Page 87 of Goalie's Obsession

I grip her hips and keep fucking her through it, even as her thighs start to shake and her slick, creamy release coats my cock. She pulses around me so tight and wet I nearly lose control—nearly.

Until she moans my name again, desperate and wrecked, and I’m gone.

“Fuck, Lucy.” I bury myself deep, hips jerking once, twice—then I explode inside her with a growl, filling her with everything I’ve been holding back. Her pussy milks me like itknowswhat I need, clenching and fluttering, dragging every last drop out of me.

I swear, I black out for a second.

When I finally come down, I collapse forward onto my elbows, chest heaving. Lucy’s sprawled beneath me, her body trembling with the aftershocks. My come slowly leaks from her pussy, slick between her thighs.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I kiss her shoulder, then her cheek, then roll onto my side and pull her back against my chest.

We lie there, tangled up in sweat and breath and a whole lot ofwhat the fuck just happened. She’s warm and flushed and glowing in the soft hotel light.

“Think Ethan sensed that from Iron Ridge?” I mumble into her hair.

She snorts. “He probably woke up in a cold sweat.”

"Because of the hangover or—"

Lucy slaps me and I grin and roll onto my back, reaching blindly for the nightstand.

“Here,” I say, snagging the peach rings and holding one between my fingers like it’s sacred. “Emergency sugar.”

She turns her head and bites it from my hand without blinking, chewing with the slow satisfaction of someone who’s been properly fucked and fed.

I watch her, dazed and a little in love before checking the time on my phone and groaning.

“Shit. I’ve got twenty minutes to make it to practice."

Lucy snorts into the pillow, wishes me luck as I tug on a clean shirt, still half-watching her bask in the sheets like a very smug, post-sex goddess.

Then my phone buzzes. I glance down.

“Natalie says you’re ignoring her like a toxic ex. Also wants to know if you’re ready for dress fittings, or if she should caffeinate you first.”

Lucy groans and rolls to the other side, dragging the sheet with her. “Tell her I vote for in-room fittings. After last night, there's no way I’m dealing with paparazzi today.”

“Already done,” I say, walking over to her side of the bed. “Told her your suite is now a pop-up couture salon.”

I grab her coffee from the tray, bring it over, and leave it on the nightstand. Then I smooth the sheets up around her like she’s royalty and I’ve just personally invented the concept of luxury bedding.

“Get some sleep, Lucy Lou,” I say, brushing her hair back from her face. “I’ll come back with locker room gossip.”

Her lips curve without opening her eyes. “Gossip? Like what?”

I grin, leaning down to kiss her temple. “Like which rookie shaved a dick into his leg hair and blamed it on the fact that he vaped too much in high school."

Her eyes pop open, and she snorts. “Wait—what?”

“Don't worry. I’ll show you the photos later.” I grab my gear and sling the strap over my shoulder. “Try not to miss me too much.”

“Impossible,” she mumbles, already half-asleep.

I chuckle, grab my gear, and head for the door—but I stop before I open it. I turn back, watching her melt into the pillow like everything in her body just exhaled.

Yeah. That’s the look.

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