Page 68 of Racking Up Penalties
I pull out almost completely before plunging back into her. Over and over. My lips attack hers while our tongues tangle.
When I find that sweet spot inside her that makes her clench around me, I target it relentlessly. Tessa gushes with wetness that soaks my cock and brings me right to the edge.
When she orgasms again, it’s slower, sweeter—a crescendo of emotion that has her calling out my name again.
“Fuck, I want you to come deep inside me, Liam,” she breathes, and I can feel the edges of my control fraying.
“Fuck yes,” I promise, unable to hold back any longer. I come with a groan that’s half relief, half reverence, releasing inside her in an act that feels as natural as breathing. I swear I can feel every barrier between us crumbling.
We lie there, spent and content, her soft breaths against my neck the sweetest feeling. I draw her close, our limbs tangling, the steady beat of her heart beneath my ear telling me we’re exactly where we need to be.
“Thank you,” she murmurs into the silence, her words vibrating against my skin.
“For what?” I ask.
“For being you,” she says, and it’s all the confirmation I need that this, us, is right.
“I love you, Tessa.”
She kisses me like she’s trying to consume me. “I love you too, Liam.”
I kiss the top of her head, and we drift, holding onto each other as sleep claims us both.
Chapter 31
I huff in frustration, the sound lost amidst the chaos of fabric mountains in my bedroom. Every drawer is open, a testament to my desperate search for something, anything, that screams ‘perfect girlfriend material’ without being too try-hard or too indifferent.
I reach for the first outfit, a soft cashmere sweater paired with a flirty knee-length skirt. Holding it up against me, I pivot to face the mirror, my gaze critical. The fabric is cozy and the style is undeniably chic. It’s very ‘girl-next-door meets fashion-forward.’ But will Liam’s mom see it that way? Will she appreciate the effort, or will it come across as too contrived?
“Does this scream ‘trying too hard’?” I murmur to myself.
I set the sweater down and pick up the next contender. It’s an elegant blouse coupled with tailored slacks. It’s a sophisticated combination, one that speaks of confidence and maturity. Yet, slipping into Liam’s mom’s shoes in my mind, I can’t help but wonder if it might be too formal, too stiff.
“Comfortable yet polished,” I remind myself, trying to quell the flurry of nerves. “That’s the goal.”
My fingers trail over a third option—a playful sundress adorned with a floral pattern. It’s light, breezy, the embodiment of carefree summer days. But as Thanksgiving looms, would it be whimsically out of season, or charmingly optimistic? I bite my lip, picturing the potentially raised eyebrows, the subtle once-overs.
“Too casual?” I question, though Emma’s nowhere nearby to offer her nod or shake of the head.
“Ugh!” The word is a growl as I toss another blouse onto the bed, watching it land with a defeated flop on top of a growing pile of rejects. My hands shake a little as they dive back into the closet, rifling through hangers that clink together in their crowded space, each one holding an outfit that’s not quite right.
“Hey,” Emma’s voice slices gently through my panic, her touch grounding as it lands softly on my shoulder. “Breathe, Tessa.”
I freeze, her simple command cutting through the whirlwind in my mind. It’s ridiculous, really. Clothes are my thing, but here I am, spiraling over what to wear to meet Liam’s mom for Thanksgiving.
“Take a deep breath,” she coaxes, and I draw in air, trying to pull in calm and exhale anxiety.
“Thanks, Em.” My voice is a whisper, gratitude laced with the remnants of tension. “I don’t know why I’m freaking out so much.”
“Because you care,” she says softly, her green eyes full of understanding. “And that’s okay. But you’ll be great. You always are.”
“I want her to like me.”
“Let’s just start with one deep breath, okay?” Emma’s tone is gentle, and I nod, closing my eyes and following her advice.
Inhaling deeply, the tension in my shoulders begins to unravel, a thread at a time. With each breath, the chaos of fabric and color around me fades into the background. I open my eyes, and Emma’s there, her calm demeanor as steady as a heartbeat.
“Better?” she asks, her voice a soft melody that could soothe any soul.
