Page 80 of Tackle

The elevator doors parted and Oz stepped out, jogging down the hall to their hotel room, a laughing Emerson hanging on for dear life—arms wrapped around his neck, legs hugging his waist—as he carried her piggyback style.

The team celebration was still going strong when Oz had exclaimed he’d had quite enough and he and Emerson had snuck out. With the way everyone was slinging back drinks, he was positive no one had noticed.

At the door, he inserted the cardkey into the slot and pushed it open as soon as the light turned green. Emerson slid down his back but he didn’t let her get far.

“Where are you going?” He grabbed her hand pulling her toward him.

He cut her laugh off with a kiss. Pushing her up against the door, he devoured her mouth. He’d never been so hungry for her. Cupping her face, his fingers dived into her hair and he tilted her head back, deepening the kiss.

Winning the Super Bowl had been great. Honestly, one of the best feelings of his life, but nothing—nothing—compared to kissing Emerson.

Ripping his mouth from hers, he took a step back, eyeing her up and down. “As much as I love seeing you in my jersey, it’s got to go.”

Grabbing the hem, he pulled it over her head. It came away easily. The thing was huge on her, hanging to her knees and looking as wide as a house, but she’d never looked sexier. Pride had filled his chest when he’d seen her in it. It shouted to the world she was his.

Red lace met his eyes and he raised a brow.

Her lips tipped up. “Surprise.”

Excited to see what else lay in store, he ripped at the button of her jeans and yanked them over her hips. She was left standing before him in something he thought was called a teddy. Cups cradling her breasts, the material made a V over her stomach, everything looking like it was barely held together with satin ties.

“And that’s not even the best part,” she murmured.

There was better?

Hell yes, there was. She did a little turn revealing her back. The satin ties crisscrossed to end in a bow that covered her bare ass revealed by a G-string.

She reached behind her neck and said, “Pull the bow.”

He did and the whole damn thing dropped to the floor. Growling, he grabbed her around the waist, hauling her to his front. He walked the few steps to the bed, throwing her face down on it while at the same time yanking open the fly of his jeans. He grabbed her by the hips, lifting her up, and sank himself deep.

She cried out, her hands fisting the bedspread.

“You okay, baby?” he panted.

“Yes. God, yes.”

Her little mews were driving him insane and pushing him near the edge. He wouldn’t last much longer.

“You’re gonna have to help me, baby. Touch yourself.”

One of her hands released the bed covers to disappear beneath them. He couldn’t see her finger herself, but that wasn’t helping his situation because his imagination took over—not one of his most brilliant ideas. He was so close to the edge now, he was about to topple over the cliff.

Relief smacked him in the chest when she cried out, her body shuddering. He was coming before he had a chance to stop himself. White stars flashed before his eyes and his balls tightened as he roared his release. Shaken and drained, he fell to his knees, face planting the bed by her hip.

“Sorry, baby,” he mumbled into the linens. “I know that was fast. Give me a minute and we’ll try that again. Slower next time.”

He felt the bed dip and turned his head to see she was sitting up, a shit-eating grin on her face.

“What’s with the smile?”

“I made you lose control. Not much of a better compliment than that.”

He inched between her legs and her hands dove into his hair, brushing it back from his face. He ran his hand up her thighs and around to cup her ass. “Let me ask you something.”

“Hum?” she purred, still stroking his hair.

“As much as I loved the getup you had on…” She smirked and he chuckled, feeling his cheeks heat. “Yeah, I liked it a lot. But what if we’d lost? I’m assuming you wore it to celebrate.”

---