Page 52 of Dirty Pucking Player

I bite my lip to prevent the moan threatening to work its way up my throat from slipping out and giving me away.

Heroin.

Bash Fury isn’t crack. He’s ten times worse. He’s heroin. One hit is all you need to become addicted. And I sure as hell am.

To his touch.

To his kiss.

To everything about him, even his damn arrogant grin.

* * *

BASH

She’s like putty in my hands.

Her soft, warm body sags against mine.

Her legs shake.

Her fingers tighten at my sides.

Her lips move greedily against my own.

The way she’s responding to me tells me everything I need to know even though she won’t say the words.

Greer may be fighting a battle between her attraction to me and what a good girl would do, but she’s losing against that little voice in her head telling her to stop.

She’s spent the last two weeks thinking about me just as much as I’ve been thinking about her. Reliving every moment we spent together that night. Reliving every touch, every kiss, and every orgasm. Touching herself thinking about it the same way I’ve been stroking my rock hard cock each time even a flicker of memory floats through my head.

And the longer I kiss her, the more I know I’m making the right decision.

Not to walk away.

Because I can’t. Not when she occupies every waking thought and fills every dream when I finally rest my head on my pillow at night.

Caleb asked me where this was going, and I didn’t have a fucking clue. Even after thinking about it for two weeks, I had no idea what would happen between us when I got back.

If I’d listened to my head, nothing would have happened. We would have gone back to coach and player, hopefully with some of the tension between us relieved so we could remain professional. But fuck if I can remember the last time I listened to my head.

The longer I was away, the more I realized that this thing with Greer didn’t need to be one-time only. We both know what’s happening here, and if we want to use each other to scratch an itch and offer relief during a very stressful time, why the hell wouldn’t we?

Especially after having experienced how extraordinary we are together.

I need a repeat.

We can let this runs its course, have fun for as long as it stays that way. And I want nothing more than to sink into her welcoming heat right now. But I can see she’s utterly exhausted. She doesn’t need another marathon of sex tonight.

What she needs is to be taken care of. Adored. Worshipped.

It’s not something I can claim to be very good at, but I can damn well try.

I reluctantly drag my mouth away from hers, and her head follows me up, trying to keep her lips pressed to mine.

Her eyes fly open, and her clouded green gaze screams in confusion. “What?”

I chuckle and press another quick kiss to her lips while squeezing her tightly to me so she can feel my very eager cock pressed between us and doesn’t think I’m not just as interested as she is. “Hold that thought.” I lower her down to the bed, and she sits there staring at me with her mouth open. I lean over her and drop my palms on the mattress, boxing her in with my arms. “You’re exhausted, Coach. It’s been a long road trip for you, and we have a game tomorrow. You need to relax. I’m going to go draw you a bath. We’re making use of the massive whirlpool tub in this suite tonight.”

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