“How would you know?”
“There’s no way socks make that big of a difference.”
“They absolutely do,” I reply.
She scowls back. “Aren’t you worried about foot fungus?”
“Not when my fifty-million-dollar contract is on the line.” I reach across the center console to tug on a lock of her hair. “I’ll take you skating sometime and show you.”
“No thanks. I like my feet fungus-free.”
“We’ll see,” I reply.
When we get back to my place, I carry her upstairs, and this time when I fuck her, she actually screams my name.
My morning alarm rings way too soon—even if I set it for ten minutes earlier than usual just so I’d have a moment to admire the sight of her in my bed. She’s tucked against me, wearing my T-shirt, and when she lifts her head to look at me with her sleep-heavy eyes, I revel in the sight of her unruly hair, looking a mess like she’s been fucked all night.
“I don’t want you to go,” she says in that spell-like voice, like the witch she is, kicking her feet up behind her and dragging a hand through my hair. I can’t remember the last time anyone’s touched me like this—like I mean something to them. I don’t know if anyone ever has.
“I don’t want to go. Not after what you’ve done,” I tease her, kissing the top of her head. “Coach Marshall is probably on his third aneurysm by now.”
I haven’t looked at the team group chat, but I have over three hundred messages to catch up on.
“Sorry,” she says sheepishly.
“You don’t look very sorry.”
“Well I am. In fact, I have a lot to apologize for.”
Something glints in her eyes, and my mouth grows dry. Before I can have a say, she slings one leg over my hips, grinding down against me just enough to drag a groan from my throat. Then she moves back, lowering herself onto her forearms and taking me in her hand. In an instant, I’m swelling to my full size.
“Freddie,” I rasp, just as the tip of my cock disappears between her lips. She sucks me between her cheeks and I feel her tongue slide against me, and my head falls back against the pillow. “You don’t have to,” I groan, throwing an arm over my forehead because it’s humiliating how easily she unravels me.
She pulls me out of her mouth with a softpop. “I’m not done apologizing.”
Then she’s putting me in her mouth again, her hair falling in beautiful waves around her cheeks. She takes me deeper this time, so deep I feel myself hit the back of her throat, and when she makes a light gagging noise I know I’m not going to stand a chance.
When she opens her mouth again, I sit up, grabbing her by the cheeks and crushing my mouth to hers before I say, “Turn around if you want me to last.”
She looks at me for a moment, that adorable confusion in her eyes, before she understands my meaning and her cheeks flush. Then she does as I say, no questions asked, and suddenly I’m so hard it hurts.
She leans down on her forearms, her ass in the air, and I can see she's already ready for me. I waste no time moving behind her, grabbing her by the hips and pressing a hungry, open-mouthed kiss to her already-soaked cunt. Her resultant moan enraptures me, and I kiss her again, sucking at her folds while she rocks back against my face. I draw her clit between my lips one more time before straightening, on my knees, taking my cock in my hand. I drag it up her slit, soaking my tip in her velvet wetness, my mouth bone dry.
“Would you like me to fuck you now?” I lean forward to whisper against her ear, one hand on her lower back.
“Yes,” she nearly gasps.
“There’s a condom in the nightstand if you’d like to use it,” I add, nipping at her earlobe.
“I want to feel you,” she demands.
I push myself in, just a little—feeling the tiniest stretch. I’m aching to fuck her, but I need her begging for it.
“Do you?” I say. “I’m not sure.”
“Mattias,” she begs, arching her back and pushing her ass towards my hips, trying to push me deeper inside. I pull back, a glistening string of her slick stretching between us. I catch it with my finger and spread it over my tip before splaying my hand flat across her lower back, holding her in place.
“Mattias, what?”
