Page 59 of Not Just a Trick Play

A playful glint sparks in her eyes. “I thought the game was all about…tackling.”

I chuckle, my hand drifting down to the hem. “There’s more to it than brute force, Sweets.” Slowly, I lift the fabric, revealing inch after inch of her smooth, warm skin. Her breath catches as I pull the shirt over her head, letting it fall to the floor. She isn’t wearing a bra.Fuuuck.

“It’s about strategic play, and every touch inches us closer to a score.” My fingers shake as they resume their journey south, down her ribcage and ghosting past her belly button, following a deliberate path.

When I reach the waistband of her skirt, I pause, a smirk playing on my lips. “Oh, look, an interception.” I drop to my knees, my gaze never leaving hers. “But a good player always finds another maneuver.” My hands slide up her thighs, sneaking under the fabric, teasing it down from the inside. She steps out of it, now standing in nothing but black panties, stockings, and shoes.

A low growl escapes me, my chest tightening with the raw need to have her.

I press my mouth to the strip of bare skin right under the lace, and I breathe her in, barely checking the urge to rush. My hands glide up and down the curve of her thighs, the tension in her building with each stroke until she’s trembling.

I finally edge beneath the fabric, prompting a sharp inhale from her. “And here we are…” She shudders as I graze her entrance, sliding my fingers over her damp folds. “The end zone.” I apply slow, deliberate pressure to her clit, sending a fresh wave of tremors through her.

I pull back and hook my thumbs under the edges of her panties, inching them down her legs. She’s already wet, her body betraying how much she wants this.

I take her in, unwrapped, exposed, and waiting. “Now,” I murmur, voice thick with arousal, “there are lots of ways to win. It’s all about identifying the best plays for the situation.”

My mouth brushes her inner thigh. “And trust me… I’ve got all the right moves.” Then, I lift one leg over my shoulder, making my intentions clear.

“You don’t have to,” Amelia says, hands flying to my shoulders, halting me. I look up, catching the uncertainty in her gaze. “This…ah, is new to me.”

For a second, my teasing demeanor drops. “Pencil Dick never went down on you?” I’m trying—and I think failing—to suppress my incredulity. Lightly, I trace over her sensitive flesh, soothing her.

“It just seemed…unnecessary?”

“I’m not sure what the fuck he was about, but I promise you, Sweets, it’s very necessary to me—but only if you want me to.” Her eyes lock on me, as if still gauging how sincere I am.

She dips her head in the slightest nod. I lean in. And when I take a long, languid lap, she moans. I start working her over. I flick my tongue, needing more. Fuck, how the hell does she taste so sweet?

Her thighs quiver around me, and I push her further, sucking gently, then harder, until she’s writhing. Her hips buck, and I grip her tighter, holding her in place as I bury my face between her legs, tasting her, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

“Jake,” she gasps, her voice shaky. “Please…”

“Next lesson,” I murmur against her skin. “Football’s all about endurance.” Deliberately, I slow down even though herbreathy little sounds make me want to devour her. I could do this for hours, listen to her forever.

“I don’t know if I can.” She presses a hand over her mouth to hide her cries, but we can’t have that. I catch her hands and bring them down to my head. “You can.”

Her fingers tangle in my hair, jerking almost roughly, and I love being the person who makes her lose control. The little pulls urge me on, and I devour her, relishing the way she moves her hips, pushing them toward my mouth as if she can’t get enough. Fucking perfect.

And then she’s coming, convulsing as her orgasm crashes over her. I keep going, coaxing her through it, gripping her tight as she rides out every last ripple of pleasure. Each little sound she lets out shoots straight to my dick, and it’s a miracle I’m still holding it together.

She collapses against me, breathless and spent. I lift her into my arms and carry her into the room, settling her on the bed before coming to hover over her flushed and panting body.

“That’s just the first down, baby.” I grin, brushing my lips along her throat. “But we don’t stop there. The next play is already in motion. The goal? Another touchdown. Let’s see how many more we can rack up.”

Her chest heaves, each breath coming fast and shallow. “I…might need a time-out,” she says with a shaky laugh.

I smirk. “Time-out? Sorry, sweetheart, the clock’s still running, and we’re just getting started.” I slide a hand between her thighs again.

She gasps softly, her body responding despite her exhaustion. “How will I keep it all straight?

“We’ll practice.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

AMELIA

And we practice constantly.

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