Pick Six

by Max Monroe

  “Mr. L losing his shit is funny as hell?” I questioned.

  “No,” Teeny denied. “But thinking about him taking it out on Sean is.”

  As if on cue, Sean came jogging up to the group, a wide smile on his face. I winced and turned, trying not to look directly at him for fear I’d give my guilt away. But looking toward the pavement didn’t take away my ability to listen. No, that sense was keen and willing, and I opened my ears to full volume.

  “Phillips!” Mr. Lancaster yelled over the din of excitement as everyone noticed who’d finally arrived.

  Teeny offered me a carrot, and I declined but asked, “Where’d you get those anyway?”

  “Gotta be prepared, mama. I keep a stash in the office fridge right near the exit. You never know, you know?”

  I laughed and discreetly turned my attention back to listening as Mr. Lancaster laid into Sean. “You know the process! We’ve done it enough in the last six goddamn months, haven’t we? Jesus Christ. It’s like starting all over again every time.”

  “I, uh, saw a…”

  “You saw a what?” Wes questioned. “It better have been a mirage of Jesus Christ himself calling you home if you open your mouth to finish that statement.”

  “No, sir,” Sean said as seriously as possible. “Not Jesus Christ.”

  I had to bite my lips, fully sucking them into my mouth, to keep from dying.

  Wes’s voice drifted out as Sean’s eyes came to mine, and despite the distance, I could see everything he had to say as clear as though I’d heard it.

  I might not have seen Jesus, but Six sure was calling out for him.

  And I had. Several times and without prompting, I’d called out to Jesus Christ to help relieve me of my orgasm.

  It wasn’t religious, but it sure was something.

  Fucking hell, I was in trouble.

  At third and twelve with two minutes in the fourth quarter, I chewed on my mouthguard and tuned myself to the subtle feel of sweat rolling down my back.

  It quieted my other senses and calmed the pounding of my heart to focus on something simple and finite, and fucking hell, the sun was strong. We’d been playing night games for the last few weeks, and the midday sun felt surprising. It was winter and relatively cold out, but the pressure of the game mixed with the pitch and swell of the overpacked Pittsburgh Stadium went a long way toward heating it up.

  I scuffed at the grass and poised my muscles as Quinn clapped his hands twice before snapping the ball.

  Hard and fast, I ran after my yard line and hit my mark, grunting as the defender got in my space from the beginning. I kept my hands to myself and focused on the ball, a perfect spiral of bliss headed for my mark courtesy of the best quarterback in the league and my best friend, Quinn Bailey.

  With sure feet and fast hands, I beat my cover to the mark and came down with the ball, tucking it tight to my chest with one arm and boxing out the coverage with the other.

  My feet were moving as soon as I hit the ground, and the howl of the wind and the crowd as I jumped over another defender and set my sights on the end zone was all the motivation I needed.

  Twenty, fifteen, ten, five, I counted down as I approached the land of salvation. It was the dream-maker, the place of rest, and an insurmountable task all in one.

  Any given game challenged you in different ways, and each play had its own set of rules.

  You didn’t get six points by magic. You had to take them.

  I took mine, crossing the sweet benchmark of the goal line under a bone-crushing tackle, but coming up able to tell the tale. My muscles ached and my flesh was bruised, but overall, I just felt alive.

  The pile of limbs of my team came down on me in a crush as the roar of the crowd went wild. We weren’t the home team, but we weren’t too far from home, and the welcome as winners at an away game was more than we deserved.

  “Fuck yeah,” Quinn congratulated, slapping me on the helmet and bringing me in for a game-style hug. Our heads met and our minds aligned, but that was all we needed from one another. We didn’t linger, and we didn’t grasp for more.

  I’d done all I needed to for him by catching that ball, and he’d done his job by putting it where I had a chance.

  Sam’s congrats came in the form of a pat and a shove, and Cam bumped me with a shoulder. We headed for the sideline, but in the end, the sideline met us.

  The crowd was a crush of familiar faces, and I pulled off my helmet in order to get a better look as every single one of the Mavericks’ fans in Pittsburgh Stadium emptied wildly onto the field.

  “Sean!” a reporter shouted, shoving a microphone in my face. “How’s the win feel today?”

  I put on my most professional hat and turned up the charm as I did the other part of my job. I’d thought originally that it began and ended on the field, but that was a naïve man’s dream.

  Professional football was more than that in so many ways, and the hours that went into the game itself were just the beginning.

  We sold our soul to the Mavericks and everything the franchise had to offer. Luckily for us, we had an owner worthier than the devil.

  “It feels great,” I mused, pushing some of the sweat off my face with a towel handed in by a sideline attendant and slipping on a hat as they took the towel back. “All of our guys really hustled to give four quarters of great football, and that’s what makes the difference in getting a team to the championship.”

  “Four quarters and a receiver like you,” she teased. I smiled, eating it up for the camera.

  “I’m just out here having the time of my life, Melissa. That’s the perk of playing for a living.”

  She smiled at that and preened, hoping I’d notice her as a woman now that our interview was done. I gave her a wink and a smile, but no more. I was a manwhore, but I wasn’t an idiot. I never fucked the press.

  Three more interviews took place before I made it to the sideline and into the tunnel to head to the locker room.

  I scoured the crowd looking for Six, knowing she’d been filming more material for one of the episodes during today’s game, but she wasn’t anywhere to be found.

  “Earning your keep,” Teeny teased as he passed me on the way to the locker room and body checked me. “Keep it up, fucker.”

  I laughed and flipped him off, teasing, “I never have a problem keeping it up.”

  A tiny throat cleared behind me, and I spun, startled.

  Six was covering her mouth and laughing, and Teeny was damn near rolling on the ground. Apparently, he’d seen her approaching.

  “I didn’t see you there,” I defended, and she rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t worry about me, Seany. I’ve seen the hard evidence.”

  Her innuendo caught me off guard, and my laugh came out choked—and turned into a snort.

  “Did you just snort?” she squealed, absolutely gleeful.

  I shook my head, but she kept at it ruthlessly.

  “Man, I wish I hadn’t sent Joe and Barry on their way. That’s pure gold.”

  I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders, secure in the fact that she could tease me all she wanted, but she didn’t, in fact, have the snort on film.

  “I have a reputation to uphold,” I told her.

  She laughed. “I heard. A reputation for keeping it up, as it were.”

  The hall quieted slightly as people found their way, and I took the opportunity to step into her space. She glanced around herself and only settled into the feeling of her body against mine when she was certain the coast was clear.

  But a tentative brush in the hall of a random away-game stadium wasn’t enough for me.

  It’d been almost a week since I’d seen her, and I wanted more. More skin, more kissing, more everything. And I wanted to do it without fear of discovery or a need to rush.

  My voice was quiet as I made the offer. “Come back to the hotel with me?”

  She smiled and shook her head, turning me down without shame. “No dice.”

 
; I paused for a moment as I pulled myself out of the rejection and turned all the disappointment into a last-ditch effort. “Are you sure?”

  She laughed.

  “Yeah,” she remarked, the cruel, cruel woman. “But you can come back to the hotel with me.”

  A play on words and a play for power, and I accepted it for what it was—an invitation to spend time exploring everything Six Malone had to offer.

  Nestled into a gloriously naked Sean’s side, I looked up from the bed and checked the time on the clock hanging above the television.

  7:05 p.m., it read.

  We’d only been inside my hotel room for all of two hours, but for the love of all that was right with the world, we’d made damn good use of our time.

  After the game, he hadn’t wasted a moment with a shower in the locker room.

  Instead, the instant we’d discreetly slipped inside my room, we’d engaged in naked, shower-related activities…together.

  Kissing. Licking. Fucking.

  By the time the hot water had run cold, I’d come more times than my pleasure-gorged brain could count. And now, clean and sated and lying naked together beneath the sheets of my hotel bed, I savored the feel of being wrapped up in his arms.

  With soft and lazy strokes, I traced imaginary swirls and circles across Sean’s bare chest with my fingertip. Once the path of my index finger slid to his belly, the muscles of his abdomen tightened and rippled.

  “Ticklish?” I questioned. “Or are you just trying to show off and flex your muscles for me?”

  He chuckled softly. “We both know I don’t need to flex, baby.”

  Point made. And I’d be a big fat fucking liar if I tried to deny the truth in his words.

  Sean Phillips had the kind of body most men would kill for, hordes of women fantasized about, and young, impressionable teenage boys prayed like hell they’d develop.

  Firm and toned in all of the right places, and delicious mocha-colored skin to boot, he ticked off all the hot guy checkboxes. And considering I hadn’t even mentioned anything about his fan-fucking-tastic cock, that said a lot.

  And, apparently, it was the kind of body that made my brain short-circuit and go back on my word. Sean Phillips started out as the one man I’d sworn off, yet here I was. Naked. In bed with him. Again.

  “Just admit it,” he whispered into my ear. “You love fucking me.”

  “Aw, is someone feeling a little insecure?” I asked and rested my chin on his chest to meet his gaze. “Do you need me to boost your already huge ego?”

  He smirked and moved his fingers to the skin of my ass. Cupping and squeezing and kneading my curves with a big, strong hand. “I’m not asking for an ego boost. I’m asking you to state the facts,” he retorted and sent a sexy little wink my way.

  “And what exactly are the facts?”

  “You. Love. Fucking. Me,” he answered.

  “And what about you?” I questioned and pinched his right nipple…hard.

  “Ow! Fuck!” He chuckled and gently swatted my hand away from his chest. “What do you mean, what about me?”

  “If I supposedly love fucking you, what are your facts in this scenario?”

  “The same as you.”

  I raised a challenging brow, and he didn’t hesitate to respond. With his hands gripping my hips, he pulled me on top of his big, strong body and adjusted me until we were nose-to-nose. “Your pussy was made to take my cock,” he whispered, and his lips just barely brushed mine. “And my cock sure as fuck doesn’t mind the feel of your pussy.”

  One kiss. Two kisses.

  “I want to keep fucking you.”

  Three kisses. Four kisses.

  “We’re both having fun, and we both know we should keep fucking until we aren’t anymore.”

  He took my mouth in a deep, heady kiss, and by the time he pulled away, his cock was hard and I throbbed between my legs. Hell, my hips were already moving against him like they had a mind of their own.

  Sean’s gaze locked with mine, and a self-satisfied smile lifted the corners of his lips. “So, yeah, those are my facts.”

  He was so fucking cocky. But good God, he backed it all up.

  A master of the female body, Sean knew all of the right places to kiss me. Touch me. Lick me. Fuck me.

  If I was being completely honest with myself, sex with him was the best sex I’d ever had in my twenty-five years of existence. Not that he needed to know that. If his ego got any bigger, it’d need its own jersey and shoulder pads just so he could play on the field.

  It was no wonder, though, that he’d earned the reputation of being Mr. Manwhore.

  It was also no wonder his playboy reputation had no effect on the supply of women ready and waiting to experience a night between the sheets with him.

  How many women are there waiting in the wings, ready to score a night with him?

  Hundreds? Thousands?

  When my brain started hitting seven-digit numbers, my chest tightened up with discomfort, and I had to force a calming breath in and out of my lungs to ease the pain.

  No matter how much I wished I could deny it, it bothered me.

  Which was ridiculous, I knew.

  We weren’t dating. We weren’t in a relationship.

  Hell, we weren’t anything besides two people who appeared to enjoy fucking each other.

  I couldn’t and wouldn’t expect Sean to be committed and monogamous, and he shouldn’t expect those things from me either.

  We were purely having fun together. Enjoying each other’s company.

  And don’t forget having a lot of O-worthy, amazing sex.

  Yeah. That too.

  “Well, those are…interesting facts,” I finally said and pushed a small smile to my lips. “Got any other facts you think I should be aware of?”

  “Hmm…” He paused and grinned down at me. “Let’s see…the very first time I laid eyes on you, I was fucking mesmerized. It was want at first sight.”

  “Yeah.” I snorted. “I do recall you telling a few of the guys how I wouldn’t be able to resist you.”

  His lips turned down into a little frown. “I was a dick.”

  “Ya think?” I questioned on a giggle. “You might as well have just whipped your penis out and come all over me.”

  He smirked. “In my defense, I was just trying to stake my claim. Also in my defense, that actually sounds pretty good right now.”

  “Your claim?” I questioned and moved my fingers across his chest to pinch his left nipple. But he was too quick, grabbing my wrist and smiling down at me victoriously.

  “I didn’t want anyone else to have you,” he added and kissed the top of my forehead. “But I’m pretty sure you got me back for being a macho asshole. More than once, actually.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I feigned innocence with a slight furrow of my brow.

  “Oh, so you don’t remember pretending to forget about me on that first day? Even acting like you didn’t know who I was when I approached you?”

  I shook my head and bit my lip to hide my smile.

  “What about the social media training?” he asked, and amusement brightened his eyes. “You don’t remember that?”

  I pretended to mull it over, but eventually, I responded with, “Nope. I don’t remember any of that.”

  He pinched my ass.

  “Ow! Shit!” I squealed and squirmed, but he just smirked down at me.

  “That’s what liars get,” he said, and his voice was all raspy and sexy. “Do you know what happens when liars keep lying?”

  “What?”

  “Those pinches turn to spankings, and if the lies keep flowing, little liars get fucked…hard.”

  Well, hot damn, who needed the truth? Sure as fuck not me.

  “You dirty little girl,” he whispered. “You’re tempted to keep poking the bear with lies until he breaks and fucks your brains out.”

  “I am not.”

  “Yeah, you are,” he said through
a soft, knowing chuckle. “It’s written all over your pretty face.”

  “Well, next time, maybe don’t make your threats sound so appealing.” I waggled my eyebrows, and he grinned before pressing a soft kiss to my nose.

  “So…what about you?” he asked. “Do you have any interesting facts to tell me?”

  “Not really.” I shrugged. “I mean, that first day I came to the stadium to meet the team, I had an impromptu meet-and-greet with most of the team’s dicks first.” I shrugged again. “But other than that, no, nothing too interesting.”

  “I’m sorry…what?” His brow furrowed in confusion once he processed my words. “You met the team’s dicks…?”

  “It was all very informal, but yeah.” I nodded and bit my lip to hide my laughter. “Ironically, I actually met your cock before I met you.”

  “You do realize how fucking crazy this sounds, right?” A shocked laugh bubbled up from his lungs. “How about a little context?”

  “Before I tell you, you have to promise not to tell a single soul.”

  He nodded. “You have my word.”

  “Well…that first day…when I met the team…I kind of accidentally walked into the back entrance of the locker room instead of going to the auditorium.”

  “Seriously?”

  I nodded. “Seriously.”

  “Did anyone see you?”

  “No, thank God.”

  “Wait…so you mean to tell me you were just peeping in our locker room, staring at everyone’s dick?”

  “It was an accident!” I exclaimed, and his smile grew wide and amused. “And I didn’t see everyone’s dick. Just a few. Mostly yours.”

  “You were staring at my cock?” he questioned. “You really are a dirty little girl,” he said and punctuated that statement by grinding that glorious hard shaft of his against me. “A sexy little voyeur… Fuck, that turns me on.”

  I giggled at his words, but those giggles quickly turned to moans when the head of his cock kept sliding across where I was already wet and aroused. He did it over and over again until I throbbed and ached and my hips urged him to push inside of me.

  “I need inside of you again, baby,” he whispered against my mouth. “Let me feel that tight little cunt wrapped around my cock.”