Page 110 of Racking Up Penalties
His lips continue their journey, pressing against the exposed skin in a way that feels incredible.
Ethan’s hands are firm yet gentle as he guides me, a silent request that I bend, that I trust him with my vulnerability. I shift onto my knees, the plush bed beneath them cushioning my posture.
I lower myself onto my palms, my heart pounding in my chest for more than one reason. There’s a moment of stillness, the air charged with our shared breaths, before Ethan’s hands find my hips, his touch igniting a trail of fire on my skin.
As he enters me from behind, a gasp escapes my lips, a sound that seems to reverberate off the walls, filling the space with the depth of my longing. His grip tightens, a silent anchor in the storm of sensations that threaten to sweep me away.
His cock stretches my walls as he pushes in. The rhythm he sets is primal.
“Ethan,” I breathe out, the word a tether that keeps me grounded.
Ethan leans in, his breath hot against the shell of my ear. “You feel incredible, Tessa,” he murmurs, each syllable a brushstroke of lust over my already fevered skin. His words are raw, unfiltered. They make me blush, yet I hunger for more, desperate to hear the depths of his desire vocalized.
“Tell me again,” I urge, my voice barely above a whisper, craving the sound of his longing as much as the touch of his hands on my body.
With a growl that sends shivers down my spine, he complies, his words painting vivid images that set my imagination ablaze. “I can’t get enough of you,” he says, his tone laced with such fierce need that it echoes in my core. “Every inch of you… made for me to touch, to taste.”
His words unravel me, and I’m lost in the sensation of being so desperately wanted. I find my own voice, hesitant at first but growing bolder with each word. “Ethan… you feel so good in me.” My response is a reflection of his own fervor, my phrases punctuating the air between gasps and moans, our conversation as intimate as the act itself.
The steady rhythm of our movements fills the space, a testament to the hunger that consumes us both. Ethan’s breaths come in hot bursts against the nape of my neck, each exhale sending another wave of desire spiraling through me. My fingers clutch at the sheets, the smooth fabric bunching beneath my desperate grasp as I rock back into him, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge.
“More,” I gasp, and Ethan complies without hesitation, his hands on my hips guiding me with a fervor that matches the urgency of my own needs.
My mind whirls with the intensity of sensation, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.
Ethan’s pace quickens, his control slipping as we spiral together towards that pinnacle of ecstasy. I feel his fingers dig into my flesh, a delicious pressure that anchors me as everything else threatens to spin out of control. His name escapes my lips in a litany, half prayer, half plea as the tension inside me coils tighter, ready to snap.
And then it does.
A shuddering climax crashes over me, waves of euphoria cascading through my body. Ethan follows, his own release overtaking him with a guttural groan that vibrates through my core. We cling to each other, bodies trembling as we ride out the aftershocks, our sweat-slicked skin pressed together in the most intimate of embraces.
In the aftermath, our ragged breaths slowly subside, and the room grows quiet but for the sound of our beating hearts.
Chapter 48
The stadium lights cast a long shadow over the emptying bleachers as I tug Tristan’s oversized jersey closer around my petite frame. The cool winter air nips at my bare hands. I bounce on my toes, trying to contain the energy bubbling inside me.
Tristan just played incredibly well and they won their game.
We go down to meet him by the locker rooms.
Beside me, Liam leans against the railing, his tousled blond hair catching the light like spun gold. His gray eyes are alight with excitement, reflective of the camaraderie that only sports can forge. He spots Tristan first, nudging Ethan, whose brown eyes are narrowed in focus.
“Here he comes,” Liam says, his voice laced with the thrill of victory.
Ethan straightens up, clapping Liam on the back as they both wear grins. Tristan is walking toward us with the confident stride of someone who knows he’s just played the game of his life. His sandy-brown hair is damp with sweat as he searches the crowd until they land on me.
“Great game, Tristan!” My voice leaps out before I can temper it.
“Thanks, Tessa.” His smile sends a jolt through me, and for a moment, it’s just us two in the floodlit afterglow of victory.
He leans down and kisses me, melding his lips with mine. His tongue tangles with mine before pulling back with a smirk.
The moment shatters as Tyler Brown slinks out from the shadows of the locker room, his smirk is as unwelcome as a rain cloud. He’s the second-string quarterback who was benched because of Tristan and his disdain for us is palpable. It manifests now in a sneer directed at me.
I can’t forget his hands on me while he tried to force his lips on mine.
“Nice jersey,” Tyler taunts, his gaze lingering a beat too long.
