“Fuck, fuck—” My hand fists the sheets, my other tangling in her hair as she bobs slowly, teasing, her tongue swirling along my thick length.
I glance down, and the sight of her ruins me for anyone else. Her, in my jersey with her lips wrapped around my cock, looking smug as hell.
I’m gone for her. Correction, I’ve been gone for her.
“You’re unreal,” I choke out, voice breaking. “God, Amelia, you’re so fucking perfect.”
She pulls back just long enough to whisper, as her lips glisten with my precum, “Good luck tomorrow, quarterback.” Then she sinks down again, deeper, and my hips jerk helplessly.
“Oh my God—fuck—Amelia, baby, please—don’t stop, don’t ever stop?—”
I’m begging, and I don’tgive a flying fuck.
Her mouth slides down my cock again, and I swear I’m losing my mind. My hand fists the sheets, as my other hand tangles in her hair, careful not to force, even though every instinct in me is screaming to.
“Jesus Christ, Amelia,” I groan, hips jerking. “Your mouth, fuck, it feels unreal.”
She pulls back just enough to wrap her hand around my cock, stroking slowly, her lips glistening. Her eyes cut up at me. “You like this, quarterback? Watching me on my knees for you?”
My chest heaves, a wrecked laugh escaping. “Like it? Baby, I’m fucking obsessed. You gonna swallow my cum, huh? Take every drop for me?”
Her smirk sharpens as her tongue flicks across the head of my cock, teasing. “Only if you beg.”
“Fuck,” I groan, my head tipping back, hips twitching against her hand. “Please, Amelia. Please, baby, swallow me for me.”
She laughs low in her throat, then sinks back down, taking me deeper, her throat flexing around me. My eyes roll back as a hoarse groan tears out of me.
“That’s it,” I pant, gripping the sheets tighter. “God, you look so good with my cock in your mouth. You’re killing me, dollface. Don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking stop.”
She pulls off again, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes blazing. “You’re so desperate for me, baby.”
“Yeah, I am desperate for you, have been since I first saw you. ” I rasp, my chest heaving. “ Please, fuck, make me cum, Amelia.”
Her lips curl into a wicked smile before she swallows me down again, her tongue working me mercilessly. I can’t hold it back anymore as my orgasm slams through me, brutal, my cock jerking as I spill into her mouth. My groanis guttural, broken, as I watch her swallow it, her throat working, her eyes locked on mine.
When she pulls back, she licks her lips. “Good luck, again, quarterback.”
I collapse against the pillows, completely wrecked, grinning like an idiot even through the sweat dripping down my temple. “Baby,” I pant, still catching my breath, “if you keep doing shit like that, I’ll retire tomorrow.”
amelia
. . .
Turf and popcorn mingle with the faint bite of autumn air, the low rumble of thousands of voices building into a wall of sound that vibrates through my chest. I stand just behind the sideline, close enough to see the strain in Maverick’s shoulders as he paces.
He’s in full uniform, jersey clinging to him, pads broadening his already massive frame. His golden hair sticks out in damp strands from under the helmet, and he keeps flexing his hands like he’s trying to shake something off.
Coach Mike’s voice is sharp and clipped through the headset wired into Maverick’s helmet. I can hear it faintly from where I’m standing: play calls, reminders, and the constant pressure that’s put on Maverick to perform, and it makes me angry.
My eyes lock on Maverick. He’s nodding at whatever his coach says, but I know him well enough to see it—he’s wound tight, electricity coiled under his skin.
I walk over to Coach Mike and quietly tap his shoulder. He turns around with a pinched brow.
“Can I?” My voice is steady, but my pulseisn’t.
He blinks at me, then hands it over without a word.
I throw the earpiece over my ears as I settle it on, and I lift the mic to my lips, my heart pounding, “Hey, quarterback.”
