Page 74 of Tight End

“Eric and I are broken up,” I said firmly. “We’re still colleagues, though, which means working together. But there’s nothing else going on. I promise.”

Something shimmered in Brody’s eyes. Something close to hope. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then took my hand in his.

“If you two aren’t together anymore…”

“We can’t,” I insisted. “I’m sorry, but we can’t just—”

“No.”

The word was sharp and cut me off with its intensity.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he insisted. “I can’t go around pretending like I don’t have feelings for you. I can’t act like I haven’t spent every waking moment thinking about you. I can’t pretend that trivia night with you wasn’t one of the best nights of my life, and I sure as hell can’t ignore how you make me feel. Because Taylor? You make me feel like, for the first time in my life, I could be truly happy with someone.”

He leaned torwards me, and my back hit the closet wall. “I can’t do it, Taylor,” he said, minty breath mixing with mine. “I can’t pretend anymore. It would kill me to keep trying. So I’m not going to.”

Brody crushed his lips against mine. In that moment, that electric moment of connection, I felt all of his passion and eagerness and hunger for me, a volcano of emotion raging inside of the powerful man. My own feelings rose up to mirror them: hunger for Brody’s lips as they churned against mine, desire for his V-shaped chest that was as hard and warm as sun-soaked rocks on a beach. And a deep, insatiable craving to finally do what we had wanted to do all this time.

My hands explored his body for the first time, touching and squeezing the corded ropes of muscle that comprised his physical presence. Brody folded me into his arms, his own palms sliding down my spine and tugging at my shirt, untucking it from my shorts so he could press his bare fingers against the skin of my lower back, pulling me into him like he never wanted to let go.

But it wasn’t good enough; none of it was even close to adequate for what we both wanted, so I ripped at the fireman suspenders so that the baggy pants could fall to the closet floor, revealing the tight boxer-briefs underneath. He pawed at my clothes just as desperately, unbuckling and unbuttoning and then ripping the zipper of my shorts down so fast that it was a wonder he didn’t break them, and all the while his lips remained locked onto mine, a first kiss that went on and on as we undressed.

Conscious thought didn’t exist in those torrid moments; we surrendered to what our bodies demanded, driven by emotion and desire. The heat of Brody’s bulge straining to break free. The curl of his fingers up into my panties. The way his tongue forced its way into my mouth, suppressing the soft moans that came up from deep within my lungs like the first gasp of air.

And as soon as my clothes were on the floor, Brody lifted me into his arms like I weighed nothing. He paused to yank down his underwear, and I felt his crown brush against me from underneath. And then, with his immense strength, he lowered me onto him.

I let out a groan of ecstasy as he filled me completely. The sensation was more than just physical; I felt it in my soul, as if I had never known what completeness was until he was inside of me. Brody gritted his teeth and sighed with his own pleasure.

“Gotta keep it down,” he whispered.

“If you keep feeling like this?” I replied. “No promises.”

He smirked.

My back hit the wall as he pushed forward, adjusting his grip on my ass for better leverage as he began to drive up into me. I squeezed my legs around him and kissed his lips again, both to muffle my cries of pleasure and because his lips were too intoxicating to ignore.

Everything fell away while we made love. All the stress of the fall semester at Utah. The drama from the cheerleading team and my fear of being kept in the back row. The on-field troubles Brody had been dealing with. None of it mattered. The world had narrowed to the mindless drive of our hungry bodies.

This angle, upright in Brody’s arms, was so intense it was almost more than I could handle. The powerful sensation grew inside of me, especially as Brody’s fingers dug into the meat of my ass, clinging to me with need. The pleasure swirled and collected into something more powerful…

Suddenly, there was a noise outside the closet.

Brody froze, cock bottoming out inside of me. We held our breath and listened. Voices in the hall, light and laughing. If they were here to get their coats…

“I want to see what kind of car he drives,” came a woman’s voice muffled by the door.

“The door is locked,” said another woman.

“I can see through the window. Oh! What is that?”

“That’s a Tesla Roadster.”

Brody and I stared at each other as we listened. The women weren’t going to barge in on us; they were just snooping around Dallas’s place. We just had to wait for them to leave.

With his hands still gripping my ass possessively, Brody slowly withdrew himself from me. I wondered if he was going to put me down in case they did open the closet door, but then instead of pulling out completely, he drove his cock into me again.

“What are you doing?” I asked, voice hardly more than a breath.

He only grinned that charming grin at me while continuing his movements. He was excruciatingly slow, gradually filling me one tiny millimeter at a time. Like he was trying to savor every single nerve ending individually.

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