Page 89 of Forecheck
Would I even be around to see it? I’d never once stopped to considerIcould be one of the guys wearing new colors in a new city, playing for a new team.
“I have to get home,” I said, standing up. Mitch followed me. “I…”
“Berk,” Mitch said with a nod.
Silently, we both withdrew a few bills from our wallets and tossed them onto the table, covering the beer we’d had and the food we wouldn’t be sticking around to enjoy.
Berk. Yes. Everything would be fine once I get home to my girl.
Not God, Just Brent
“Berk?” Brent yelled.
“In here!” I shouted from the kitchen, then moved into the doorway so he could see me. Instinctively, with one look at him, I knew what he needed from me in this moment.
He needed to forget for a while, and I’d be all too happy to distract him—to distract us both.
Brent covered the distance between us in three long strides and swept me into his arms, his mouth on mine in an instant. The kiss was bruising, designed to brand himself on my body, to fuse us together so everything outside of our connection ceased to exist. He moved through his apartment on autopilot, his lips never breaking from mine as he navigated us through the living room and down the hall.
The look in his eyes when he dropped me on his bed—wild, pupils blown wide with desire. He looked half-crazed, and I knew this wouldn’t be the slow, sweet love making of the last month.
This would be frantic fucking, and I’d let him use my body however he needed. To chase that darkness in his eyes away, I’d happily be his plaything.
“Strip,” he commanded, one hand reaching between his shoulder blades and tugging his shirt off in one smooth movement, his muscles rippling deliciously with each jerky, barely controlled movement. When his hands moved to his belt, I tore my eyes away and rose to my knees. Momentarily, my sweater joined his shirt on the floor, my bra following shortly after. Then I reclined and got my leggings as far as my hips before Brent, already naked, lost patience and took matters into his own hands.
His cock jutted between us, sleek and hard, moisture already beaded at the tip. I clenched my thighs in anticipation, surprised by how wet I already was, my arousal conjured simply from watching my man’s control ripped to shreds.
Brent watched me with stormy eyes. “You like this, don’t you? You like seeing me wild.”
I nodded, biting my lip as I opened my legs. His hands blazed paths up my thighs, spreading my pussy open, his fingers instantly coated with my desire.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Look how wet you are. I’m not even going to have to warm you up, am I? You’re going to take this cock in one thrust aren’t you?”
My heart rate kicked up with his filthy words, my chest heaving, and he smirked.
“Let’s see, shall we?”
I nodded emphatically, and Brent chuckled darkly.
“My dirty girl.”
Then he slid home, and I took him all at once, exactly like he’d predicted.
“Look how fucking perfectly you take me, Blondie,” he said, his hips slowly shifting back and forth. “I can’t think when I’m notwith you. I want you all the time.” Hooking both hands behind my knees, he pushed them back and wider The way he watched where we joined should’ve made me blush, but I’d be damned if I didn’t feel myself growing wetter around him.
“You’ve got me, baby.”
“Hold these,” he said, gesturing for me to replace his hands with my own. “Open wide, Berk.”
I did as I was told, and he dropped his own hands onto the mattress on either side of my head.
“I’m not going to be gentle,” he told me.
“I don’t want you gentle,” I said, driving my fingers into his hair and gripping the strands, yanking his head back so I could lick a path up his throat. “I want you just like this. My feral, wild boy.”
With a wicked grin, his hips slammed against me with reckless abandon, every single muscle in his body rippling in time with his thrusts. Sweat beaded on his temples and along his collarbones, and I lifted my head to catch a stray droplet with my tongue.
My release built quickly as Brent branded that impossibly deep spot inside of me, hitting it each and every time he thrust in. My hands were everywhere; I needed his skin against my palms, and he shifted enough to straighten my legs and hook my knees over his shoulders.
