Page 114 of A Quarterback for Christmas

That’s when Drew kisses my ear, before whispering, “Come all over my cock, Bella. I want to feel you choking me.” That was all I needed to take me over the edge. I drop my forehead to Drew’s shoulder, riding out the even more intense orgasm than the first one because he’s not done yet.

Gripping onto my hips, he holds me tight as he thrusts into me with so much force, I hit the back of the door over and over.

I lazily scratch his back, and say, “Your dick feels so good. I want to feel you paint my insides.” That’s when he starts to lose his rhythm, and I feel him come inside me.

No barriers. Just us. Like it was always meant to be.

Fully spent, I drop my head to the door and sigh out. You’d think after a month of living together, we’d have cooled down with the sex. We haven’t. If anything, we’ve gotten more insatiable. Living together. That statement still felt absurd. Last month I was packing my bags, leaving London and doubting my decision.

Not anymore.

Best. Decision. Ever.

And it’s not just because I’m recovering from the sixth orgasm of the day. It’s because I finally feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be. Making custom jersey designs for other NFL wives and girlfriends while cheering on the only guy who has ever made me feel seen.

Drew rests his forehead against mine, and smiles. “Hold on tight.” I squeeze my legs around him, and wrap my arms around his neck, already knowing his plans as he carries me into the bedroom and throws me on the bed.

I land in the middle of the mattress with a small bounce just as he grabs my ankles and pulls me down the bed until he can rip my thong off.

“I’m not done with you yet.” The threat sends a thrill to my core, which I can’t believe. I surely can’t be ready foranotherround?

Drew peppers kisses on my ankle, dragging them up my thigh before pressing a long kiss against my hip. His fingers play with the jersey I customized, and he gazes up at me with awe. “I don’t think I told you how much I like this fit. It’s your best design yet. You’re so freaking talented, Bella.”

I purse my lips since I don’t know what to say. I find it hard to take compliments, especially from someone as perfect as him. I’d worked hard on my jersey designs, thinking they were only for me, but when the other players partners saw them, they asked if I could design for them too. Then it all just snowballed from there until I got officially licensed by the NFL. I still can’t believe I found something I’m so passionate about in a game I thought I hated for most of my life.

Drew leans down to kiss me slowly. Passionately. Saying more in that kiss than he needs to.

That he’s happy I’m here. That this is where we’re supposed to be. That he loves me as much as I love him.

“I got you something.”

I close my eyes, letting out a small groan. “If it’s another toy, we’re going to need to wait until tomorrow. I don’t think I can keep my eyes open.”

“Seriously? Were those orgasms not enough?”

“It’s just you always want more.”

That makes him grin. “You’re right, and let’s be honest, I’ll probably wake you up in the middle of the night and try for another round.”

I don’t say anything because I know I’ll gladly accept it.

Drew leans over and before I know it, he’s tossing me a small black box. I catch it with ease, comforted in the knowledge that it’s not an engagement ring. We’ve talked about marriage, and I know we both want it eventually, but right now, we’re happy just being with each other. I only just moved in with him a month ago, after all. We want fate to give us a little more time together before making anything official, and getting my family involved…. Again.

“An orgasm is not a gift. It’s mandatory. You will get at least two every day you’re here.” He pulls me closer so we’re facing each other as we lie together. Kissing the top of my head, he says, “Open it. It’s nothing major, just a little something I wanted you to have.”

Flipping the box open, I marvel at the tiny silver necklace staring back at me.

“You got me a football necklace?” I ask confused because it looks like one of those necklaces you get in an egg vending machine.

“Yeah,” he replies with a little tinge on his cheeks. I pull it out of the box, examining it a little more closely, and now I’m more than certain it came from a vending machine. It’s rusting and looks fragile from age.

“I got it the first day we met.”

I look up at him with confusion, still clutching the necklace tightly.

“You mean when we were thirteen and you whacked me in the head?”

“Yup,” he replies with pride.

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