Page 23 of Touchdown, Tennessee

I moaned again, low and quiet this time.

“Know what?” I uttered, trying to bluff even as his touch felt incredible. “It’s better if you don’t fuck me. It would be the best you’d ever had, and then you’d get all needy and desperatefor more, watching me out on the field. I don’t need that distraction.”

He gripped my cock around the base, tugging it a couple of times as he leaned in, his lips moving close to my ear.

“You really do think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“You seem pretty interested in my cock for a guy whoisn’tgoing to fuck me.”

He hummed, jamming a knee between my legs. His thigh came up against the bottom of my balls, resting there like he wanted to remind me he had some power over me.

“If I fuck you,” he said, still close to my ear. “I own you.”

I couldn’t hide the way my cock throbbed when he was squeezing it so tight. “All I hear is talk. Iknowyou’re not going to do it.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

I put a hand forward, reaching for the front of his pants.

I pressed my palm against his bulge, feeling how hard he was, too.

“I know that youlied,” I growled. “I’m not your type. Not even close. But you still want to fuck me anyway.”

“Turn around,” he said, fire in his voice.

As he let go of my cock and finally moved his knee away from my groin, I flipped, pressing my hands up against the surface of the wooden dresser. I kicked off my shorts and briefs and shoved backward up against him, pushing my ass onto him.

I felt him fumbling for his belt buckle, and a surge of adrenaline hit me.

I fuckingwon.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “You’re not getting your coach to cancel the article. Iwillbe there. Every game. Every post-game.”

He pushed a finger up against my hole and I groaned.

I slid my hand downward on the dresser drawers and tried to open the top one, reaching inside and pulling out a bottle of lube.

“So handy,” he praised me.

I turned to look at him and after one glance at the hunger in his eyes, I knew he wasn’t doing this as a favor to me.

“Ever had a jock call you pretty before?” I asked.

Something flashed in his eyes. He gripped my hair with his free hand and pushed me forward again, keeping his fingers latched onto the back of my head.

“Quit talking.”

“Then shut me up.”

He responded by pushing his slicked fingers inside me forcefully, all at once. I let out a breath, leaning forward against the set of drawers. On the surface in front of me, an empty glass shook as my body connected with the front of the dresser.

I was usually able to take it pretty easily, but having two fingers all at once was still a tight stretch.

His other hand moved down, his fingers sliding out of my hair and onto the space between my shoulder blades. He placed an open palm there, slowly guiding me forward so that I bent over a little more.

“You want my cock?”

“Does it look like I want it?” I responded, pushing my ass back further onto his fingers and moaning all over again in the process.