Game Changer: #UofJ Book 2- A Second Chance Romantic Comedy Sports Romance (U of J)

by Alley Ciz

  Someone sign this man up for an underwear endorsement. He is H-O-T, hot, hot, hot, my inner cheerleader declares.

  He doesn’t give me long to appreciate his hotness before his mouth is attacking mine again. He sucks on my bottom lip, the bite of his teeth making me weak in the knees in a way that would have me melting into a puddle on the floor if I were standing.

  Speaking of puddles, my bladder chooses this moment to remind me of all the beer I consumed playing flip cup.

  What a clam jam. My inner cheerleader isn’t the only one pouting as my head thunks against the wall in frustration.

  “What’s wrong, babe?” Mase asks, one of his dimples peeking out.

  “I have to pee.” I cringe as I say the words. Talk about breaking boundaries.

  His other dimple makes an appearance, clearly entertained by my admission. The frosty look I give him has zero effect as he sets me on my feet, the smack on my ass when I turn for the bathroom only proving this further. Even through the thick wood of the door, I can hear his deep rumbling laughter after I slam it in his face to take care of business.

  My eyes rise from where I’m washing my hands to meet passion-dilated ones in the mirror. I’m not sure if I should be disturbed or not that my boyfriend was obviously listening to me pee outside the door, but I can’t find it in me to care as he stalks in my direction.

  His body blankets mine, bending me over the counter as his tattooed arm reaches to twist the tap, cutting off the running water.

  “What are you doing?” I watch as his hand presses to my stomach, the warm olive tone of his skin all the more striking against the harsh white of my shirt.

  “You were taking too long.” He grinds his hard-on into the upturned curve of my ass.

  I roll my eyes. “I’ve been in here for literally one minute.”

  He ignores my logic and uses his free hand to push my hair to the side then drags his lips over the exposed skin, starting at the soft spot behind my ear and traveling down my neck to bite the juncture where it meets my shoulder. A moan slips past my lips as he licks away the sting.

  I’m transfixed by our reflection as he continues his trail of kisses. His fingers hook under the straps of my tank and bra and slowly, teasingly lower them until they are stopped by the bend of my elbows braced on the counter.

  Breathing becomes difficult under the weight of my lust as his hand trails a path from my throat, down my sternum, and disappears below the neckline of my shirt. Without the resistance of the straps, both articles of clothing fall away and my breasts are exposed, my nipples beading against the chilly air.

  With a rumble in the back of his throat, Mase latches onto my neck again, this time hard enough that I know it will leave a mark.

  Arms crossing at the wrists, he fills each of his large hands with the opposite breast, the pink of my nipples visible between his fingers as he pinches and twists them. My already soaked panties flood more, and the counter in front of me becomes my sole support.

  “God, Kay.” I push onto my toes, oscillating my hips, each squeeze and pluck on my breasts a direct line to my clit.

  “Mase.” His name falls from my mouth like a broken cry.

  “I need you.” Stubble pricks along the sensitive skin of my back with his kisses.

  I crane my neck around, searching, seeking, until I capture his lips with mine. My doubts when it comes to us never stemmed from the physical. Here, we excel. Nothing else can get between us here. It’s just me and him.

  “Take me.” I speak against his mouth, our lips brushing with each desperate word.

  Permission granted, a hand presses between my shoulder blades, bending me fully over the counter, the tips of my toes barely maintaining contact with the floor beneath them.

  Deft fingers undo the button on my jeans and the hiss from the zipper echoes in the acoustics of the bathroom. Cool air hits my overheated skin as he peels my jeans over my ass and down my legs until the tops of my boots prevent them from going below mid-thigh.

  In the mirror, I see his eyes flare and his Adam’s apple bob with a swallow as he takes in the sight of my propped-up ass bisected by the flimsy piece of white lace that is my thong. Thank you cheerleading conditioning and your countless squats.

  With one last squeeze, his left hand releases my right breast to travel down the length of my body, my stomach contracting with a sharp inhalation at the feel of his calloused fingers. Pleasure sparks with the abrasion of the lace of my thong when he traces the outline of my pussy lips through the material.

  “You’re soaked, baby.” Mase groans, his fingers pushing into my slit with my underwear.

  Tingles, shivers…each sensation almost painful in its intensity.

  I have no words, my brain consumed by the pleasure he is bringing to my body.

  His hand cups my butt cheek, squeezing and lifting, letting it go to watch it bounce. His finger slips under the strip between my cheeks, traveling from the waistband down to where it disappears. On his trip back up, he gives a tug, pulling the front triangle tighter against my clit, and a whimper escapes my mouth.

  “Mase—don’t—tease me.” It’s a struggle to get my words out.

  His eyes flash to mine in the mirror. Using both hands, he slowly and—dammit—teasingly rolls my thong over the curve of my ass, the material releasing from my aching center with a pop it’s so wet, down my legs to rest on top of my jeans.

  Then his tattooed arm hooks back around my body, the black tribal ink and olive skin a stark contrast to my pale milky complexion, anchoring himself once again with his hand possessing my right tit, and without warning, he thrusts two fingers inside me. I cry out from the intrusion, not in pain—I’m far too wet for that—but from the unexpected pleasure. I’m two seconds away from coming, and he’s barely started.

  His fingers curve in that way that finds the sweet spot inside me and I’m coming, all over his hand, my cries of pleasure bouncing back to me off the walls.

  He continues to work me over until I’m coming a second time. My body might be ready for an orgasm coma, but Mase is clearly just beginning if the way he’s undoing his own jeans is any indication. When his hands release me to undo his pants, my body sags against the counter, the hard granite digging into my belly.

  His firm length nestles in the cleft of my ass then he’s pushing it through my wetness, coating himself with my juices.

  He lines himself up with my entrance but doesn’t push farther. “Watch,” he commands, his breath brushing the shell of my ear, waiting for me to lift my head from where it’s resting on my fisted hands.

  Once my dazed eyes lock onto his blazing green ones in the mirror, he grips my hips, and in one powerful thrust—the possibility of which a true testament to how wet I really am—he seats himself inside me to the hilt, his balls pressing against my thighs, each of us groaning in unison.

  We both still for a moment as he lets my body adjust to his size. Once he’s sure I’m ready, he starts to piston in and out, and I send a silent prayer of thanks to the inventor of the birth control pill for allowing me to experience each drive without the barrier of latex.

  Mase snakes his left arm between my bent elbows to find purchase on my chest once again, his right looping around my hip to press on my clit. He’s over me, covering as much of me as physically possible in this position, and the simultaneous attack on my major erogenous zones is almost more than my body can handle.

  “Watch, baby.” His command comes after my eyes start to drift closed again. “Watch me take you. See how good we are together.”

  His words have as much of an effect on my body as his touch.

  “I love fucking you this way. The way your ass presses against me and the way your back arches is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” His words are more growl than speech. “But as much as I like it, I don’t get to see your beautiful face when you lose it.”

  His fingers stretch up to graze the underside of my jaw, the affectionate move a contradiction to the ani
malistic way he’s claiming me.

  “Now I’m kicking myself for not thinking about fucking you in front of a mirror sooner. Best of both worlds, baby.”

  Another orgasm rips through me as he continues to play me with both his body and his words. After our time apart, I’m not sure how much more I’ll be able to take before actually passing out from pleasure.

  “And, god, the way you look in your reflection, your mouthwatering tits squeezed together resting on the counter, as if served up on a platter for me, your arms pinned by your top while you’re bent over for me to take…hottest. Thing. Ever.” He punctuates the last three words by pulling out to the tip and slamming back home each time.

  “Mase…I can’t.” I struggle to put together a sentence under the onslaught of pleasure.

  “I know, baby.” He places a kiss to the side of my neck, leaving his mouth there as he speaks, the words rumbling through me. “Let go for me one more time. I’ve got you.”

  The stimulation on my clit is almost too much to take, but the countertop is keeping his hand trapped against it, his nimble fingers continue their teasing pattern. There’s no way to stop what’s coming, and honestly I’m not sure I want to.

  “Come on, baby. Let go. Come all over my cock. I’ve got you.”

  His words serve as the catalyst for the biggest, most epic orgasm of my life. I feel him release inside me and we ride out our pleasure together.

  He’s careful to brace himself with his elbows on the counter to keep from crushing me as we catch our breath.

  Able to read how absolutely wrecked I am, he scoops me up into his arms and carries me to the king-sized bed in the middle of our room.

  In my daze, I’m mildly aware of him removing my boots and stripping my clothes the rest of the way off my body before doing the same with his own. He lifts me like I weigh no more than a feather and arranges us in the center of the mattress, pulling the covers around us and spooning his body around mine.

  His whispered “I love you” is the last thing I’m conscious of before sleep claims me.

  #Chapter35

  TheQueenB: Look @UofJ411 at what it couple from @TheUofJ I spot canoodling in the background. #IHaveTheScoop #CasanovaWatch #CasanovasGirl

  *screenshot of a picture of a UK basketball player and his girlfriend with the image of Kay wrapped in Mason’s arms circled in the background*

  UofJ411: Thanks for the update @TheQueenB #WeHaveEyesEverywhere #CasanovaWatch #CasanovasGirl

  *REPOSTED—screenshot of a picture of a UK basketball player and his girlfriend with the image of Kay wrapped in Mason’s arms circled in the background—TheQueenB: Look @UofJ411 at what it couple from @TheUofJ I spot canoodling in the background. #IHaveTheScoop #CasanovaWatch #CasanovasGirl*

  TightestEndParker85: Yeah this won’t last @CasaNova87 #TakingBets #OverUnder #YouShouldCutYourLosses

  *REPOSTED—screenshot of a picture of a UK basketball player and his girlfriend with the image of Kay wrapped in Mason’s arms circled in the background—TheQueenB: Look @UofJ411 at what it couple from @TheUofJ I spot canoodling in the background. #IHaveTheScoop #CasanovaWatch #CasanovasGirl*

  UofJ411: Oh shit! You’re not going to let this slide, right @CasaNova87? #DefendHerHonor #CasanovaWatch #CasanovasGirl

  *screenshot of post by @TightestEndParker85: Yeah this won’t last @CasaNova87 #TakingBets #OverUnder #YouShouldCutYourLosses*

  #Chapter36

  Waking up with a naked Kay in my arms is hands down my favorite way to start the day. After spending the last couple of weeks afraid I would never get to experience this again, I allow myself a few more minutes to properly appreciate it.

  My big spoon is wrapped tightly around her little one, my body doing its best to figure out the math on how to get the entirety of its six-five frame to be touched by her four-eleven one. The length of Kay’s body is suctioned to mine from neck to knee, the plump curve of her ass cradled against my groin in the matching bend of our hips.

  The scent of peppermint wafts from the riot of curls spread over my arm, my shoulder pillowing her head, my arms banded around her, refusing to let her go even in sleep.

  “Mase,” she says on a sigh. I don’t know what’s sexier, the gravelly, sleep-roughened sound of her voice or that she’s back to calling me Mase.

  “Morning, baby.” I nuzzle into the back of her neck, nosing her hair out of the way for a trail of kisses. My muscles tense and stretch around her, the leg snaked between hers hooking around her ankle and pulling her closer.

  “I’m not having sex with you,” she mumbles into her pillow.

  A chuckle breaks free at how grumpy she sounds. Oh, my little anti-morning person. It doesn’t surprise me that morning sex isn’t at the top of her list of favorite things, but I’m confident I can bring her around to my way of thinking.

  “What if I do all the work?” I drag my teeth down the shell of her ear, grinning at how she squirms against me in response.

  “I’m too sore.”

  I shouldn’t smile, but I can’t help it. It’s common for Kay to be sore after sex given that I’m double her size, but if she’s calling a timeout on the sexy times, it means it’s much more than normal. We were rather enthusiastic last night—all three times.

  Look at you finally living up to your MVP status. Good job, Nova. You earned a water break. Looks like my inner coach is feeling cheeky after last night as well.

  “So you’re saying you’re going to be walking funny today?” I nip at her bare shoulder. The idea of there being a visual representation of how she was owned by me, how she’s mine, is one hell of an ego boost.

  “You’re such a caveman.” I swear I can hear her roll her eyes, and I love it.

  “You love me anyway.” I knead the breast my hand is cupped around, thumbing her nipple until it’s pebbled against my palm.

  “Will you stop that?” She tries to wiggle away, but my hold on her is resolute and causes her to huff in frustration. “It’s halftime for my vagina. Go entertain your dick in the shower if it can’t wait until tonight.”

  My girlfriend, ladies and gentlemen—always so full of snark for me. She’s damn lucky I love her.

  You’re so full of shit. Weren’t you the one trying to convince me that it’s because she’s different and doesn’t fawn over you like the jersey chasers?

  I hate when my inner coach is right.

  With one last kiss on her head, I roll away and climb out of bed—by myself.

  I’m reaching for my phone on the nightstand when Kay’s lights up with a text next to it, and the contact coming up as UNKNOWN has me pausing to take a closer look.

  UNKNOWN: It really is a shame you deleted all your social media accounts, because if you look hard enough, you can find pretty much ANYONE on there. Did you know your Casanova and his quarterback bestie used to date the SAME chick in high school? Oh the stories she could probably tell me…

  Who the fuck is texting her? Better yet, why do they give a shit about Chrissy? Other than her playing my best friend and me, there’s not a story there to tell.

  Is it…

  Could it be…

  Is Liam Parker texting her? Wouldn’t she have his number blocked?

  Rage slams into me at the possibility. The urge to wake her up and demand answers is strong, and I’ve already taken a step toward the bed before I stop myself. Getting all up in Kay’s face about this without thinking it through could have an adverse effect on everything we accomplished last night.

  The last thing I need is for Kay to revert back to the whole I’m not good for you bullshit she tried to spout. I just got her back; no way in hell am I going to let anything try to take her away from me again.

  You’re gonna need help for this play.

  My inner coach is right—again. I quickly type out a text to JT, giving him our hotel and room information and asking him to come.

  I was really hoping to have Kay to myself without any drama. So much for that.

  After toweling
off, I pull the only non-U of J apparel I packed—a white long-sleeved Henley and black joggers—not trusting myself to resist crawling back into bed and trying to convince Kay to call an end to her halftime if I walk out in only a towel. A man’s self-restraint can only take so much, and keeping away from a naked Kay is a test I’ll fail every time.

  Sure enough, she’s in the same position I left her in, the colors peeking out from her blonde hair against the white bedding. I stand at the foot of the bed, marveling at how damn tiny she really is lost in a sea of bedding on the king-sized mattress. It amazes me that she chooses to be with such a brute of a man like me. There have been times I’ve been afraid to crush her, but it’s like there’s an instinct inside my DNA that prevents that.

  A quick check of the time tells me JT is going to be here shortly. Risking bodily harm—an acute possibility with Kay—I move to play alarm clock, brushing hair off her face and kissing her temple. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Time to wake up.”

  A disgruntled harrumph greets me as I avoid the arm swung back to bat me away. So adorable.

  “Though your aversion to mornings is cute…” Safe from rogue limbs, I lean back over and place a string of kisses across her cheek. “I need you to get up and put some clothes on.”

  “Since when do you try to get me to put clothes on?” she mumbles.

  “Baby…” Man, what I wouldn’t give to be able to explore her naked body right now. “If your best friend wasn’t on his way over, I wouldn’t care if you stayed naked. In fact, I would insist.”

  “JT’s coming here?” She finally rolls to her back, twisting to face me, hands balled to rub the sleep from her eyes.

  “Yes.” I search the floor for last night’s discarded shirt, scooping it up when I find it and tossing it in her direction at the same time there’s a knock on the door.