“Show me.” She lifts up her fingers, and they’re coated with her arousal. She’s fucking soaked. “I want to see how pink and puffy it is,” I grate out, my dick now throbbing uncontrollably. Layla’s fingers move, holding herself open to me. And, sure enough, her clit is so very pink and swollen. Fuck, even her clit is beautiful. Layla is beautiful all over. “Play with your clit,” I husk out, my breathing intensifying rapidly. She moves her fingers, pushing two into her sopping wet pussy. She’s so wet, I can hear a sucking sound as her fingers sink into her body. “Make yourself come.” Her hand starts to move and she starts to whimper.
“I’m close,” she murmurs, her eyes now closed, her hand working furiously between her legs.
“Come for me, baby,” I command. I’m about to blow. Stroking harder, I stimulate the tip of my dick, holding on until Layla comes.
Within seconds, Layla grunts, her orgasm overtaking her, her whole body shuddering. “Gabe!” she moans, her pussy strangling her fingers.
“Play with your nipples.” If I were there, I would be the one sucking her nipples as she climaxes, prolonging her orgasm. Her hand sweeps up to her tits and she pinches a nipple, causing another mini orgasm to sweep through her body. Her whole body tenses, then she collapses on the bed, her breasts rising and falling as she sucks air into her lungs.
Watching Layla come is an experience. It’s so good, it sets off my own climax. Imagining her hands on me, my dick nestled into her ripe body, I grip my dick and pump hard, coming all over my abs, cum running between my fingers. “Fuuuck,” I mumble, struggling to breathe. That’s how much Layla affects me. Even from far away.
I watch as she comes down from her climax. Her skin has a rosy glow to it, and her thighs glisten with her pleasure.
“Layla, baby,” I whisper. “I love you.”
Her eyes flutter open, focusing on mine. “Love you, too,” she husks.
We stay on, eventually falling asleep, the video winking out sometime during the night.
CHAPTER 21
GABE
It’s the first week of April and the regular season is now in full swing. We won today’s game 4-2. It always feels good to beat our division rivals. I follow the players out of the stadium, when a fan stops me.
“Gabe! Hey! Gabe!”
I stop. I try to take the time to stop and sign autographs.
“Have a Sharpie?” I ask, looking into the sun. It’s so bright, I can barely tell who I’m talking to. But I can see it’s a woman.
“Can I get a picture instead?”
“Sure.” I just want to get this over with. As soon as I agree, she loops her arms around my waist and presses her breasts into my side. I try to pull away before she snaps a selfie, but I don’t manage it fast enough. She goes to take another one.
“Okay, times up.” I tell her gruffly. Instead of thank you, she smirks at me. Odd. Thinking nothing of it, I rejoin the team and get on the bus to go back to the hotel.
Before long, we’re back at the hotel and I’m just relaxing after the day, when my phone starts to blow up with text messages. The first is from Jay. But there are over twenty more.
Jay: Holy shit coach! How did you bag her?
What the fuck? He’s already met Layla. Then I look at the screenshot from social media he sent with his text. It’s the fan from earlier. And she’s insinuating that we slept together. Zooming in on the photo, I look closely and realize it’s the same rabid fan from last year. I just didn’t recognize her, as I was staring into the sun as the picture was taken.
Gabe: She’s not my girlfriend.
Jay: Damn, coach.
Gabe: I’m not with her. She’s just a fan I took a picture with today.
Jay: You sly dog.
Gabe: Shut the fuck up. Right this instant. Repeat: I’ve never cheated and I never will. Get that out of your dumb head. Now.
Jay: Sorry, man. Do you have her number? J/k!
Gabe:
I growl, looking at all of the other messages, mostly from other coaches and players. And they’re all like what Jay sent. Except one.
