Page 39 of The False Start (Off the Bench)

“Watch yourself come in the mirror as I fuck you.” On the last word he sinks back into me, one hand holding onto my pigtails, the other gripping my hip tightly.

The angle of this thrusts hitting the most delicious spot inside me, and my eyes start to close as I give myself over to the pleasure coursing through my body.

He releases my hair, his hand wrapping around my throat once more.

“Eyes on my sweetheart, you’re going to watch everything I do to you, then you’re going to watch yourself come on my cock.

” I whimper but keep my eyes on his as he slides his hand down my body, kneading my breast and tweaking my nipple through the red lace of my bra before landing once more at the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves.

My walls are fluttering around him, as he continues to pump into me.

“I can feel how close you are, love.” He circles my clit with two fingers, and I start the ascend.

“Oh— Cal! ”

“That’s it, love, come for me.” That’s all it takes. As if my body was waiting for the words, I break apart, slumping over the sink as my body goes limp from my release. His arm bands across my chest, keeping me upright as he follows me over the edge and collapses against me.

We stay joined together for a few moments, breathing hard. After a minute he presses a kiss to my temple and pulls out of me.

I watch him in the mirror, realizing he didn’t shed a single item of clothing, while I’m standing naked except for my socks, shoes, and bra in a public bathroom. I grab my shorts and pull them on. He grabs my jersey from the floor, shaking it out and brushing the back where it sat on the floor.

“I should’ve used my shirt,” he apologizes.

I inspect the jersey, and it’s not worse for wear, just a little wrinkled where he grabbed it and shrug.

“Next time, just ask me to fuck you.” He chuckles as I pull on the jersey, glaring at him.

“That wasn’t—” I start, but he steps forward, silencing me with another searing kiss that makes me melt against him.

“We both know what that was.” He tucks a loose curl behind my ear and presses a kiss to my forehead.

“Don’t clean up. If you’re going to wear his jersey, I want you to feel my come dripping out of you while you do it.” He turns to the door, pausing to look back at me. “I’ll have a fresh drink for you when you’re back out.”

“And cheese curds,” I request, my voice huskier than I intend after his last statement.

He grins. “Coming right up.” He flips the lock and eases the door open before slipping out of the bathroom.

I stare at myself in the mirror I just watched myself come in.

I’m a little flushed, but other than that don’t look much different than before, just slightly mussed as long as I ignore the hickey that’s starting to bloom near my collarbone.

I adjust the jersey to cover it and tighten up my hair.

I don’t intentionally clean myself up but do quickly pee just to stave off a UTI and then head back out to the table where a new High Noon is waiting.

I slide into the seat next to Cal, ignoring the smirk Katie shoots me and let him tuck me into his side.

“Cheese curds are on their way,” he whispers to me, pressing a light kiss to my temple, and I smile, settling in to enjoy the fourth quarter, having missed most of the third while busy making the mess currently dripping out of me.

Three days later, I’m at home reading when my phone buzzes with a package notification. I frown at it. I’m almost positive I haven’t ordered anything lately, but I pull on an extra sweater and slip on my clogs to head down to the package room off the lobby.

It’s a single small box with no return address, with my name and address written in a flawless, elegant script I’m sure I’ve seen before but can’t place. I carry it back upstairs before tearing it open, beyond curious.

Lila,

Thought you might like to have a second option for your game day outfits. I hope you’ll think of me as much as I’ll be thinking of you while you wear it.

C

I smile, pulling the navy blue Avalanche jersey from the box.

I turn it over, seeing Basset emblazoned on the back above his number with a silver signature near the NFL logo at the hem.

Beneath the jersey is a knit hat, complete with silver pompom, and I giggle.

A home jersey to match the silver away one.

My man just sent me his jersey, and not just any jersey, but a signed one.

I move to hang it in my closet, but pause, an idea taking form in my mind.

I strip out of my loungewear and pull the jersey on.

It’s a smaller size than my Kelce jersey, leaving significantly more leg on display, and grab my phone from the counter to snap a quick photo in the mirror, capturing both the name on my back and my bare legs.

I send it to Cal with a quick “Thanks!” and settle back down to my book.

My phone pings moments later, and I ignore it for a full five minutes before I can’t take it anymore and read his reply.

Cal

Glad it got to you.

I huff. Not even a single comment about how good I look in it? Rude. I spiral for a second, wondering if he hadn’t enjoyed what happened at the bar as much as I did, before another text pings.

Cal

Please for the love of God, wear pants with it in public. I don’t know if I can fight off that many people.

I laugh, it’s so him to be both protective and supportive in such a combative combination.

What about when we’re not in public?

Cal

Then I’d rather you didn’t wear panties either.

Well, I can’t afford to have you rip them all off of me.

I’ll buy you new ones before I apologize for that.

Don’t you think that could get expensive?

Money is no object. Not when it comes to you. And especially not when it comes to your fucking golden cunt.

I shiver, the butterflies in my stomach returning with a vengeance.

What if I told you, it wouldn’t be an issue tonight?

Cal

Don’t do this to me, I’m already hard. Coach is about to give me extra burpees because I’ve been on my phone.

Do you know how hard it is to do burpees with a hard on?

Sounds tough.

I slip the jersey back on and send him another photo with my hand between my legs, the hem of the jersey just covering anything that would be too problematic.

Cal

Fuck me.

Let me take you to dinner tomorrow.

Are you sure you can wait that long?

I can’t in good conscious fuck you the way I want to without giving you a proper date first.

The butterflies rejoice.

Dinner it is.

Cal

I’ll pick you up at 7. Wear something nice.

Sounds good.

Something NOT red.

I laugh. I have a feeling red will be a new trigger color for him. I think through my closet for a minute, landing on the perfect dress.

How about navy?

Cal

Perfect.

Sorry gtg

I put my phone down and hang up the jersey, trying to keep the smile off my face as I refocus my attention on my book. I fail miserably and instead daydream about tomorrow evening.