Page 80 of The Love of My Next Life
God, they cannot know what’s happening in here.
I push my waist against the wooden counter and try to straighten my skirt, but my hands are halted by Macon’s as he shoves his body between my legs, wedging himself underneath the overhanging countertop.
His lips close back over my clit, just as the girls stop in front of the concession stand. I gasp and dig my fingers into the counter so hard I almost break a nail, and the girls eye me with concern.
“Hey, Lennon, are you okay?” Alana asks, and all I can do is nod and force out anmmhmm.
“You sure?” Sarah chimes in. “You’re all red and kinda sweaty.”
I feel, rather than hear, Macon laugh, and I use more strength than I have available to jut my knee out. It hits hard muscle, and he lets out a satisfying grunt at the contact. I want to laugh, but he sucks hard on my clit, and I have to bite back a cry instead. The girls glance at the countertop, as if trying to see through it.
“I’m fine,” I say with a forced smile.
“Okaaaaay,” Sarah says, dragging her eyes from the countertop to my face. “Well, can we get two bottles of water and two caramel candy bars?”
The candy bars are within reach, so I grab two and toss them on the counter. Macon swirls his tongue faster around my clit and slips his finger back inside me and I swallow a moan. The drink case is behind me on the far wall. There’s no way I can walk to it right now. The way Macon tightens his hold on my thigh tells me he wouldn’t let me even if I wanted to.
“No water,” I gasp out, and the girls gape at me.
“It’s right there,” Sarah argues, pointing to the drink case.
I shake my head and clamp my eyes shut. More pulsing of his fingers. More flicking of his tongue. A graze of teeth. A vibrating hum. The pressure at my core builds rapidly, threatening to explode, and all I want to do is move on him. I want to force my fingers into his curls and pull, but I can’t with Alana and Sarah staring at me like I’m a creepy science experiment.
“It’s warm,” I tell her. “Broken. Probably contaminated.”
“Oh, gross.”
I nod but can’t bring myself to pry my eyes back open.
“Just take the candy,” I say. “On the house. For the inconvenience. No water.”
Macon slides in a second finger and my body lurches forward as he does something new to my clit with his tongue. My eyes fly open just as the girls jump backward.
“Leave now,” I beg. My voice is a rasped cry. “Please,” I say again, and they start walking backward.
“Sure,” Alana says, “uh, feel better?”
The cheering from the stands gets louder, thankfully, and the girls turn around quickly to hustle back to their seats. Macon’s tongue swirls around me then flicks at the sensitive bud of nerves between my legs.
“Oh fuck,” I groan. He uses the hand not thrusting inside of me to grip my ass and move my hips in a slow pulse. I follow his lead, finally moving on him the way I wanted. I barely register the buzz from the bleachers, the mounting excitement from the crowd. I speed up and so does Macon, thrusting and swirling as I drag my swollen core back and forth over his wicked mouth.
“I’m going to come,” I say, and I feel him hum. “Oh, god, Macon. I’m gonna... I’m gonna...”
My voice cuts off with a choked cry, my body bowing forward until my top half is lying on the counter and my thighs are clamped tightly around Macon’s head. Blue flames dance in and out of my vision as my climax roars through my body. Goosebumps rise on my skin as sweat dots the back of my neck.
I hear Macon chuckle, feel him press a kiss to my inner thigh. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth and wait for the fuzziness to clear from my limbs.
The blood whooshing through my ears makes it hard to notice the sound of the crowd at first. The announcer shouts something through the loudspeaker, something that sounds like Eric Masters, and I push myself off the concession stand counter to look toward the field.
Everyone in the home section of the bleachers is on their feet, jumping and waving and cheering. There’s a commotion on the field, a huddle of players, someone lifted on shoulders. I blink a few times.
We must have won.
Then I watch as the player on the team’s shoulders is put back on the ground and starts to run toward me.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I groan when I can read the number on Eric’s jersey. I don’t even have time to kick Macon out. I just tug my skirt down over my ass and stand up straight, plastering a smile on my face just as Eric skids to a halt in front of the concession stand.
“We won,” he shouts, reaching over the counter and planting a kiss right on my lips. I freeze, but he doesn’t notice. He pulls back, his dimples competing for attention with his bright white teeth. “Did you see? I just made a seventy-yard touchdown. There are scouts here,” he says quickly through pants.
