Page 40 of Pucking Dirty

"He doesn't." I pause before sighing. "I chickened out before I could tell him about us, though, Nash. He got all suspicious and cranky and I just…lost my nerve. I'm such a coward."

"Hey." He pulls me into his arms, his lips brushing mine. "You've got brass balls bigger than Micah's, remember? Don't talk about yourself like that."

"I do have brass balls," I whisper, smiling despite myself. "And I am going to tell him. As soon as you guys get back, I'm telling him that we're together and he can just deal with it."

"We can tell him together."

"No, we can't." I touch his cheek, gratitude swirling through me. "This is something I have to do myself."

"You mean I have to let you slay dragons by yourself?"

"Afraid so, Whatley."

"Well, goddamn." He bends suddenly, scooping me up into his arms. "Guess I better get you home and prepare you for battle then. You can't win a war without training."

"Yeah, you think you can train me, huh?"

"Oh, I can definitely train you. We'll start with endurance." He smirks down at me, a dark promise reflecting in his gaze. "And then we'll see how much torture you can take before you break, sweet little Emilia."

"Not much," I moan, pressing my legs together as my clit throbs in anticipation.

"Guess we'll see, won't we?"

Chapter Eight

Emilia

"Nash," I moan as he presses me up against the side of the bus early the next morning, his body pinning me in place as he attacks my throat with stinging bites.

He grinds his dick against my ass, growling softly. "Still time to put you in my bag, princess," he breathes, nipping my ear. "You can be naked and waiting for me in my room after the game tomorrow."

I whimper, heat blowing through me in waves.

"I can feast on you in celebration." He licks a line down my throat, slipping a hand between us to palm my pussy. "You know that's what you want."

"Nash," I whimper, my knees threatening to buckle under his sensual onslaught. Good lord, there is no stopping this man when he's determined to get his way. He's sex on legs. Or in skates. Whatever. The point is, he's too hot to handle.

"Whatley! Where the fuck are you?" my dad shouts from the other side of the bus.

"Goddammit," Nash growls, pressing his face up against me. He takes a steadying breath before placing a soft kiss to my throat. "Guess that's my cue to let you go."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You better be waiting for me in bed when I get home on Saturday."

"Maybe."

"I mean it, Emilia. I want you naked and dripping wet, ready for my cock." He nips my throat again. "I think I'll keep you on it for the rest of the weekend."

"We'll see," I say.

"Yeah, we will see," he growls, spinning me around to kiss me breathless. When we're both panting, he breaks away with a groan, pressing his forehead to mine. "Goddamn, I hate leaving you."

"It's not my favorite thing either," I admit, my heart feeling like it's in a vise. "But I do enjoy watching you walk away, Whatley. That ass is a thing of beauty."

He doesn't smile. Instead, he groans again, his lips brushing mine. "Forty-eight hours," he mutters like it's a lifetime. "Forty-eight fucking hours."

"Whatley!" my dad shouts again. "Don't piss me off, kid. Time to get your ass on this bus!"

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