“And I live a similar life?” Fuck. I get it now. “I travel constantly. I’m around coaches, players, WAGs, and celebrities all the time.” She makes a noise of distress, and I hold her tighter. “I’m not him. I’m 39 fucking years old, Jenna, I’m not some boy at the start of his career.”
“I know, but I’m scared.” Her voice has never sounded so small before. Confidence gone, she’s bared her soul to me as well as her scars.
“Why?”
“Because…because it’s electric when I’m near you. Like your very presence charges every atom in my body. It isn’t just sex, stupendous sex, it’s so much more with you. And that’s dangerous. I survived him, in fact I thrived without him weighing me down. I love my life. I’m genuinely happy. And if you…if I let you in and you leave me—”
“Prickly.” Rolling us over, I hover above her and cover her mouth with mine. I find her hot, wet center and surge inside, swallowing her cries and demanding more. I want everything from her. Her legs cradle me as I rut inside her. I can’t get deep enough. Close enough. Tears fall from her closed eyes, and I lick up every one. She clings to me as she cries silently, holding on asI slam in to the hilt. “Look at me,” I demand, but she shakes her head and denies me. “Jenna. Look. At. Me.”
Reluctantly she opens her eyes and my rhythm falters. The force of her gaze hits me in the solar plexus, stealing my breath. How can she ever believe she’s not enough? That she isn’t a priceless treasure to be worshipped every day of forever?
“You’re like an itch beneath my skin,” I tell her, sitting up on my knees, lifting her legs straight up and pushing them together. I press forward, bending her in half, her pussy infinitesimally tighter the further I go. She’s agile, and limber, and her body is an amusement park I want a lifetime membership to explore. “I scratch it, and it feels so good, but it intensifies until I’m consumed with it. You’ve invaded every part of me, my life, my heart, my soul.”
“Andres.” Her body trembles beneath me, her orgasm barreling toward the edge and it’s too much for her. I don’t withdraw, I don’t back off. I want her to feel the full force of what we are together.
“I feel like…my life has all been practice. You danced down that hallway and the biggest game of my life finally began.” I press my thumb to her clit and rub it fast and hard. Her pussy spasms, clamping down on my cock. She bucks wildly, her head rolling back and forth, her body bright red and fucking devastatingly exquisite. My cock jerks, my balls twitch. I groan as I start to empty inside her. With a snarl, I spread her legs and lean down until my nose is barely touching hers, her wet eyes ensnared by my fierce gaze. “I play to win. I don’t lose, Jenna.”
Jenna 8.
I must be fucking stupid or crazy or…or…on the verge of love. I am so pissed at Andres right now and myself. He tricked me! Dicknotized me and convinced me and my traitorous pussy to date him. I’m not so cum drunk I’m willing to date in public, but I’m apparently intoxicated enough with him to see where this goes in private. He’d like to announce to the world that I’m his girlfriend and a part of me finds that endlessly adorable and endearing and I want to smack myself and then him.
Obviously, I’m conflicted.
I was adamant after he showed up at my place Sunday, that I will not be in the limelight. He’s retired and a scout, so it’s not like he’s a current player on his way to the Super Bowl, but Andres Abbott isn’t a man you forget. And the tabloids and papers still keep tabs on him, especially given his food company and philanthropic nature. I don’t want to be picked apart by the masses. I don’t want to be compared to previous women he’s dated. I just want to date Andres and get to know the man, not the legend, and see where life takes us.
Honestly, I think he agreed because of what happened to Phia. So many things in life can be good for us in moderation. Football isn’t the exception. People have made it a part of their identity, the lynch pin for their supposed happiness and invested too much time, money, and mental real estate to what is essentially agame. It’s supposed to be fun. It is not supposed to showcase the greed and arrogance humans are capable of, nor the homicidal tendencies.
People are ugly. We are. Animals with opposable thumbs. Many of us manage to remain civil and display the ability to engage in thinking higher than our basest instincts.
And some people are named Fred Heacock.
Andres fucked me to within an inch of my life before he drove back to Pittsburgh on Monday and wouldn’t let me cum until I promised to drive down this weekend to visit him. He wants me in his home, in his city, in his bed and the illogical part of me is damn happy to be there. It’s a bye week, so there’s no game and I’m looking forward to getting away from the university for a bit. And a large part of me, mostly my heart and vag, want to be in his space, surrounded by him, overwhelmed by the man that is larger than life in so many ways.
Ugh.
Following the GPS, I turn into his neighborhood in Fox Chapel and my jaw drops to my lap. Expansive doesn’t begin to describe the homes I pass. This is a level of wealth I am not familiar with. My tummy churns in trepidation. Andres Abbott fucks like a God, but he is way out of my league. If I wasn’t good enough to eat with players and coaches, I’m definitely not cut out to schmooze with the types of people who own these monstrosities.
Fuck.
I gulp, pulling up his long driveway. A long and full tree line blocks the view of his home until I’m about halfway up. “Holy shit.” I’ll admit, Andres’ house isn’t nearly as ostentatious as the others, but it’s still pretty fucking big. Everything about that man is supersized. Light brick, old style terracotta roof, front yard big enough to host a football game, and a 6-car garage attachedat the far side of the house. It’s beautiful. The yard impeccably maintained.
I don’t belong here. I take a deep centering breath that does nothing to quell my nerves and step out of my car. I’ll hang out for a while, he’ll see I’m not fit for this type of lifestyle and then I’ll drive the 5 hours back to my cozy little home and bury myself under gobs of blankets and cry.
I pop open the back of my SUV to retrieve my bag. I don’t know why, I’m not going to be here long enough to need them. As I step around the back of my car, I’m instantly swept up into a bear hug, lips sucking on the tender skin of my throat. His spicy masculine scent fills my lungs and my body relaxes marginally.
“Prickles. I’m so fucking happy you’re here.” I hum, carding my fingers through his hair, reveling in the warmth of his embrace. “Come on.” Without putting me down, he shifts me to his hip, grabs my suitcase out of the open trunk and shuts it. He does it all effortlessly. I run my hands over his broad rounded shoulders, down his defined biceps, and shamelessly rub my pussy against his hip while I pepper his face with kisses.
It's been 4 days since we’ve seen each other but it feels like weeks. I’m suddenly starving for this man and I don’t want to wait to have him. If I’m going to be kicked out, better get to the goods first.
Inside his surprisingly welcoming foyer, I barely notice the staircase behind me, or the living room to one side and the office to the other. Instead, I focus on the swelling in his lounge pants. He puts me down, intending to kiss me, but I dodge his lips and drop to my knees. The elastic band is easy to drag down, his cock springing free, a little wet at the tip. I lick my lips, then open wide and swallow him to the back of my throat without preamble.
“Jesus!” he groans, his hand lifting his shirt out of the way for a better view. I feel his tight grip in my hair at the back of my head. I slobber down the length, pull back and use my hand to stroke him as I look up at him. He’s wrecked, tortured, and so handsome. His blue eyes dark, cheeks flushed slightly, chest heaving beneath his t-shirt. “Jenna? What are you—”
“Feed me your cock. I’m hungry.”
“Motherfucker!” I chuckle as I part my lips once again and wait for him to thrust forward. When he does, his groan of pleasure is so erotic, my pussy gushes in response. Answering a mating call. I relax my throat and encourage him with impatient noises and my hands on his tight ass to fuck my throat. “God, Jen! You’re incredible! Fuck. Yes! So good. Take it all.”
I feel his cock throb and swell. I release him, stroking him with my hand and lifting his shaft up so I can lick his balls. They’re so firm, ready to explode. I love how they roll over my tongue, heavy, pulling taut in preparation. When I know he’s on the verge, I pull his cock down and into my mouth. Two rough thrusts and he cums down my throat, dribbling on my tongue as he sags over me on the floor. His labored breathing fills the empty space and then a low chuckle. I arch my neck to look up at him and find him staring at me in wonder. One hand cups my cheek, his thumb running over my cheekbone, wiping away the tears that leaked while I deep-throated him.
