She looks like a goddess.
She fucks like a demon.
I grasp the round globes of her arse and help lift her, the friction of my cock dragging in and out of her tight channel sending fireworks across the base of my spine. An involuntary groan crawls up my throat, and Jade’s hands dive into my hair, pulling taut while she holds on for dear life as I begin to buck up into her.
The crack of my palm smacking against her arse reverberates throughout the room, and her walls contract around me, squeezing impossibly tight.
“Oh my God, Tieran. Oh my—yes, fuck me, just like that. You’re doing so good, your cock feels so—fuck.” Her words are slurred with pleasure, barely coherent as I pummel into her, balls slapping against her ass, drawing tight with the need for release.
“It's you, Jade. Only you make me this hard.” I punctuate it with a harsh thrust. “Only you drive me this out of my goddamn mind with need.” I slow my speed a fraction. “Look at me, baby,” I command.
She doesn’t hesitate to obey, eyes locking with mine.
“Yours. I amyours—” I thrust for emphasis— “and this pussy is mine.Youare mine. No more depriving me, or yourself, of this. Do you understand?”
She mewls needily as she rocks against me, greedy for friction. “Yes. Yours. Mine.” She whimpers in agreement, half out of her mind with pleasure. I’m not sure if she even realises what she’s saying, but I pick up pace again.
“Need this—need you. Every day. As much as you’ll give me.” My tone is desperate and guttural, like her agreement, her admission that what we have can’t be ignored, cured an affliction I've been suffering from for eternity.
Her walls grip me tight as her orgasm tears through her, and she shakes wildly on top of me, forcing my own movements to slow but sending me headfirst into my ownclimax, as I spill ropes of hot cum into her only moments after her own release.
Jade collapses onto my chest, our limbs tangling as I slowly move in and out, pushing the release that threatens to slide out back inside.
Wrapping one arm tightly around her, I place the other on the back of her head, lightly raking my fingers through her hair. “Hey.” I tug on a strand until she looks up at me with a lazy, happy smile on her face. “I want to make sure you know that when I said you’re mine, I mean all of you, not just this.” I indicate to our partially naked bodies, still connected, and covered with sweat.
I can’t describe the look on her face. Contentment, maybe? That’s what I want it to be, at least—happy, settled, at home with me.
“You’re mine too,” she says before softly turning her head into my hand and kissing my palm.
My mind is quiet in a way it only ever is when she’s around as we hold each other. When she looks up, the smile she gives me is brighter than the sun breaking over the dawn of a new day: beautiful, with the promise of more.
As I lean forward and kiss her brow, I think, if all it took was my world turning inside out, public humiliation and endless nights tossing and turning in a cyclone of self-doubt, I would do it all again, as long as it led me to her.
The day is grim,rain chucking it down all practice, but Ballard refuses to let up. The pitch is muck under my boots, and grime coats my entire body from running drills back and forth through sodden grass as my feet tear up the field, flinging mud onto my skin. It’s miserable conditions, but matches aren’t exempt from bad weather, and neither is practice.
Yet, despite the piss poor weather, I’ve felt lighter on my feet today than I have in months. My head is clear, and the constant noise and droning has eased to no more than a whisper. It’s been bliss. The quiet, calm surety I feel after my weekend with Jade left me with a new perspective. If she can believe in me that much, why shouldn’t I? I’m the one who’s put in countless days becoming the best at my position. I’ve been here the whole time as I fought to earn my spot. It’s about time I remember that and start acting accordingly.
The guys have been looking at me like I’ve sprouted another head with the obvious shift in my playing, but no one dares to speak of it and risk jinxing everything. Can’t say I blame them either; I’ve been holding my breath all day waiting for a slip up, something, anything that takes me right back to the shite poor excuse of a player I’ve been for months.
It never comes.
We practice for hours, and with every drill, every practice play, I feel like I’m coming back to myself. For the first time all season, the calls I make are the right ones, and I’m anticipating how the offensive players are going to move correctly.
Liberation hums through me, but once practice is over, the doubt starts to creep back in. We have a home match in just a few days. What will happen when I step out under the stadium lights to the sounds of a raucous crowd? Will I fly or fall?
Stop trying to move the mountain and climb it.
Jade’s words have drifted across my mind almost as much as she does since our night at my place. Every time her voice, raspy and melodic, floats in, it feels like a balm to my anxious mind. Her laugh, each biting remark, the soft sighs she makes—all of it feels like the answer to a question I’ve been asking myself for years, a final puzzle piece slotted into place.
A large hand claps my shoulder and nudges me forward as Cavan falls into step beside me on the walk back to the tunnels. “Good practice day.”
Cavan Darcey has always been a man of few words, but the ones he chooses always hold weight. He measures them—their meanings—and speaks with intention. That can be either terrifying or comforting, depending on what he says. His quiet nature is a by-product of his childhood spent in the foster system, but despite his unstable upbringing, he’s always been a solid rock at my side.
I nod in his direction, not feeling the need to fill the quiet with words. We walk together to the locker room, where Coach stands, hands on his hips, everyone around him clenching their arseholes tight with anticipation. The serious look on Ballard’s face makes me want to hide instead of joining the fray like we are.
“I’ve heard rumours from other clubs that scouts have been seen at matches.” A rumbling from half the teambuilds in the pregnant silence permeating the air. “Settle down,” Coach chastises.
“Do you know if they’re coming to any of ours?” Amari asks from the back of the huddle.
