Page 54 of The Game Plan

Without delay, he takes the condom from my hand and rips it open. He rolls the protection down his length and fists his cock a few times.

“I’ve never done it in this position before,” he admits, guiding his cock to my entrance.

My eyes fall closed, and I flex my hips as he slides into me. He’s still too far away. He sinks in another inch or two. He’s breathing hard, his broad chest rising and falling. His round belly brushes against mine in the best possible way.

“Miles…” I arch my back, bearing down as he slides deeper into me, until he’s buried balls deep.

He falls forward, propping himself up on his hands. My hand on his cheek guides him back to me for a messy kiss, all tongues and teeth. I can’t breathe. I don’t need to breathe. I just need more of this.

He pulls back a little and thrusts back in. His hair falls into his face, and I brush it away. He leans his cheek into the contact.

I lose myself in the rhythm, in the push and pull of it. We’re both active participants. He feels so good inside of me, surrounding me.

Sliding my hand between our bodies, I rub at my clit. Miles lets out a growl and eases back so he can work a hand between us.

“I want to—” He’s panting, breathing hard. Sweat covers his forehead and chest. “I want to be the one.”

“It takes teamwork.” Taking his hand, I show him where to touch me and how much pressure to use. I need a different kind of touch than before. He picks it up quickly.

Between the intense friction and the feel of him inside me, surrounding me, it doesn’t take long for me to fall to pieces. He thrusts inside of me two, three times, and then he comes with a shout that I muffle with a kiss.

He sags on top of me, his belly pressing into mine. I let out a soft grunt as I take the brunt of his weight. It feels delicious, his immense bulk pinning me down. His cock twitches inside of me, and we both groan.

He’s breathing hard and sweating. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”

“Like what?”

He kisses me softly, like he’s memorizing the moment.

“Perfect.”

Chapter nineteen

Miles

ImeetwithCoachfirst thing Monday morning. Not even the threat of getting kicked out of school can bring me down today. Sam and I spent all day in bed yesterday, only leaving to get food, and then quickly returning to get naked again.

It wasn’t all an endless sex fest. We spent a lot of time curled up in my bed, talking and getting to know one another. She told me about her softball teammates and her sorority sisters and growing up in the suburbs in Mississippi. Haltingly, I talked about growing up with two younger sisters, about living in the city across the street from my cousins, about anything that popped into my head. She didn’t get frustrated with me. She didn’t try to jump in and dominate the conversation. She just listened, like my words were important to her.

I’ve never had that before. Sure, my parents always asked about my day at school and how practice went, but they asked that of all of us. They were too busy taking care of my sisters and with their own lives to sit down andtalk. Talk about nothing, talk about everything. I know they care about me. I know they love me. That doesn’t mean they don’t have their own lives to worry about.

Sam doesn’t make me feel like I’m wasting her time. She doesn’t try to hurry me along when I can’t find the words. She’s there for me, whenever I’m ready. And eventually, I’ll be ready.

She makes me feel like there’s more to me than just football. Like I can have more in my life. I can be more than another dumb jock trying to string two sentences together. I can have anything I want.

I want her.

I also don’t want to get kicked out of school. I want to keep playing football. Sure, I’ll do my time. I’ll serve whatever punishment they assign. But I don’t want this to be the end for me and Newton.

I punched a guy. Yes, I was provoked, but that doesn’t matter. I was the one that made the decision to break his face. I felt the crack of cartilage beneath my fist, and I didn’t stop. I saw the stream of blood pouring out of his face, and I didn’t stop. If they hadn’t pulled me off of him, I’d still be punching him. Nobody talks about women that way. Nobody talks about Sam that way.

I fucking hate O’Rourke, but I hate what he said more. I hate that he thinks it’s okay to talk about people like that, that it’s okay to target people and pick on their insecurities and spew blatant lies about them. I hate him. I hate everything about him.

Coach isn’t optimistic. “You broke the honor code, son, and you were filmed doing it.”

“I understand.” I fold my hands in my lap and stare at my feet.

“I don’t care what he said about your momma or your girlfriend, fighting is never the answer.”

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