“So hate-watch, then.”
I roll my eyes, leaning in to kiss lips that taste like the Coronas he’s been drinking all first quarter. I swipe my tongue across the bottom one, sucking it until I’ve stolen all the flavor, moaning when his hand finds my waist and pulls me to him.
Straddling my man feels as natural as breathing at this point. I’m riding him till the wheels fall off, literally and figuratively.
“So I can’t watch the game, huh?”
I stare into his hooded eyes as his hands go to my ass. “Of course,” I murmur. “That’s why I made you nachos.”
He squeezes, grimacing when his dick jumps against me. “I can’t see the tv, baby.”
I duck my head so that I’m out of his way, fixing my lips to his neck so he can watch the Falcons squander another lead. Frankly, after 28-3, I hate them even more than I hate the duchess.
They were my team growing up, as they were for every kid in Georgia, but I should have known better. Every man who's walked through my life before Ace let me down. Of course a whole ass squad of twelve of them would be a fucking disappointment.
Ace unmutes the tv, and the crowd goes wild at the same time I do. I mark him on one side, then the other, which he’s complained about before—apparently they clown him at work for that. Me being me, I don’t give a fuck, and hearing that just made me want to do it more.
His deep sigh of contentment makes me smile against his skin. I love when he’s happy.
This?
Always makes him happy.
My hand eases down his chest, past his abs, and into the waistband of his sweatpants, my fingers wrapping around the monster in there. It’s hard and ready for me, like always.
But his hand grips my wrist before I can start. “After the game, baby.”
I rear back. “You serious?”
He nods.
Well, this is a problem. A big one.
This wholetelling me nothing is quite high on my list of grievances, and he knows that. I mean, I know he loves football, and these games only come on twice a week, but I want him. Now. It doesn’t even have to take long.
“Wow,” I say. “I’m disappointed, but okay.” I pause, smiling when the thought comes to me.
“I bet your dad would fuck me.”
Yep. That did it.
His eyes flash with anger, his lips tightening into a snarl.
“Fuck did you just say?”
Before I can answer, his hand is around my throat. The other fumbles around, then reaches under my dress, sliding my panties to the side.
“Sit on this dick.”
My air supply is limited, so I don’t waste my breath arguing, not that I would have. I’m getting what I wanted, and so is he.
He loves this as much as I do.
I sink onto him, my eyes rolling back as he fills me with every hard, thick inch of him.
“Hurry up,” he grits, but I know he doesn’t mean it. Truth is, his dad is a sore subject for him. We kissed last year…well, hekissedme, but I seduced him into it. Water under the bridge, but we’ve never discussed it, and Ace is still sensitive about it.
He uses his leverage on my neck to move me, pushing, pulling, forcing me to please myself, rough and inconsiderate. Just the way I like it.
