Page 46 of Fool Me Once

Smith: No prob, Firefly. So, look, tomorrow’s game is going to be one of our biggest of the season. Before it starts, walk down to the plexiglass, and I’ll skate over.

Smith: You know, for publicity reasons.

Nerves bubble in my stomach. I know we agreed to this fake dating thing a few days ago, but we haven’t put anything into action yet. This will be the first time that we’re putting it out there that we’re an item. Well, an alleged item.

I can’t help but worry that it will become too real. I’m scared that the line between what’s fake and what’s real will blur and my heart will get confused. But Smith is right; this is what has to be done.

Me: Okay, sounds good. Good luck tomorrow.

Me: Oh, and thank you for my surprise.

Smith: Anything for you. Have a fun girls’ night. Be safe.

My heart speeds up, and warmth spreads across my chest. Since I moved in with him, he has done nothing but shown me the utmost respect and been so kind and thoughtful. Like when he surprised me a few days ago with the best chocolate croissant and éclair I’d ever had.

Smith: Oh yeah, check the front pocket of your luggage.

My eyes narrow, and I’m thankful his sister is busy talking to the other girls because that message has me rushing to my room. And when I unzip the bag and pull out a jersey with the nameSawyeron the back and his number below, there’s a tingly feeling that washes over my body. And, yeah … I don’t think that feeling is so normal when it comes to friends.

Me: Nicely played.

Smith: I know. I’m smooth like that.

Smith: You’re lucky I promised to be respectful; otherwise, you’d be getting a few dirty-minded messages right now. See you soon, beautiful.

Just from the worddirty, my stomach does a flip, and butterflieserupt in my belly. And the craziest part is … I’m not even feeling upset over it.

I shouldn’t be grinning this hard over the simple fact that Gemma didn’t text back with the middle-finger emoji or the wordsfuck off, but, Christ, I can’t help it because … progress.

Sitting in my hotel room, I feel my cock stir, just imagining Gemma in my jersey with nothing else. I’ve been so good and so respectful because she’s been through a lot, but it’s been hard, and my cock has taken a beating—literally—because all I can do is think about fucking her again.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I imagine her walking into the hotel room, a sexy smirk on her lips as she struts toward me. Unbuttoning my jeans, I unzip my fly and pull them down just enough to grip my hard, aching cock in my hand, thankful as hell that I got my own room this trip and didn’t have to share with my teammates. I need this release to fucking function.

“Hey,” she says, licking her plump lips.

Her hair is tousled, and her smooth legs are out, making me want to run my palms up them.

Pushing me back on the bed, she straddles me, giving me a perfect peek at her pussy. I reach between her thighs, brushing my knuckles across her heat.

“No panties, Gem?”

“Why would I need panties when I came in here to sit on your face?” Her lips turn up, and she reaches down, running her hand over the bulge in my pants. “You’re so hard. It’s like you knew I was coming to see you.”

“Yeah, I’ve been waiting for this moment for six years.” I swallow before lying on my back. “Sit on my face, baby. Let me eat that pussy till it quivers on my tongue.”

I stroke my cock harder, with the image of her crawling up my body.

“Grip the headboard, Firefly, and ride.”

“You don’t need to tell me how to get myself off, Smith,” she growls before lifting herself onto my face.

She tastes so fucking good. It’s like eating your favorite thing that you haven’t had in forever, making it even better. She’s soaked, dripping on my chin as she begins to bounce.

I pump my cock harder and faster, tipping my chin toward the ceiling, as I picture her body above me, riding me like she’s at the fucking rodeo.

“Ahh,” she moans, throwing her head back, making the jersey pool on my shoulders.

Her hair is dancing on my knuckles, so I fist it and give it a tug.

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