Page 67 of Chasing The Goal
“You keep making those noises,” he said, voice low, “and I’m going to forget we’re pretending this is friendly.”
I opened my eyes, found his watching mine with something dark behind them. I didn’t flinch.
“What if I’m tired of pretending?”
His breath caught. His fingers curled slightly around my ankle.
I sat up, moved toward him before I could talk myself out of it, and straddled his lap—one knee on either side of his thighs. The air between us shifted, heavier now, threaded with heat and the tension we’d been dancing around for months.
His glasses slid off, landing somewhere behind us on the couch. “Mal,” he said, like a warning and a question all at once.
“Yes,” I whispered.
That was all it took.
His hands gripped my hips, his mouth claiming mine with a hunger that had lived just beneath the surface for too long. Our tongues tangled, breaths shallow, my body rocking against his as the seam of his jeans pressed right where I needed it most.
I moaned again, involuntary and desperate.
Jaymie groaned, rough and low. “Baby, if you’re gonna come, it’s gonna be on my tongue.”
He stood in one smooth motion, lifting me like I weighed nothing. I clung to his shoulders, breath hitching.
“Jay,” I said, half-laughing, half-panicked. “I’m— I’m not light anymore.”
“You’re perfect,” he said simply, carrying me down the short hall.
Hepushed open the door to his bedroom—a room I’d never seen, though I’d wondered about it more times than I’d admit. It was all deep navy and charcoal, soft shadows and thicker curtains. Clean, warm, private.
Sensual.
He set me down at the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of me.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
He peeled my maternity leggings down with maddening slowness, his fingertips dragging along the inside of my thighs like he wanted to memorize every new curve. Then came my top, peeled off over my head, and finally my bra, the cool air licking over my bare skin.
I hesitated, arms instinctively rising to shield my chest. My breasts had grown heavier, fuller—something I still wasn’t used to.
But Jaymie caught my wrists, gentle but firm, and pulled them away. “You’re beautiful, Mal. Every inch. Especially now.”
My pulse skittered.
He leaned in and took one nipple into his mouth, hot and wet, sucking until it peaked against his tongue. My hips jerked. He groaned low in his throat, switching to the other breast, his hands bracing around my ribs, his thumbs stroking slow, hypnotic circles over the sides of my stomach.
Then he kissed lower—down my torso, stopping at my bump. He pressed his lips there, soft reverence in every breath.
“I love this,” he said against my skin. “I love how round you are. How full. It’s driving me crazy.”
My thighs quivered as he hooked his fingers in my panties and tugged them down. I was already slick, aching for him, the heat between my legs nearly unbearable.
Jaymie pushed my knees apart and buried his face in me, no hesitation.
His tongue was relentless—licking, sucking, teasing me open until I was panting, clawing at his sheets. Every stroke was greedy, practiced, unashamed. He groaned like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted, like he was starving and I was his last meal.
“Oh fuck—Jaymie—don’t stop—” I sobbed, my legs shaking as the first orgasm shattered through me. But he didn’t stop. He held me open, tongue fucking into me until another wave hit, harder than the first, so sharp I almost screamed.
