Page 110 of Hometown Touchdown
I smirk as I settle between her thighs. “That’s the idea.”
Then I taste her—and I’m done for. She’s sweet, hot, addictive. I lick and suck until her legs are shaking around my head and her hands are fisting in my hair like she’s scared I’ll stop. She comes fast, hips grinding against my face as she gasps my name, back arching off the bed, and I hold her through it, letting her ride it out on my tongue. But I don’t give her a break.
I kiss my way up her body, dragging my mouth over flushed skin, murmuring filth against her neck and jaw. “You taste so fucking good, baby. Gonna have that on my tongue for days.”
She’s breathless, dazed, but pulls me down to her. “Need you inside me. Please.”
“You want this cock, baby?” I rasp, dragging the head of it through her slick folds. “Want me to fuck you like I’m claiming you?”
Her eyes go wide—need and love and a thousand unspoken things flickering behind them. “Yes,” she breathes. “God, yes.”
I fist myself and start to press in, slow and steady, eyes locked on her face. I make it about halfway when I feel her body tense beneath me—just slightly, but I don’t miss it. The tight pull, the way her expression falters.
“Knox?” she whispers, her voice small but clear.
I stop immediately. “Talk to me, baby.”
She bites her bottom lip. “Can you grab the lube?”
I nod, already reaching for the bottle in the drawer. “Of course. We take our time,” I say, pouring some into my hand and warming it between my fingers. I meet her eyes again, softer now. “This doesn’t mean anything’s wrong. You know that, right?”
She nods, but there’s that flicker of something, shame, maybe, trying to sneak in around the edges. I lean in and kiss her, deep and slow, while my hand moves between us, spreading the lube over her, over me.
“You’re perfect,” I murmur against her lips. “And I love taking care of you like this.”
I push in again, slower this time. She relaxes beneath me, and when I bottom out, we both freeze—chests heaving, bodies pressed tight. Her walls flutter around me like velvet, like her body was just waiting for the right rhythm, the right tenderness.
And fuck, I nearly come from the feel of her alone.
“Fuck, Brynn,” I groan, struggling for control. “You’re so perfect. Are you doing okay?”
She gasps, her nails biting into my shoulders. “I’m so good. Don’t stop.”
And I don’t. I pull back and drive into her again, harder this time, setting a rhythm that has her moaning under me like I’m everything she’s been waiting for. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper. My mouth finds hers—sloppy and possessive. I kiss her like I’m trying to memorize her. Like I’ve got something to prove.
The rhythm builds—faster, rougher. Our bodies crash together; her hands claw at my back. My teeth sink into her neck. She’s panting, crying out, saying my name over and over like it’s the only thing tethering her to earth.
“I love you,” I rasp against her throat, thrusting harder.
Her voice cracks. “I love you so much, Knox.”
I drive into her like I never plan to stop. My body’s on fire, pushed right to the edge. “Come for me again,” I pant. “Let me feel you break.”
And she does.
She convulses around me, body shuddering as she screams my name, her climax tearing through her like a wave. I curse, slam into her one last time, and fall with her—burying myself deep and spilling into her with a groan that tears straight from my chest.
We collapse in a tangled mess of limbs, sweat, and sheets, both of us wrecked, both of us breathless. The only sound is the whir of the ceiling fan and the soft rise and fall of her breath against my neck.
I roll onto my side, pulling her against my chest, not even bothering to grab the blanket. She’s warm and soft and exactly where she belongs.
She rests her head on my arm, one leg draped over mine, her fingers idly tracing a line down my ribs.
“So,” she says eventually, voice still rough. “Is this where you tell me I got the starting position?”
I laugh, low and loose. “Oh, baby. You’re team captain. MVP. Franchise player. All of it.”
She snorts, then kisses the center of my chest like she can’t help it. “I like this version of post-game interviews.”
