Page 35

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Dozer

She comes as soon as I push inside her, her pussy squeezing me like a fist, her shout ringing in my ears. I force myself to move slow, knowing she’ll need a second to recover once she finishes coming, but desperate to pound into her, to follow her to the promised land.

I’m barely rocking into her, and her orgasm seems to just keep going and going and going, until finally she goes slack beneath me, and I hold myself still, waiting a beat before gathering her in my arms and kissing her.

She kisses me back, slowly bringing her arms around me, holding me close, and I lose track of how long we stay like this, joined and kissing, and I couldn’t ask for anything more in this moment. Until she starts moving her hips, pressing up into me, her knees bracketing my thighs, her feet planted on the bed for leverage.

And just like that, I’m done.

I managed to keep myself slow and present all through her orgasm and after, but I can’t hold back anymore. Reaching down, I grip one of her legs, hitching it higher on my hip so I can sink into her just that little bit more. I let go of my restraint, letting my instincts take over, chasing my release until I come, my blood roaring in my ears, the feelings so intense I feel like I might black out as I pulse inside her.

Once I come back to myself, I roll to the side, taking her with me, not ready to pull out but not wanting to hold myself up anymore. She lies on top of me, as boneless as I am.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”

I can’t help grinning, feeling smugly satisfied. Trailing one hand down her back, I put my other hand behind my head. “Good.”

She kisses my chest, and warmth spreads through me at the gesture of affection, supplanting the smugness and making me feel cared for in a way I don’t know if I remember feeling before. Not like this, at least.

Eventually, I feel myself start to soften, and I know I better pull out before the condom falls off inside her. Rolling her to the side, I reach between us and hang onto the base of the condom as I withdraw, making quick work of disposing of it and washing my hands before climbing back into bed with her.

Marissa snuggles into me, pulling a light blanket over us. I keep one of my legs out because I’m still warm, and with her added body heat, I don’t need the extra layer. But I tuck it around her, making sure she’s covered, kissing her forehead and letting out a soft sound of contentment that she echoes.

Conversation flows between us, easy and free, the way it always has, and it feels like all the things that were discombobulated recently have found their way back into place, a few extra slots getting filled as well where I wasn’t even aware there was something missing.

This is it, though. This—what I now have with Marissa—is what I was missing.

We stay in her bed talking and enjoying each other until my stomach rumbles loudly, and Marissa bursts out laughing and sits up. “Come on, Tiger. Let’s get you some post-game snacks. You usually eat sooner than this after a game, don’t you?”

Sitting up as well, I shrug. “Yeah. But I’m not gonna die from taking my time to get a snack one time.”

She tosses me a sardonic look as she moves to her dresser and pulls out some clothes, tossing them on the bed as she pulls on a pair of loose fitting gray pants and a black tank top, her nipples standing at attention and making my dick start to stir again. Pointing a finger at me, she narrows her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I know you’re hungry, but eating me won’t fill your belly.”

I cackle, climbing off the bed as well. She’s one to talk, though. When I reach my arms above my head in a stretch, her eyes trail down my body, lingering on my cock, making it get even chubbier. “Stop looking at me like that if you don’t want to be my post-game snack.”

Giggling, she turns away and heads out the door. I follow her, stopping next to the bag I dropped in her living room and pulling out a pair of soft flannel lounge pants and stepping into them before following her into the kitchen. She’s already pulling food out of the fridge, assembling the options. “Okay. I have veggies and dip, plus I could put together a charcuterie plate.”

“Oohhh, fancy. Grown up Lunchables.”

She shoots me a look. “My charcuterie plates are much better than Lunchables, thank you very much. I have salami. And prosciutto. Not slimy ham and cheese.”

“I do prefer my cheese to be slime free,” I say, propping my hip against the counter.

“Same. Now, what else? Oh, I got some blueberries the other day. And apples. It’s a different kind that I haven’t had before.” She sets the fruit in question on the counter as well, closes the fridge, then heads for the pantry. “I have nuts, too. Oh, and I got this baguette today from a bakery around the corner. I could toast it up to go along with everything else?” She wiggles the baguette at me, her eyebrows raised in question, as though there’s any world where I’d say no to something she clearly wants and so adorably offers me.

At first I thought she was all class and polish, a perfect little princess. But the more I’ve gotten to know her, there’s a layer of almost girlish cuteness that’s easy to miss under the sleek business suits and perfectly plucked eyebrows. And when I first saw her, I never would’ve guessed she had a tomboy streak. She’s multifaceted and fascinating, and the more I get to know her, the more I want to know.

“Sounds great. What can I do to help?”

She pauses like the question is surprising and catches her off guard. “Oh, uh …” She glances around for a second, then starts moving again, opening a cabinet and pulling out a wooden cutting board, then getting a serrated knife out of the knife block next to her stove. She nods at a cabinet near me. “Plates are in there. Get a couple out while I cut this up. Serve yourself as much as you want of the available options.”

“Want me to cut up a couple of the apples?”

Another quick pause that she covers quickly, though I don’t miss the way her eyes go wide, like me offering to cut an apple is … what? Shocking? Scary? I’m not sure. But she nods, stopping what she’s doing to get out a small, blue plastic cutting board and passing it to me. “That would be great.” She gestures to the knife block, allowing me to select my own knife, then turns on the broil function on her oven to heat it up.

“Oh, I love broiled bread,” I say when she returns to slicing the baguette. “When I was a kid, sometimes my mom would broil slices of bread to serve as a side with dinner. I always thought it was so special and fancy, and I loved how it was crunchy on top and soft on the bottom.”

She grins at me. “Great. This’ll be right up your alley, then.” She makes quick work of the baguette, buttering each piece and setting it on a baking sheet while I find a large plate to assemble the rest of our spread, fanning out the meats and piling the cheese cubes in the middle, then arranging the apple slices alongside. I also take it upon myself to rummage through the cabinets to find a bowl for the blueberries, opening the container and running them under the water before putting them in the bowl. I take everything into the living room and set it on the coffee table, coming back for a couple of smaller plates for us to use if we want to.

She stops me before I can head back to the living room, wrapping her arms around me and giving me a kiss. “You’re so sweet,” she says softly.

“Thank you. So are you.” I dip my head for another kiss, but the timer goes off and she spins around to pull the bread out of the oven. I take advantage of the way she’s bent over to rub her ass for a second, and she laughs as she straightens, setting the baking sheet on top of the stove and looking at me over her shoulder. “What?” I ask. “You have a nice butt.”

When I turn to retrieve the plates, she smacks my ass. “Thanks. So do you.”

I just grin at her and head into the living room. She joins me a moment later, the bread on another plate that she sets on the coffee table before saying, “Oh! Oh, yeah.” She disappears into the kitchen without further explanation, returning a few seconds later with a couple cans. “I got this the other day. It’s from a local cidery. I think it’d pair better with our food choices than beer, don’t you think?”

Reaching for a can, I look at the label. It’s a cranberry cider from a Seattle-based cidery. “This sounds perfect.” I crack open the can then hold it up, waiting for her to do the same. She’s grinning widely as she taps her can against mine. “To us,” I say. “And to many more evenings just like this.”

Her eyes go soft as she taps her can against mine once more. “To us,” she echoes, and we both drink.

I reach for one of the small plates, loading it up with food because, despite what I said in the bedroom, I really am starving. The bread is delicious, toasted perfectly on top, soft on the bottom, flavorful in the way only fresh-baked bread is. Paired with the prosciutto and cheese? It’s amazing.

“This is so good,” I mumble around a mouthful of food.

Marissa chuckles, popping a blueberry in her mouth. “I’m glad. I think part of it’s because you’re really hungry, though.”

I shrug. “Probably. It’s still good, though.”

She reaches for the remote and turns on the TV. “Want to watch something?”

“Sure.” But we don’t get very far with choosing something to watch because we end up talking about everything instead.

At one point, she wrinkles her nose, which has me curious. “What’s that face about?”

She shakes her head. “Oh, well, there are so many Christmas movies here, plus Die Hard , which made me think of my family, and I just realized I never told you I’m going home for Christmas.” It all comes out in a rush, her gaze focused on the screen even though she’s not scrolling through movies anymore, Die Hard still highlighted.

“Oh, yeah?” I prompt, not quite sure what response she’s wanting from me.

She nods, biting her lip and sighing. “Yeah. When my mom called the other day? She practically begged me to come home.” She finally looks at me, and I can see the conflicting emotions in her face. “I wasn’t planning on going back so soon, y’know? But I guess both of my siblings and their spouses will be there, so …”

She trails off, and I nod. I think I understand a little of what she’s feeling now. “So you feel obligated to go. And part of you wants to but the rest of you would rather not?”

A sad smile flits across her face. “Something like that. Plus, you’re going to be away for what? Like a week?” I nod, and she blows out a breath. “So we’ve just finally gotten to this point, and you’re leaving … tomorrow?” I nod again. “And by the time you get back, I’ll be in Texas. And I’ll be there for another week.”

When she pokes out her lower lip, I can’t contain myself anymore. Reaching over, I grab her and pull her close, making her squeak in surprise again. She seems to do that whenever I manhandle her, but she doesn’t protest. I pull her into my lap, my arms loosely wrapped around her, and I hold her there for a second before speaking. “We have plenty of time. I agree that having to spend the next two weeks apart isn’t ideal. But look on the bright side. Now I’ll have time to get you a Christmas present.”

She splutters out a laugh, pressing a soft kiss to my lips before gazing at me with a warm look on her face. “I guess that’s true. I’ll have time to go shopping back home. Maybe I can find you something cool that I can’t get here.” Her eyes light up and she covers her mouth to hide the giant grin on her face. “Oh, I have the most perfect idea.”

“Are you gonna tell me?”

She laughs, and I like that I’ve managed to turn around the sadness that was threatening to overtake her with such a simple suggestion. “No,” she says like she wants to add, “duh,” to the end, but of course Marissa’s too nice and too classy to do something like that. “It’s an idea for your Christmas present. If I tell you what I’m thinking, it’ll ruin the surprise.”

I let out a grumbly hum. “I guess that’s fair. But now I wanna know.”

She kisses me again. “Guess you’ll just have to be patient.”

“For you? I’ll wait forever.”