instant my tongue whipped against her clit. I took every last fold and petal within my mouth and savored the part of her I wanted only to taste and touch and fuck until we collapsed.
She didn’t need teased, and I waited too long to eat her again. My lips curled over her clit, and I suckled just the way I did before, just to hear that throaty groan turn to utter panic at the rush of sensation and excitement and pleasure. Her bastard fiancé never made her feel like this. Even better, I knew her fingers couldn’t replicate this feeling when she thought of me alone in bed at night.
Leah’s head fell back. Her hips angled up. Now I knew why she was so desperate to stay out of my arms. She knew the instant I grabbed her would be the moment I never let her go. Not until she fucking melted into a puddle of spent orgasm and slid from my arms.
And even then, it just made her easier to fuck.
I liked my women exhausted. Panting. Agonized. But I never got a chance to destroy one in pleasure before. I never wanted to, never enjoyed it before Leah.
But I could watch this woman writhe all afternoon. I’d work her gasping breath and boiling core into a frenzy, and then I’d let her crumple while I wrapped her legs around her. I planned to fuck this woman delirious with her own desire.
A night of continuous pleasure.
A cock buried inside a clenching, dripping, begging pussy.
Watching as Leah came and came and came against me.
Fuck, why the hell did I work my entire life for a championship when the only goddamned thing I wanted was to give this woman the ultimate delight of my tongue flicking against her clit?
“Jack…” Her fingers ran through her hair, gripped the cement, reached for me. Nothing would ease that need in her. One orgasm or a hundred, it wouldn’t matter when the girl wanted to be fucked and fucked hard. “I’m… I’m …”
She didn’t have to say it. I felt it. The tensing of her body, the clenching of that perfect pussy over my tongue. She whispered my name, but it sounded louder in my head than when they announced me entering the stadium on game day.
Leah arched and bucked and exploded for me, on me, because of me, and nothing in my life looked more beautiful than that woman enjoying the gift I gave her.
She sunk to the cement, resting against the warmed concrete and letting her legs fall wide.
She was mine.
“Jack, God...”
Wasn’t the first time I was compared to a deity. Wouldn’t be the last either.
Enough of this bullshit. I had no contract extension. Articles were going to run labeling me some sort of sexual predator.
Fuck it.
Why not get one good thing tonight?
I hauled myself out of the pool, stopping only to gather Leah in my arms. I was soaking wet, and she murmured about her clothes, but they wouldn’t stay on her long enough to matter.
I busted through my living room, tracking water over the carpet. I’d rip it up and buy a new one, I didn’t care. Leah whispered a protest. Hell no. I wasn’t letting her cool off.
I stopped where we were, lifted her in my arms, and took another kiss—deep and hot and promising so much more than a simple orgasm delivered poolside.
Leah moaned, gripping me tight.
I was in.
I had her.
I steadied her over my couch. The TV blasted loud. The remote hid somewhere, fuck if I knew. I’d ignore it…
…But the sports channel I watched said my name.
Like a moth to the goddamned bug zapper, I was drawn to my own destruction.
“…No amount of talent is worth it. Jack Carson would be one-hundred million dollars’ worth of trouble.”
Sons of bitches. I knew the anchor—Ainsley Ruport, some silver-haired douchebag who never stepped onto a field but thought he could play quarterback better than me. I threatened a lot of reporters. Only one deserved the punch, and I was pissed I never got the chance to crush his nose in.
Leah’s tongue flicked over mine. I tried to focus on her, but the insults kept coming.
“… With the new
She didn’t need teased, and I waited too long to eat her again. My lips curled over her clit, and I suckled just the way I did before, just to hear that throaty groan turn to utter panic at the rush of sensation and excitement and pleasure. Her bastard fiancé never made her feel like this. Even better, I knew her fingers couldn’t replicate this feeling when she thought of me alone in bed at night.
Leah’s head fell back. Her hips angled up. Now I knew why she was so desperate to stay out of my arms. She knew the instant I grabbed her would be the moment I never let her go. Not until she fucking melted into a puddle of spent orgasm and slid from my arms.
And even then, it just made her easier to fuck.
I liked my women exhausted. Panting. Agonized. But I never got a chance to destroy one in pleasure before. I never wanted to, never enjoyed it before Leah.
But I could watch this woman writhe all afternoon. I’d work her gasping breath and boiling core into a frenzy, and then I’d let her crumple while I wrapped her legs around her. I planned to fuck this woman delirious with her own desire.
A night of continuous pleasure.
A cock buried inside a clenching, dripping, begging pussy.
Watching as Leah came and came and came against me.
Fuck, why the hell did I work my entire life for a championship when the only goddamned thing I wanted was to give this woman the ultimate delight of my tongue flicking against her clit?
“Jack…” Her fingers ran through her hair, gripped the cement, reached for me. Nothing would ease that need in her. One orgasm or a hundred, it wouldn’t matter when the girl wanted to be fucked and fucked hard. “I’m… I’m …”
She didn’t have to say it. I felt it. The tensing of her body, the clenching of that perfect pussy over my tongue. She whispered my name, but it sounded louder in my head than when they announced me entering the stadium on game day.
Leah arched and bucked and exploded for me, on me, because of me, and nothing in my life looked more beautiful than that woman enjoying the gift I gave her.
She sunk to the cement, resting against the warmed concrete and letting her legs fall wide.
She was mine.
“Jack, God...”
Wasn’t the first time I was compared to a deity. Wouldn’t be the last either.
Enough of this bullshit. I had no contract extension. Articles were going to run labeling me some sort of sexual predator.
Fuck it.
Why not get one good thing tonight?
I hauled myself out of the pool, stopping only to gather Leah in my arms. I was soaking wet, and she murmured about her clothes, but they wouldn’t stay on her long enough to matter.
I busted through my living room, tracking water over the carpet. I’d rip it up and buy a new one, I didn’t care. Leah whispered a protest. Hell no. I wasn’t letting her cool off.
I stopped where we were, lifted her in my arms, and took another kiss—deep and hot and promising so much more than a simple orgasm delivered poolside.
Leah moaned, gripping me tight.
I was in.
I had her.
I steadied her over my couch. The TV blasted loud. The remote hid somewhere, fuck if I knew. I’d ignore it…
…But the sports channel I watched said my name.
Like a moth to the goddamned bug zapper, I was drawn to my own destruction.
“…No amount of talent is worth it. Jack Carson would be one-hundred million dollars’ worth of trouble.”
Sons of bitches. I knew the anchor—Ainsley Ruport, some silver-haired douchebag who never stepped onto a field but thought he could play quarterback better than me. I threatened a lot of reporters. Only one deserved the punch, and I was pissed I never got the chance to crush his nose in.
Leah’s tongue flicked over mine. I tried to focus on her, but the insults kept coming.
“… With the new
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