Page 97 of Playing Dirty

My own climax takes hold of me, and I come on a roar while burying my face into his shoulder. Cum spurts from my cock, filling him as my hips start to stutter, only to freeze while buried inside him to the hilt. I groan as his ass continues clamping down on me, drawing out my orgasm until there’s nothing left inside me.

My forehead rests in the crook of Madden’s neck, and I breathe in the spiced scent of his skin mixed with the salt from his sweat. I press a soft kiss there while my body quakes and quivers after being shot sky high, making it so I can barely hold my weight up over him.

Madden’s arms wrap around my waist, pulling my body down onto his, even when I attempt to keep myself hovering over him.

“I don’t want to crush you.”

“You won’t,” he mutters before holding me impossibly tighter. “I’m not some fragile thing you’re gonna break. I wanna feel you against me.”

All I can do is nod and lay another soft kiss against his collarbone.

We stay like that, my softening cock still half-lodged inside him, for God knows how long. It’s only when I start to catch a chill from the sweat cooling on my back that I finally move, pulling the rest of the way from his body.

He releases a long, drawn-out breath, and I instantly go on high alert.

Rolling to my side, I lean over him and search his face, looking for any signs that I might’ve gone too hard at the end and wound up hurting him after all.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it if I did, but I ask thequestion anyway.

“What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

His eyes find mine, and he shakes his head. “No, it’s just…” He trails off and lets out a little laugh. “I don’t know. Your messiness is starting to mess me up too.”

Shit.

It wasn’t what I was expecting him to say, but I feel guilty nonetheless.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He reaches up, swiping away a piece of hair that’s fallen over my forehead, only to offer a soft smile…and two words that stop my fucking heart.

“I’m not.”

Twenty-Five

Theo

I can barely see straight when I stumble into my hotel room after our double header down in St. Louis. Despite having put in the hours of practice and lifting, I’m always a bit sore after the first few series of our preseason, and playing three games within twenty-four hours only makes it worse.

But being near home did bring one good thing out of the weekend: getting to see my mom. Especially grabbing a late dinner with her after last night’s game at my favorite burger joint, which has the best homemade fry sauce on the planet.

She was at both games today as well, having always been one helluva cheerleader for me through all my years playing ball. Dad and Carla showed up for our second game this evening too, despite me telling them both it wasn’t necessary. The last thing I wanted was Mom having to see them together andbe reminded of all the shit she’s since left behind, but to my surprise, the three of them were chatting together when I came out after the game.

And if that wasn’t weird enough? Before I got on the bus back to the hotel, Carla handed me one of those to-go containers with her homemade peach cobbler inside. An entire freaking pan worth.

At first, I thought it was for me to give to Madden, but when she explicitly stated it was for me…something inside me twisted a little. In a good way, though I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t awkward to accept a homemade dessert after being balls deep inside her son the night before coming down here.

But I guess what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, and it meansIget to try this infamous cobbler Madden’s mentioned more than once.

Which is exactly why I snap a picture of it to send him, along with a taunting little text, before dropping down on my bed.

Me: Look what’s coming home with me.

I glance at the time after sending it, realizing Madden’s day on the diamond likely finished hours ago. A quick google search later reveals Blackmore won both games in their home series—no surprise there—and stats wise, he played one helluva game against Fall River.

I’m in the middle of typing out another text to him, asking about the game, when a response to my photo pops up.

Madden: You better share.