs hold tight as my release washes through me. On and on, tremors rock my body until there’s nothing left. I want to fall back into the mattress and revel in it, but he’s not done. Landon breaks free, pushing my legs backward, holding on to the backs of my calves, and hammers into me. A few quick thrusts and he’s clenching his jaw, calling out my name as he releases inside me.
When he finally stills and lowers my legs, he bends to kiss my lips. I feel him start to pull away, so I lock my arms and legs around him, holding him close. I’m not ready to lose this connection. This feeling of being his. It’s more than just intimacy, more than just sex. It’s… everything. He’severything,and it’s this moment I know I’m in deep. There is no chance of me keeping my heart out of this. I’m already too invested. I was only kidding myself thinking that keeping him at arm’s length would prevent a broken heart.
Maybe we’ll live happily ever after?
Not that I believe in fairy tales. I grew up without a father and with a mother who was still in love with a man she had only known for a week. That’s not very fairy tale-ish. It’s real, and in a way, I’m glad. I didn’t grow up with some unrealistic expectations of love and relationships. Life is hard; relationships are just as difficult, and it takes work. I’m willing to put in the work.
“I gotta take care of this.” He drops a kiss to my forehead and slowly disentangles his body from mine.
I immediately miss the connection. Grabbing the blanket, I pull it up over my naked body to ward off the cold. It’s a poor excuse for a replacement, but it will have to do. Closing my eyes, I replay what we just shared, trying to catalog every movement to my memory.
“Hey.” Landon’s soft voice has me opening my eyes. “Let’s shower.” He pulls the covers back, stands, and lifts me into his arms.
“What is it with you carrying me around all the time?”
“I like you in my arms, Freckles.”
When he says it like that, I can’t be annoyed he’s packing me around like a caveman would, and the nickname… well, that’s growing on me, too. When we enter the bathroom, it’s alreadysteamed up from the hot water. Landon steps inside, taking full advantage of the open walk-in space with me still in his arms.
“How are you going to shower while holding me?”
He chuckles, a deep sound that vibrates through his chest. “You think I can play football while holding you?” he asks, kissing the tip of my nose.
“Nope. I think the team and your coach might have something to say about that.”
“But everything is better—life is better when you’re in my arms.”
Who needs hot water? I melt from his words. “Sweet talker.” I pinch his side, and he wiggles, finally relenting and setting me on my feet.
“Not fair.” He pouts, and I have to admit, it’s adorable. He reaches for me, but I step back before he can make contact.
“Shower,” I remind him. “We’re never getting out of here if you don’t keep your hands to yourself.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“Yes.” I laugh, dodging his advances again. “I have to work tomorrow, and you have practice.”
“Let’s call in sick.”
“Are you even allowed to do that?” I ask, reaching for the body wash.
“Sure, it happens, but not very often. Most of us play through it.”
