Page 89 of Silent Count
“Yeah, but I don’t think I want to do that. Do you have any idea on when you might know where you might go?”
I shake my head. “Not exactly. I mean, I’ve had meetings with my agent, but right now, I’m focused on the championship game. Once I get through that, I’ll have more meetings and prep for the combine. By then, I should have a pretty good idea. But when I get back from the combine, I’ll come back here so I can be with you until the draft. And then you and I can decide if we want to go to the live draft or be home.”
“It’s a lot to think about. But I guess it’s not something we can figure out today.” She props her head on my chest and looks at me.
“Nope, not a today problem.” I roll my body so I’m aligned with hers. “But you know what we can do?”
She smirks. “What can we do?”
“We can make up for the last few weeks apart.”
“And how are we gonna do that?” She smiles at me and brushes her hand up my arm to my shoulder and into my hair.
“For starters, I think you should sit on my face. I need to taste you. It’s been too long.”
“But you just came inside me. I should probably go clean up first.”
“Why?” I put my hand between her thighs, and she opens for me. I run my finger through her and push my cum back inside of her. I pump my finger a few times, then pull it out of her and bring it to her lips. “Nothing wrong with it. It’s us. Open,” I say as I slip my finger inside her mouth. She wraps her lips around it and sucks. “Fuck.”
She pulls my finger out slowly. “Us.”
I nod, too turned on to speak.
She sits up and turns her body and straddles my head. “Well, I certainly don’t want to deny you, but I can’t let you have all the fun either.” She takes my cock in her hand and swirls her tongue over my crown.
I don’t waste another second; I pull her hips down on my face and devour her.
EPILOGUE
BO
This game shouldn’t be astight as it is. Our defense made a lot of mistakes in the first half, and we’ve been trying to fight back, but it seems like with every touchdown we make, they come back in and score too. It’s really fucking pissing me off.
I’m tired, my foot hurts from getting stepped on, and my nose is sore from getting smashed in the third quarter. It was nasty. Blood literally burst from my nose, and I had to keep playing through it because it happened right after the ball was snapped. And I have no doubt I’ll have some pretty nice bruises on my chest, even through my pads. They’re gunning for me tonight, and I’ve taken more hits than I should be taking.
It’s third down and one, with two minutes left on the clock, at their forty-yard line. We don’t have any time-outs left, and we’re down by a touchdown. If I can get down the field and also slow the clock down, we can win.
“Come on, guys! Wake up! I need every single one of you to lock in and get this done. Do you want this trophy?” I walk around the huddle, getting in their faces.
“Yeah!”
“Then prove it! Slant route on three. Break.”
We all clap, then go to the line of scrimmage. I look across and see where the defense is moving to determine which receiver I’ll throw to. They’re heavy on the left, which is where Casey is positioned. They expect me to throw it to him, so he’s getting guarded heavily today. He’s hurting just as much as I am, if not more.
I check my line and start the call. “Red thirty-three.” I look to my left first to let Casey know he’s not getting the ball. “Red thirty-three.” I look to my right and make eye contact with my other receiver, Isaac Johnson. He makes no move to indicate that the ball is coming to him. “Set. Hut!”
The center fires the ball to me, and I move to my right, outside the pocket, and look for Johnson.
He breaks through the defense and makes a sharp angle across one of the linemen toward the middle of the field. I bounce on my feet and spin to avoid a tackle. When I see Johnson is where I need him, I throw him a diagonal pass, and he takes off running and gets us the first down before he’s taken down with a tackle.
The clock is down to a minute thirty-five, and now’s our chance to get into the end zone and win this.
“Huddle, huddle, huddle,” I call out and wave my guys over. The noise of the crowd is almost deafening, and I can’t hear the calls coming through my headset. “Let’s shut this down.” I look at Casey, and he nods. “Trips Left Nine-Eighty-Seven Fade Susie. Break.”
We all clap.
This play should put Casey far enough down the field to get into the end zone, and Susie is our code for a silent count, which means my right guard, Davis Taylor, will watch for my signal and then tap the center to snap the ball. Once the center gets the tap, he’ll count silently to three before he snaps the ball to me.
