Her hand moves between our bodies before taking control of my cock. She lifts her knees up higher, spreading herself even wider before she guides my dick against her heat. Instantly, her pussy greedily drags the tip in, and she feels so much like home that I thrust my hips lightly, pushing myself deeper.
She moves her hand, and then both of her palms slap against my back, and her nails scrape my flesh. As my hips work faster, each time thrusting another inch or two into her heat, her feet hook around me.
When I thrust all in, giving her every fucking inch until I bottom out, she cries out, and instantly, my movements stop.
“That’s a bad fucking girl, being loud like that,” I warn her, feeling her pussy grow wetter around my dick from being scolded, telling me what I already know—she loves this. “Looks like I’m going to have to fuck you with my hand over your mouth. Huh?”
I don’t let her answer or moan again. Instead, I just slap my hand over her lips and start plowing into her over and over. The bed creaks, but I don’t give a fuck about that as long as no one else hears sounds from my girl that are meant just for me.
Her nails dig into my back, and I press my palm harder to her lips, practically feeling the cries coming from her mouth.
Gruff sounds fly from my own lips as my thighs begin to send tingles right to my balls. Her pussy begins convulsing, but I can’t hear her moans as she comes because my hand is in the way, so I just stare down at her and watch her fall apart, feeling her squeeze my dick for dear life as I fill her full while I come.
My hips rock into her, pushing her harder against the mattress as she gasps for air against my hand. White dances around the edges of my eyes, making me take a few long blinks as my head feels like it’s on another planet.
When both of our movements slow and we’re dragging air into our lungs, I remove my hand and replace it with a kiss.
“I love you, naughty girl.”
“I love you more,” she whispers, her voice shaky. “I don’t want to go back downstairs with everyone else.” She yawns so big that her eyes water. “After that game and all … that, I’m tired.”
“Me too, babe,” I say, kissing her forehead before I slide out of her and roll onto my back. “Let’s take a nap.”
“A nap sounds nice,” she whispers, her blonde hair spilling all over my pillow.
I pull her body snug to mine until I feel her heart beating against my chest. When she’s this close, everything that’s bothering me slowly melts away. I’m not worried about what to do or not do when it comes to my father. I’m not thinking about anything. I’m just … basking in the fact that I get to be the lucky motherfucker who has Isla Hardy in his bed. And that’s more than enough for me.
THIRTY-THREE
HENDRIX
Tonight isthe night that we play the team of a man I’ve come to loathe more than anyone else on this planet.
Nick fucking Pelletier. The dumbest motherfucker I’ve had the displeasure of meeting. A dude who helped create the best human being I know and didn’t want anything to do with her. I’m just glad this is an away game, so Isla isn’t here to see any of this happen.
When I heard he was hired as this team’s head coach back over the summer, I knew that I’d be stuck coming face-to-face with him eventually. And seeing as he coached me a while back, I also assume he’s going to be dumb enough to talk to me too.
For his own good, I fucking hope not.
Coach Huff walks into the center of the locker room, clapping his hands together lightly. “All right, fellas. You already know what we’re going to have to do tonight to come out of here still undefeated.” He stops, looking at Coach Talmage. “Well, aside from getting your asses kicked by the women’s team.” He laughs before his face grows serious again. “This team is going to betough, just like we talked about in practice this week. They’ve studied your game tapes. They know your weaknesses and how to expose them.” His gaze sweeps around to all of us. “But you also know theirs too. So, at the end of those sixty minutes, we’ll see who the stronger team is. Okay?”
When we all mutter, “Yes, Coach,” he nods.
“If it’s us, that’s great. We’ll go back home, work our asses off, and fight another monster next week. And if it’s not … we’ll do the same.” He inhales before letting it out and lifting a foot onto the bench in front of him, leaning forward. “But I’ll tell you, I think you are the better team. But you have to show up and play like it, okay?”
“Yes, Coach!” we all say in unison.
Holding a hand to his ear, he pretends like he didn’t hear us. “What was that?”
“Yes, Coach!” we yell louder, only for him to do the same thing.
So, now, when we call out those two words, we scream it so loud that I’m sure anyone in the hallway hears it, and finally, Coach is satisfied.
“All right. Let’s go get to work,” he drawls. “West, lead ’em out.”
Jameson grabs his stick and helmet before heading toward the exit, and I follow behind him.
“You good, Hunt? You’ve looked a little off all afternoon.”
