Page 146 of Falling Offsides

Another trill interrupts my reply.

An image this time. It takes a second to load, and when it does, I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I was holding this whole time.

It’s a screenshot. Grainy footage from my bedroom cam. Me. Dead asleep, arm still flung over where she’d been, like I was trying to hold onto her in my dreams. Except it’s not just in my dreams. I still can’t get over the fact she’s leaving soon. My gut churns at the thought of having to let her go. At the notion of watching her leave me. It’s not like Court said she was coming back eventually…

Another message comes through. A photo this time. Not just any photo:a selfie… in front of the tall mirror in my bedroom.

The mad rhythm of my pulse has my hand clenching tighter around Court’s panties as I take in the full length of her ridiculous, sexy body in the selfie. Her hair is tousled and curly. No makeup, no shame, just that gorgeous grin that has my breath sticking in my throat and my marks on her neck, the swell of her tits peeking from beneath my opened shirt, and on her thighs, under the hem of my boxer briefs rolled low on her hips.

She looks… totally mine. Just mine. And I can’t get enough of it.

Court

You destroyed mine, so I stole yours.

Of course she did.I groan in response, palming myself through the sheet with her underwear lining my hand. This girl’s got me switching emotions and feelings like a goddamn psychopath. Court’s the embodiment of keeping me on my goddamn toes and I can’t decide whether I love it or hate it. I just know that the challenge is a rush of adrenaline I’ve never felt before. It runs deeper. Cuts wider. Leaves me needing like nothing before it.

I pull up the doggie cam stream from her apartment, flicking through each camera until I find her. Hair up in a messy bun, still in my shirt and underwear, drinking coffee and smiling down at her phone while she continues typing. A few seconds later she glances up at the camera—at me—with a half-bitten grin she points to her door at the same time as a notification pings at the top of my screen.

Court

Breakfast is served.

When she disappears out of shot towards the hallway leading to her door, I run to mine. Samson chases my heels skidding to a stop as I yank my door open and pause. There’s nothing there. No Courtney, no…

The elevator door pings open and Alfred, the doorman, appears holding a takeout bag from the coffee shop on the pier and a vat-sized cup of coffee.

“For you, Mr. Broussard,” he tells me in his posh British accent.

He sounds and dresses like Alfred Pennyworth, and thanks to Jayden’s ridiculous obsession with him, he’s incredibly helpful and nice to the rest of us. It’s why he agreed to maintain the appearance that I didn’t live here when I told him to pretend I was just a visitor.

“Thank you, Alfie,” I say, shoving the torn panties into the top of the sheet wrapped around me before taking the food bag and coffee from him.

“Glad to see you live here again,” he chuckles as he heads back to the lift and disappears out of sight.

My phone trills with another message as I head inside, back to the kitchen.

Court

Cookout starts in an hour. I’ll meet you outside my door in 40mins.

P.S. Stop watching me and get ready

P.P.S. That sheet looks good on you

P.P.P.S. The lace might look better in your mouth

Fuck. Me.I glance up at the camera, heat flushing across my face, my cock twitching at the memory of her on her kitchen counter with her panties stuffed in her mouth while I lapped up my first real taste of her perfect pussy.

This girl… thiswomanis going to be the fucking death of me, and I’m here for it. For her.

Do I stop watching here? No, I don’t.

The same way I know she’s still watching me. I can feel it. The shadow of her presence crackling on my skin as I inhale the breakfast burrito she had delivered to my door and then clean up the bedroom before getting myself showered and ready for the cookout.

Pulling the silk cap off my hair, I use some of the curl enhancing leave-in conditioner Mom gave me after dinner last night. It used to be my favorite smell. The coconut and shea together remind me of my favorite vacations in Barbados. Spending whole days in my granny’s yard. Although the memories and the scent that reminds me of them still fill me with warmth, I can’t wait to be with Court again, breathing in her subtle flowery scent tinged with a little brine and the earthiness of summer downpours.

That’s my favorite smell now, and as I take a last swig of my coffee, I head out to the living area. Watching as Courtney lightly dabs makeup on her face and neck, concealing my marks before we head to her father’s place. He would drown me in his pool if he so much as imagined the things I did to his daughter last night.

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