Page 16 of Game Face

She brings her hands up over her head, and I take her hint, gathering up her T-shirt before lifting it over her head. My eyes drop to her perfect round tits. I love every curve of her body, but the way her breasts alone make me hard is some kind of sorcery. As her hands fall to the button of my jeans, I move mine to her hard nipples, rubbing a thumb over each as she works to unbutton then unzip the front of my jeans.

“What do you want?” I love asking her this. I love that she tells me.

“This,” she says, tugging my jeans down my hips enough to free my cock from my boxer briefs.

She smiles up at me as her hand wraps around the base, then she leans forward and takes me deep in her mouth. The sudden shock of it nearly knocks me off balance. As it is, my head falls back and my eyes roll.

“Fuck me,” I groan.

“You will,” she says, sucking me as her hand slowly strokes my length.

I open my eyes to the ceiling and focus on the feel of her soft lips as they close around me and slide toward my body, her tongue swirling around my tip.

“Yeah, that fucking part is going to have to happen now,” I say, ready to come already.

I drop my chin and take a step back so my dick falls from her mouth. The way her lips glisten, the bottom one swollen—plump—yeah, this isn’t going to last long.

I nod toward the bed, and a devilish smile pulls up the corners of her mouth as she leans onto her elbows and backs away from me.

I step out of my jeans and boxers before crawling on the bed, caging her hips between my arms. I kiss her tummy, tonguing the diamond stud she wore tonight in her belly button.

“This one’s my favorite,” I say, looking up at her with hazed eyes.

“I know,” she smirks. “I was hoping you’d see it, along with those.”

I drop my gaze back to her pelvis as I slide the sweatpants down her hips. There isn’t much to the delicate panties other than some intricate deep red lace, but against her milky skin, it’s like a Christmas bow wrapped around snow.

“These are new,” I comment.

“Mmm, yeah.” She writhes under my weight. I tug her pants lower, pressing my mouth over the silk strip that covers the thin line of hair above her pussy. I nip at the fabric with my teeth, pulling it away slightly before growling and looking up at her.

Her head falls back with laughter.

“You’re like a bull, Wyatt Stone. So predictable. All it takes to get you to do what I want is wear some red.”

She’s not wrong

“And what do you want?” I ask once again.

She lifts her head just enough that her eyes meet mine, and her expression grows serious.

“I want you to fuck me.”

My cock flexes at her demand. I roll the panties over her hips, and she works them down her body, parting her legs as I sit on my knees between them. I guide my cock into her fast, driving deep inside as I brace myself above her. The gold chain she bought for my last birthday dangles against my chin, and I take it in my mouth, giving me something to focus on other than coming. I need this to last. She feels too good.

Peyton grasps at the blanket beneath her, her fingers clutching it in her fists and pulling it close as I’m relentless with my hips. She lifts to meet every thrust, our bodies slamming into one another with a sense of urgency until her mouth falls open and she begins to whimper.

I move my right hand to her ass, pulling her up and into me every time I rock into her. She wraps her legs around my waist, urging me deeper, so I lift up on my knees and hold her hips as we fuck. We’re so loud there’s zero chance that Tasha and Whiskey aren’t hearing this. Hell, Bryce might be hearing us from his truck miles away. Good, I hope he does.

“Yes, baby. Please, baby. Wyatt . . . oh, my God, Wyatt . . .” Peyton’s body quivers as her orgasm takes over. I hold on long enough for her to fall limp from overstimulation, then I pull out and my cum covers her belly. I empty myself on her skin, painting her with proof that she is mine and only mine. Like a fucking animal. And when I fall onto the bed next to her, our arms and legs tangled, her hair stuck to the side of my chest, she rolls her head to meet my drunken stare.

“There’s my caveman,” she coos.

I pound my fists to my chest and smile on the side closest to her. She giggles, and it’s the greatest sound in the world.

Chapter Eight

Idon’t feel bad at all for leaving the boys to do the heavy lifting. And I don’t feel bad for not feeling bad. I tried to tell them that we should get up early enough to beat the morning heat and so I could help before practice, but Wyatt wanted to sleep in. And Whiskey was snoring so loudly, it woke Tasha through the walls, and she went home to sleep off the rest of her hangover.

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