Page 18 of Personal Foul

Week 5

Reagan

Garrett walks into my office wearing nothing but those tight ass football pants.

“Mi reina. Ready to be treated like a queen?”

My heart is racing in my chest.

“We can’t. This is my office.”

He walks around the desk, pulling me up into his arms. He presses me against his chest. His very obvious erection pressing against me.

“No one is here. We won’t get caught. I can’t wait. I have to have you.”

I look down to see his pants gone.

“Where are your pants?”

“What pants?”

He picks me up, placing me on my desk. Then he grinds against me. I arch my back, moaning like a damn whore.

“Fuck, I’m going to come if you don’t stop all those noises.” He presses a kiss to my neck.

“I can’t help it. You make me feel so good. Fuck me, Garrett. Fuck me hard.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Within seconds I’m naked, his hard length pressing against my soaking wet core.

“Tell me you want it, reina.”

“I want it. Fuck me.”

He thrusts into me hard, ripping a moan from my throat. He wraps one hand around my neck and into my hair, tugging it as his other hand uses my hip to help him piston inside of me.

It doesn’t take long before I feel that high.

“I’m coming. Fuck, Garrett.”

I wake up gasping, fingers between my legs. I groan. “Seriously?” I sit up and slide out of bed. I walk into the bathroom and turn the shower on. Cold. I look into the mirror. “Did you really have to have a wet fucking dream about him of all people?”

Yeah, but what a dream it was.

I step into the shower and shiver, letting the icy water hit my back before turning it to hot. I stare at the showerhead and contemplate using it to take the ache away. I turn away from the showerhead and start washing my hair.

“I hope he’s as turned on as I am,” I mutter to myself while running conditioner through my hair.

For the past week, Garrett has kept it PG. He has been giving me small touches here and there. A lingering hand on my back when he walks me to my car. A press of a kiss to my cheek before he has to go to practice.

He has been nothing but a perfect gentleman.

I know what he wants. He wants a second date. Then a third. Maybe even a fourth.

I can’t date though. Oh, but I wouldn’t mind rolling in the sheets with the guy.

Him and his stupid rules. I wish he was the same guy I knew in college. Hell, the same guy from New England. Then maybe he could fuck me and move on. Give me that “O” I’m chasing, then go away.

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