Page 60 of Playing for the Hat Trick
Jason: Maybe I want you to fuck up my life. Maybe I want to be the exception.
Scottie: Exceptions aren’t a thing. We’re working on your recovery plan.
Jason: Then I’m about to have the healthiest fucking knee in the country.
Jason: Then I’m about to have the healthiest fucking knee in the country.
Scottie: You really think I don’t know what I’m doing to you when I touch you?
Jason: So you do use touch on purpose.
Scottie: I know exactly how my hands feel on a man’s thighs. Especially when I slow down and press my thumbs right where the tension peaks. It’s so they can release tension, not for sex, Tate.
Jason: Fuck. That’s not helping my self-control.
Scottie: :rolling-eyes: emoji. You’re already hard, aren’t you?
Jason: I’ve been hard since the eval. I already told you.
Scottie: You talk a lot of game for someone who was shaking during hamstring stretches.
Jason: You sat next to me with your knees brushing mine. You breathed on my neck. That was tactical warfare.
Scottie: Are you trying to sext me, Tate?
Jason: Is it working?
Scottie: You’re playing with fire, and what if you don’t know how to handle it and get burned.
Jason: Stop torturing me, Ella Crawford.
Scottie: You think that was torture? Imagine me kneeling between your legs right now. Barely touching you. Just dragging my mouth over your cock, slow and mean.
Jason: Fuck. Are you trying to kill me?
Scottie: No. I’m trying to make you come so hard you forget your name.
Jason: Say more.
Scottie: I’d suck on the head first. Real soft. Just enough pressure to make your hips twitch. Then I’d take you deeper. Hold you at the back of my throat while you curse and grip my hair like you’re losing it.
Jason: Scottie.
Scottie: You’d be so fucking loud for me. I wouldn’t stop until you begged. Not until you said you were close, and I told you to hold it just a little longer.
Jason: You’re going to give me a goddamn aneurysm.
Scottie: You started this.
Jason: And now I’m going to finish it. With my fist. Thinking about your mouth. Your hands. The way you’d look on top of me, riding me until I couldn’t even breathe.
Scottie: Would you come inside me? Filling me?
Jason: I’ll do anything you want, baby. Anything.
Scottie: You talk a lot, Tate.
Jason: You know what the real problem is . . .besides the fact I might come in my boxers.
