I shift in my seat, adjusting myself again as I pick up my own burger. I take a bite, barely tasting it despite my hunger. All I can focus on is her, the way her throat moves as she swallows, the tiny dab of sauce at the corner of her mouth that her tongue darts out to catch.
Her eyes meet mine over her burger, and I swear she knows exactly what she's doing. Each bite is accompanied by another little sound of pleasure, another flick of her tongue, another flutter of her eyelashes.
She's going to be the death of me.
I force myself to eat, mechanically working through my burger while trying not to stare at her mouth.
Another moan, this one deeper. I glance up to see hereyes closed, head tilted slightly back as she chews. Jesus Christ.
“Do you have to do that?” I mutter, stabbing a fry with more force than necessary.
Her eyes open, all innocence. “Do what?”
“Make those…noises.”
“I can't help it if the food's good,” she says with a shrug that makes her sweater slip further down her shoulder. “Don't you ever just enjoy things, Coach King?”
Yes, I enjoy fucking you senseless. I enjoy coming inside you while you sleep. I’d enjoy bending you over this table right now if there weren't other people around.
“I enjoy plenty of things,” I say instead. “What are you planning to do with your time stuck here?”
She sets her burger down, her lips curving into a knowing smile.
“I was thinking about seeing who I could get to sneak into my room next,” she says, voice low and teasing. “Last night's visitor was…thorough.”
“I'm not sure what you're talking about,” I try, but my voice sounds strained even to my own ears.
“No?” She tilts her head, studying me. “That's funny, because I woke up feeling very empty. And I definitely went to bed very…stuffed.”
I stare at her for a long moment. My throat feels tight, chest constricting with something between guilt and arousal. I should probably apologize for sneaking into her room like some kind of fucking predator, but the memory of her sleeping body responding to my touch, the way she moaned my name even unconscious—I can't bring myself to regret it.
“I should probably say I'm sorry,” Ifinally manage, my voice low and rough. “For coming back. For not waking you up first.”
She watches me carefully, her eyes giving nothing away. My dick throbs painfully against my zipper just thinking about how she looked with my cum leaking out of her, how she felt around my tongue.
“I crossed a line,” I continue, leaning forward slightly. “Coming to your room without permission was?—”
“Extremely hot,” she finishes, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Unless it wasn't you. Maybe it was just a ghost with a very talented mouth and a big dick.”
My hands clench into fists under the table as I fight the urge to grab her, to haul her upstairs and do it all over again.
“Either way, I really fucking enjoyed it.”
My cock gets even harder at her casual admission. The thought of her waking up feeling what I'd done to her, maybe even touching herself after is enough to have me coming in my pants.
“Do not invite anyone else into your room, Hennessy.” I growl, leaning closer.
The words are out before I can stop them, possessive and demanding. Her eyebrows shoot up, and I know immediately I've made a tactical error. Her lips curve into a dangerous smile.
“Oh, really?” She says, wiping her hands on her napkin. “Well, I am an adult, Beckham, so if I want to fuck every man or woman in this hotel, it's well within my right.” She leans forward, eyes locked with mine. “What are you going to do about it?”
The question hangs between us, a gauntlet thrown down. My vision narrows until all I can see is her—the challenge in her eyes, the curve of her lips, the smooth skin ofher shoulder where that fucking sweater keeps slipping down.
“You wouldn't dare,” I say, my voice dropping to a dangerous growl.
“Wouldn't I?” she counters. “Maybe I'll start with Chad from the bar. Or that cute guy from the Northern State team. Or?—”
“Stop,” I snarl, my hand shooting out to grip her wrist. “Just fucking stop.”
