by Shey Stahl
I blink at him, my heart so loud I can hear it beating in my ears. And they’re hot too, like they’re on fire. “Are you though?”
He raises one eyebrow at me, his mouth open, jaw tense. “Why even ask the question if you’re not going to believe what I say?” he mutters.
Is he fucking serious?
I think he instantly regrets saying that because he stares at me. “Sorry,” he says, reaching out for me.
I push his hand away. “Nope.”
“No?” he prods, his eyes full of fire.
“I’m saying no until you talk to me.”
He reaches out for my hand again and yanks me toward him. Our chests collide. “Can’t you just accept that I don’t want to talk tonight. I just want you.”
I glare at him because I can feel myself caving. “So you just want to fuck me instead,” I say quietly.
“Yes.” He leans in closer. “It sounds shitty, I know.”
Reluctantly, I let him pull me onto his lap and use me to forget the demons inside him. He’s not perfect, and neither am I. He might only give part of himself to me, but I’m guilty of the same. You only give the parts of yourself you’re willing to have broken.
Swallowing hard, his eyes burn into mine in the dim light. “Tell me you don’t regret this. Tell me this all means something to you.”
“While I’m surprised you even have to ask…” I take a deep breath, steadying myself. I feel like I’m smack dab in the middle of a sappy Ed Sheeran song. “…it means everything to me.”
“Good.” Like the snap of a ball in real time game action, he has me on my back in the middle of my bed. “Because I didn’t get to finish this morning and this time, I plan to.”
I let him push the T-shirt up over my bare breasts, wishing I was already naked. “Are you on the pill?” he asks quietly against my neck. No surprise, but my lips still aren’t ready to be kissed. He draws back, our stares locked together. “I don’t have any condoms on me, and I really want to go without.”
“Yeah, I’m on the pill,” I tell him, my heart swelling that he would trust me like this. The Landon I know might as well have a condom permanently on his dick because I know for a fact he’s never been bareback.
“Good,” he says with a glint of a smile, and then he frowns, his focus on my lips. “When are your lips going to heal?” Without waiting for a response, his mouth crashes to my neck, lapping at the sensitive flesh, biting and sucking. “It’s driving me fucking insane not being able to kiss you.”
With one hand behind my head, his other holds my face as his tongue assaults me with passion. I want to rip our clothes from our bodies immediately.
In theory, I want to give him everything I’ve never given another, but the independent side of me, the guarded side, wants to be careful because I know just how easily this can fall apart.
I want him to consume me completely, like the way black takes over a painting and all you see is the darkness. I want him to control me. I want all of him, deep inside, our colors bleeding together creating one image.
Then what? What happens to me then? For now, I don’t want to worry about the future or what this means. Not when I’m with him. I don’t want to put this in terms of a definition when maybe it doesn’t need one.
I want us to escape the haunting past that brought us together the night we met. I want us to be what we started out as, friends, and maybe more. My thoughts fade when I hear the clanking of Landon’s buckle, the sound of his pants being unzipped.
He devours me like a wild animal and I hold the back of his head, my hands tangling in his hair, letting the beast have his way with me. I arch my neck, unable to get enough of him. Squirming beneath him, I moan loudly.
When he shifts to his right, his hand slides inside my panties to where I’m pretty much a slip ’n slide for him. “You want it,” he murmurs against me, his harsh words filling the space between us. “Don’t you?”
I pant out a breath. “No, not at all.”
“Liar.” He slides a finger along my opening and then focuses on my clit. #imagoner
I squeeze the back of his neck, his skin hot to the touch, and I’m so ready for him, greedy for more. “Don’t tease me.”
“Tease you?” He laughs. “Yeah, like today wasn’t miserable for me. You got off earlier. I had to go all day thinking about this sweet pussy of yours.” His fingers prod along my clit ring, teasing, and then without warning, they plunge inside me. Though it’s only been hours since I felt him this way, a gasp escapes my mouth. “Fuck, Em.” He brings his lips closer to my mouth but doesn’t kiss me. “You sound so hot when you’re vulnerable for me.”
“I am vulnerable for you.” I draw in a shaking breath when his fingers slowly withdraw. “Fuck me,” I beg. “Show me how much you own me.”
A smug smile plays at his beautiful lips I’m dying to have on mine. “I plan to,” he says, pulling his shirt off.
He has a serious fucking obsession with my tits and nipple rings because he goes back to them the moment I’m bare. It’s annoying, but whatever. Because, while he’s humping the hell out of my thigh between his legs, his fingers slide back inside me. All is forgiven.
He pinches my nipple between his teeth, teasing as he slides the barbell back and forth with his tongue. Three of his fingers plunge inside me and I expand around him, every inch of my body on fire and begging for more.
“Fuck,” he growls as he removes his hand, and promptly sucks on his fingers. Yep. He did that. Sucked those fuckers like he’s licking sauce from his fingers and never breaks eye contact with me in the process.
My eyes widen. My God. He’s so fucking hot. I don’t even know how else to explain it, but the rush that rips through me at the sight is more than I can take.
“You taste amazing,” he says, his eyes wild with lust. I shouldn’t be surprised by this, but he dips his fingers inside me again, and I think he’s going to get me off but to my disappointment, he withdraws them again. “Stick your tongue out.”
“Why?”
He grabs my jaw with his other hand and then places his fingertips he just licked on my blistered lip. “Because I fucking said so,” he growls, his voice throaty and sexy, his words evidence of the power he has over me.
Naturally, since I seem to like being told what to do by him—in bed at least—I do as he says, swallowing and then sticking my tongue out.
He paints my juices on my tongue. “Taste how fucking good you are.”
I’m salty, musky, slightly sweet, and it’s not as bad as I expected. I still wouldn’t go eating pussy, but it’s not horrible.
Before I know what’s happening, he’s ripping my panties off completely and pushing his jeans down over his ass. His hard body looms over me. After kicking his clothes aside, he’s stripped me bare like he’s done to my heart.
I drop my eyes lower to where he’s completely naked. I know I’ve seen his cock before, but now that it’s illuminated by the soft glow of the candle, it’s like Thor’s hammer. You can’t look away from it. No, no. It’s the Holy Grail on display, and it’s somewhat intimidating staring at it now. I know, I know, it’s been in me already, so what’s with the nerves now, right?
It’s the goddamn candle. I need to blow it out. It’s making me crazy.
I focus on his cock for a good amount of time, but when I look up, I’m met with smugness, but if you look closely, you’ll see the vulnerability in his eyes. It’s unmistakable to me.
It’s a little bit weird, but I motion forward. “Put your cock in my mouth.”
That’s sexy, right? No. It’s not.
Landon laughs. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” And then he basically straddles my chest and chokes me with his cock. I bet from your view this looks rather awkward, right? There I am on my back and Landon’s on all fours, his cock in my mouth. It’s like a dirty game of twister, and I’m pinned.
Grasping his cock at the base, I sink my mouth around his silky-velvet steel shaft. It’s so warm and s
mooth, it’s everything I dreamed it would be. Closing my eyes, I moan and swirl my tongue along the sensitive underside before circling his head.
Shit, I could do this all day.
He lifts his right hand, the one making him millions, and tangles it in my hair. With a groan, his hips buck forward, and I take him all the way in, my lips hitting my hand still cupped around the base. I choke once, and then recover beautifully without making too much of a scene. Aside from the fact that it hurts my lips like a goddamn bitch. Blow jobs might be worse than kissing.
“If you keep doing that, I’m going to come in your mouth,” he says breathlessly, squeezing his eyes shut. “I really want to see that happen, soon, but not tonight. I need to be inside your pussy when that happens.” He pulls his cock out and stares down at me with unrestrained lust. “You ready?”
I nod. “I’ve been ready all day.”
Crawling backward, he positions himself at my entrance, and with one swift move, he pushes into me.
A gasp leaves my lips the moment he’s sheathed inside me.
A smirk paints his.
“Miss me?” he asks, he body trembling as he pushes himself in deeper.
I don’t say anything. I try and nod, find my words, but it’s too much. He’s too much.
His right hand moves to my hip again, squeezing harshly. “I fucking missed you,” he says through a gruff moan.
Oh, hell.
“Answer me, Em.” His voice is thick, teeming with hunger. “Did you miss me?”
When I don’t answer, unable to release the words, he halts his movements. I panic. With a smile, he pulls out about an inch. “I’ll stop if you don’t answer me.”
“Fuck…” I ache without him inside me. “Yes, I fucking missed you.” I push my hands against his chest. “Now knock off the games and fucking fuck me, ya fuck,” I tell him and, to my complete surprise, he bursts out laughing.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, his laughter fading, and then he’s pounding into me, driving his cock in fast and deep and oh-so relentlessly. “I don’t know what’s hotter, you telling me what to do or your use of fuck in every breath.”
“Shut. Up.”
He does, fuck me harder, eventually, and his quick pace has my tits hitting my chin and my body on fire. It’s hashtag worthy. #fuckedAF
And then he starts in with the talking again. “You look sexy with a cock inside you.” He licks his lips, his hot tongue almost touching my mouth. “I bet you look even better with one in your ass.”
I don’t answer him. I refuse to. I’m tempted to punch him. He stares down at my mouth, his eyes heavy, his lashes thick. Goddamn, he’s so fucking pretty.
His movements are uncontrolled, an action he fears greater than failure.
Thrusting and panting, we’re one. A shudder runs down my spine, slicing through me. I’ve never had this feeling. It’s not just because of the way he is with me; instead, it’s having someone so far in my head I can’t escape it. It’s like the first time I saw Jackson Pollock’s 1952 Convergence painting and spent two weeks trying to decipher the meaning. Landon evokes emotions in every part of my brain, owning my thoughts and memories.
What if it ends tomorrow? What if he decides this isn’t what he wants? And maybe it will. Maybe there’s no future for us. Maybe these stolen moments between midnight and sunrise is all we have. I’ll take it. Shamelessly, I’ll take anything I can have.
Needing more, I reach between us, for my clit. I need to get off.
“I don’t fucking think so,” he growls, grabbing my hand in his. He pins it to the mattress. He pushes forward with his hips, grunting hard with each thrust. I knew there was a side of Landon that was, shall I say, wild? No. That’s not sufficient. Manic? Yeah, something like that, but this guy relentlessly fucking me, hot goddamn. Where has this guy been all my life? Can I have him forever?
You know those moments in life when you’re experiencing something wonderful, like the day they bring pumpkin spice back at Starbucks? The moments that when they happen you think to yourself, shit, I’m never going to be the same. That’s right now.
Without warning, Landon grabs my throat, practically chokes me and growls in my ear, “You’re never to touch yourself again. I own your pussy now.” His hips drive into me harder, with expert ease because he’s the motherfucking quarterback and knows exactly how to dictate a game and play the defensive line to his advantage. “You’re going to come all over my cock without any stimulation to your clit. Do you understand me?”
I’m not all that sure he’s looking for an actual response because how can I reply? His hand is on my throat restricting my windpipe. I nod instead.
I’ll give him this. You know why I will? Because he’s unforgiving in the way he fucks, grunting hard with each thrust the closer he gets to coming. I want to bottle the sound up and listen to it forever.
“Are you holding out on me?”
“No,” I pant in his ear, adjusting my body, and then it happens; with just the slightest movement, he hits that spot deep within. You know the spot. The one they tell you exists, but you think it’s something similar to a unicorn sighting. The one most men spend their entire lives trying to find and you can’t unless you’re wrist deep trying to find it? Landon Slade, he finds it with the angle of his hips and the right pressure to each thrust. And then I’m coming on his cock like he wanted. And it’s fucking amazing.
“Landon,” I cry out, my body tightening as the heat of blissful warmth crashes over me.
My body quakes and shudders from head to toe, shaking beneath him as I pulse around his cock.
“Goddamn, you’re beautiful when you come.” Groaning, his movements speed, his cock hardens, pulses, and then he stills his hips, breathing in panting gasps.
His movements slow down, and he moves, rising up on his hands to look down at me. “I’d definitely say you missed me,” he pants, trembling.
I roll my eyes. “And here I thought your head couldn’t get any bigger.”
When he pulls out, he exhales loudly, rolling onto his back. “That’s exactly what I needed.”
I can’t help but smile.
He sighs, rolls to his side and runs his hand up my ribs. “I’m sorry about being a jerk.”
I look at him, his eyes hooded and satisfied, cheeks flushed. “You’re forgiven.”
Rolling over, I face him, the two of us still naked and I don’t mean to be graphic here, but his cum is rolling down my thighs and onto my sheets.
He blinks and his expression shifts. He looks vulnerable. “Were you with Jenna that night she met Justice?”
I heard about their fight in the locker room today. Kumonde called me a couple hours ago to warn me, but I wasn’t sure who it was about. Me or Jenna. And yeah, we both made a mistake with him. In my defense, I didn’t know about the two of them when I got together with Justice. I had no idea he’d been with Landon’s sister.
“Yeah, I was, but I didn’t know about them. I didn’t know until after I was together with Justice and he mentioned it.”
“Why were you with him?” he asks quickly.
I shrug, my eyes on his broad shoulders. They’re a work of art, finely sculpted lines of muscle. “I don’t know. I thought he was different.”
He flinches like I’ve slapped him. “And I wasn’t?”
“What do you mean?”
He shifts, drawing in a careful breath. “All this time we’ve been friends, haven’t you ever wondered what it would have been like?”
The gravity of his words sink in. Down deep in my soul, I’m curious about his meaning behind them. “With me and you?”
He nods, the air swelling between us, full of heavy breaths and underlying meaning.
“Yeah, I did all the time… and it just seemed like every time something might happen, like we might be more, you were either in the middle of the season and the timing wasn’t right, or you were with Alessa.”
He stares at me like I’m an idiot, his breath fanning acro
ss my face. “And you were with Justice,” he enunciates, and I know what he’s getting at. Reaching forward, he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “You were never mine.”
“I wasn’t with Justice, Landon. I fucked him a few times.” Swallowing over the tightness in my throat, I maintain eye contact with him and grab his hand, kissing his open palm. Landon has been with so many women, but I wondered how many of them actually loved him. And I know for a fact none of them love him like I do, the way he deserves. “And he doesn’t even compare to what I have with you.”
I mean every word.
“Tell you what,” he says, winking. “I’ll forget about Justice if you promise to only fuck me.”
I laugh. “Is that some fucked up way of asking me to be your girlfriend?”
His lips trail the shell of my ear. “Trust me, baby. You were mine before you had any say in the matter.”
I swallow, but don’t reply. There’s no sense in arguing the truth.
Leading with the head – Any hit by a defender where the first contact is with the helmet. A penalty.
With the upcoming first game of the season, I’m exceptionally on edge. Everything annoys the shit out of me.
I don’t know about you, but I only know one thing that gets me to relax.
I’m almost certain you won’t be surprised to learn I don’t get any alone time with Ember. In fact, it’s like she’s avoiding me and that’s just not acceptable.
So I follow her around the house, and when I find her carrying clothes down the hallway into Haisley’s room, I snatch her by the arm and shove her in a closet with me. Yep. In a closet. There’s like fifteen of them in this house, and most are the size of bathrooms. Works perfectly.
“It’s about time you made time for me today,” I tell her, my back against the door. She eyes me carefully, but do you notice the faint grin? No way she’s disappointed by this kidnapping.
