Page 93 of The Game Plan

“You okay, baby?”

“I’m so tired,” she says. She rubs at her forehead. “Can we just go home?”

“Of course.” I hand over her coat, helping her shrug into it. My fingers linger over the neckline. She shivers.

I offer my hand, and she takes it, threading our fingers together. We head to the portico, where we hail the first cab we see.

She doesn’t waste time, snuggling up to me. I can hardly get my seatbelt on before she’s curling up against my side, her arm slung around my waist. She rests her head on my shoulder, and I drop a kiss on the top of her head. She tilts her face up, and I give her a light kiss.

Sam deepens the kiss immediately, slipping her tongue into my mouth to tangle with mine. I can’t hold back my groan. I thread my fingers through her hair, pulling her close.

“Hey, now,” the cab driver says. “Not in the car.”

Once the cab reaches campus, we have a half mile trek through Athlete’s Village to get home. I don’t care about the bitterly cold wind or the light rain sprinkling down on us, not when I have Sam’s hand in mine.

She pauses when we reach her house. “Your place or mine?”

I shrug. “It’s all the same to me.”

With a coy smile, she leads me up the stairs to her house. Her room is on the second floor, first door on the right. Her window overlooks the limited expanse of the side yard.

It’s only the second time I’ve been here. The first and only time I was here, she wasn’t feeling well. I’m glad she’s doing better now.

Sam strips out of her coat and scarf, leaving her in the thin little scrap of lace she calls a dress. She pulls her hair over her shoulder and looks up at me from beneath her lashes.

“Can you help me with my zipper?”

I cross the room in two strides to get to her. I pull her into my arms, pinning her back to my front. My hands trace the curve of her hips.

The first kiss lands on the side of her neck. The second is just below her ear. Sam sighs and sags against me. She moves my hand from her hip to her breast.

My cock kicks in my suit pants. I nose my way around the shell of her ear, breathing in her warm vanilla and sweet cherry scent. She smells good enough to eat.

My clumsy fingers find the tiny tab of her zipper. I inch the zip down, down, down, exposing more and more of her sweet flesh.

She steps out of the dress, letting it crumple to the floor.

Sam stands before me in her matching bra and panties and her sky high heels. She looks up at me from beneath her lashes.

“How you doing, big guy?”

My hands work at my tie, pulling it loose. Shrugging out of my coat and jacket, I slowly unbutton my shirt. She wants to see me, all of me. She doesn’t care what I look like.

“Could be better,” I say lightly, and she raises her eyebrows in silent question. I pull my belt through the loops. “Could be inside you.”

She grins. “That can be arranged.”

“Wear the shoes,” I tell her, before I shuck my pants and stalk back over to her. I kiss her, threading my hands through her curls and pulling her flush against me. Her chest brushes against mine, her belly brushes against mine. I can’t get enough of her curves. I can’t stop touching her.

Limbs tangle as we fall onto the bed. She kicks the blankets down out of our way.

I break the kiss to make my way down her body. Pressing a kiss to her fabric-covered mound, she sighs and tilts her hips up. I nose aside her sodden underwear, and I wrap my lips around her clit and suck. Hard.

Sam moans, arching her back off the bed. Her breath is coming in short, rapid bursts.

I pin the fabric out of my way as I lick up her slit, gathering the evidence of her desire. She tastes like honey and sex. I can’t get enough. I could do this all day. Her fingers thread through my hair. This time she doesn’t direct me. She lets me go to work. I slip a finger inside her tight, wet heat, and her walls clamp down around me.

Laving my tongue over her clit, I suckle the sensitive bud as her moans increase in pitch and her hands scrabble at the sheets. The sky high stilettos dig into my back, scraping my skin in a delicious burn that’s sure to leave a mark. I don’t care. Her walls flutter around me and she throws her head back, letting out a long, loud groan. A burst of wetness coats my already slick fingers.

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