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Was I just the popular college quarterback that made her laugh...and scream?
Are my brothers right?
Did she just like me because I came from a wealthy family and was pegged to be drafted. The all-American boy who has it all compared to the grass-roots family she grew up in?
I hate thinking like that, but I have to keep my eyes open. She makes me blind to logic and sense.
It’s taken a whole lot of work to stay focused on my training and the game this year. If I mess up, I don’t just get a slap on the hand, I can be off the team.
I am at pro level now.
When I step into the room, the party is well underway. Rap music plays loudly, bottles are being passed around. Players lounge on beds, sofas, and out on a balcony.
I spot Kaylee sitting on top of a table, her legs swinging back and forth. She wears a short dress with long sleeves, and it fits her like a glove. Every curve on her lithe, petite body is visible and mine reacts.
My cock thickens and my fingers itch to lift her from the table and carry her back to my room. Then shove her against the door as she clenches my pecs, and lift that fucking skirt off her and slide my shaft inside her.
One hard thrust.
That’s all it would take.
I’ve never fucked her as hard as I wanted to. I was being a good college boyfriend.
Well, something has shifted in me now. I am sick of standing back and watching her. There’s a need to claim her completely. Tell her she won’t leave me again. That she is mine.
And show her with every thrust of my cock inside her hot, wet, needy cunt.
Her eyes lift and meet mine and I see her cheeks pinken from across the room.
A beer is thrust into my hand.
“Get into it, bro!”
I mutterthanksand then end up in conversation after conversation about my injury and the game.
All the while I watch Kaylee and those swinging naked legs.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KAYLEE
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I’m wet.
It’s almost uncomfortable. My panties are absolutely soaked, and I don’t know how much longer I can ignore the way Levi is watching me.
Eating me up with his eyes.
Consuming me with some invisible electrical charge. It pulls me in ways I can’t describe.
The number of times I’ve almost crossed the room tonight and nuzzled into his chest—or climbed the damn thing—and begged him to fuck me is innumerable.
I’m surrounded by testosterone-rich bodies and it’s Levi Montgomery who has my attention.
He always has. After we broke up, I continued going to his games at Penn State and would see him around campus...and once I sort of followed him.
Not that far, but still, who does that?