23. Getting Into Game-Shape
23
Tessa
“What…in the actual…fuck?”
I climb from my car, my mouth hanging open as I stare at my house. At least, I think it’s my house. My eyes dart over to the house next door, and I spot Riggs on his porch, his chair kicked back to lean against the wall as he sips on a beer. Lifting a hand, he gives me a jaunty wave. I respond with a pointed middle finger and look back at my house.
The entire fa?ade is covered with wrapping paper. The exterior walls, the windows, the door, the porch railing, even the light fixture. All in different patterns and shades. Tilting my head back, I see even the roof is covered in printed birthday paper.
I hear laughter, and look over to see Riggs is now standing on his lawn, surveying his handiwork. Propping my hands on my hips, I give him a death stare, but he just laughs harder.
“I didn’t know it was your birthday,” he calls out when his laughter dies down.
“Very funny,” I say, trying like hell to hold onto my frown. “How many rolls of wrapping paper did this take?”
“Too many,” he says.
“Well, I hope you don’t expect me to climb on the roof. Get your ass over here, and help me take it down.”
He strides toward me with a wide grin, but instead of moving toward the house, he bends at the waist and scoops me up, tossing me over his shoulder. When I try to struggle, he smacks my ass and spins around in a circle.
Stopping, he says, “I’ll have the guys come by tomorrow and help me take it down for you. But right now, I want to feed you.”
My face heats as he carries me toward his house, and not from the blood currently rushing to my head in my upside-down position. No, my blush is a direct result of the image his words “I want to feed you” created in my head.
Me, on my knees.
Riggs, pushing his cock between my lips.
Who even am I right now? What have I become?
I’ve hated this man for most of my adult life, yet here I am, fantasizing about swallowing his cock. Of course, knowing what I know now, that hatred was misplaced. If Riggs can be believed––and I do believe him–– he made that bet to protect me and never had any intention of following through on it. And he backed out of it completely when things got serious between us.
Because I stubbornly refused to listen to his explanation all those years ago, I suffered through a lot of unnecessary pain and heartbreak. What would have happened if I had listened?
Riggs would’ve been my first. While I’m sure he wasn’t as good at all things sex back then as he is now, I’m also certain my first experience would’ve been a hell of a lot better with Riggs than it was with that douche from college. It would’ve been special.
Riggs flips me off his shoulder and cradles me to his chest as he jogs up his porch steps. I loop my arms around his neck and press my ear over his heart, but not before he notices my expression.
“Hey,” he says, swinging open the door and kicking it shut behind us once we pass through the opening. “What’s going on?”
He walks over to the couch and sits, holding me tightly when I try to wriggle off his lap. When I give up and meet his gaze, my heart flip-flops in my chest at the concern I see in their dark depths.
“Talk to me, Tessa.”
“It’s nothing,” I say with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I was just thinking about how different everything would’ve been if I’d just listened to you back in high school.”
Lifting a hand, he pushes a lock of my hair back with gentle fingers, tucking it behind my ear before sliding his palm down to loosely grip my neck. Lowering his chin, he locks eyes with me from beneath his thick, sooty lashes.
“Things worked out the way they were supposed to, Tessa. I might not have made that bet in earnest, but I did lie to you. I should’ve come clean from the start. I would have, if I’d known how hard I was going to fall.” His lips curl up at the corners. “Besides, we probably would’ve broken up when I left for college, anyway. I choose to think our timing was off back then. That waiting until we’ve both grown up was the right move.”
An unexpected laugh pops out of me, and I shake my head. “You think we’ve grown up? You just wrapped my house in birthday wrapping paper after catching me trying to T.P. yours.”
“Touché,” he says with a chuckle. “Maybe ‘we’ve gotten older’ is a better word choice.”
I lean forward, pressing my mouth to his in a soft kiss. He tries to deepen it, but I push him back with a hand to his chest.
“You said something about feeding me?”
“Yes,” he says, and I yelp as Riggs stands without warning, keeping me locked against his chest.
He carries me into the kitchen, but instead of setting me down at the table, he swings me up onto the kitchen island. I watch as he turns to pull a baking dish from the oven and sets it on top of the stove. Grabbing a plate, he scoops a spoonful from the dish before grabbing a fork and turning back to me.
“That smells delicious. What is it?” I ask as he moves between my knees and sets the steaming plate beside me on the island.
“Chicken enchilada casserole,” he says as he carves out a bite with the edge of the fork and lifts it to his mouth to blow on it.
After it cools enough to not scald my mouth, he holds it in front of my lips. I open up, and he pushes the fork gently between them. I take the bite, my eyes rolling back a bit as the flavors burst on my tongue.
“Mm,” I hum as I chew. Swallowing, I cock my head. “You made this?”
He nods. “You like?”
“It’s delicious,” I say.
“Thank you,” he says. “I like to cook.”
He feeds me another bite. Then another. I hold up my hand to stop him as he offers me a fourth one.
“Aren’t you going to have any?” I ask.
“I can’t,” he says, slapping his abs. “All those carbs and cheeses will go straight to my gut, and I have to get back into game-shape for the upcoming season.”
I eye him skeptically. If this is considered out of shape, I don’t know if I’d be able to handle seeing him “in shape.” His body is fucking perfection just as it is.
“Besides,” he says, pushing the fork between my lips slowly before dragging it back out, “watching you eat is hot as fuck. And I’m saving my appetite for dessert.”
“You can’t have the meal, but you can have dessert?” I ask, arching a brow at him.
“The dessert I’m talking about doesn’t have calories, fat, or carbs,” he says, his free hand gliding up my thigh until his thumb brushes over the crotch of my jeans.
“Oh,” I reply, my breath hitching in my throat as my nerve endings spark with excitement. “I think I’m done eating now.”
“One more bite,” he says, his voice low and husky as he feeds me another morsel.
I take it, and he pulls the fork free before setting it aside. I lean back to give him better access as he works on the button and zipper of my jeans, and I lift my hips as he tugs them down. Once my legs are free of my shoes, socks, and the denim, he makes short work of ridding me of my underwear before spreading my knees.
“So beautiful,” he says, dipping his head to tease me with a flick of his tongue.
“Riggs,” I groan, feeling my need spike.
“Mm,” he hums, licking me again. “I think I want to savor my dessert tonight. Eat it nice and slow so it lasts longer.”
I gasp and groan as he runs his tongue down my slit and back up to my clit, which he lightly teases before pulling back again. He’s driving me mad, and he knows it. I can tell he’s loving every second of this torture, but I wonder how he’d feel if our roles were reversed.
I push him away with my foot, and he stares at me with wide, startled eyes as I hop off the counter. Hooking my fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts, I pull him toward his bedroom. He follows without a word, and when we reach his bed, I push his shorts and underwear down.
Stepping back, I point toward the bed. “Lay down. If you’re having dessert, I want some, too.”
Understanding dawns on his face, and he quickly rolls onto the mattress. I pull off my shirt and bra before climbing up beside him. Propping my weight on outstretched arms, I lower my head and lick the length of his rigid cock like a lollipop.
“Tessa,” Riggs breathes, his fingers latching onto one of my ankles and tugging. “Get up here and sit on my face so I can fuck you with my mouth while you do that.”
Heat blasts through me at his words, and I slowly maneuver myself around to do as he says. I’ve never done this before, so I feel awkward and unsure. Straddling his head, I hover over his face as I reach out to stroke his cock.
Riggs’ large hands clamp over my thighs and yank me down, and my startled yelp melts into a moan as his tongue delves inside me. It thrusts into me again and again, setting my body alight with need. I lean forward to suck at the tip of his cock, and he groans into my slick flesh as his tongue searches out my clit. As soon as he finds it, I push him deep into my mouth, sucking lightly as my tongue laps at it. Riggs moans again, and his tongue moves faster, swirling around and stabbing at my clit as I bob my head, taking him as deep as I can without gagging.
Did I say I didn’t like sucking cock?
Fuck. The one time I tried it was nothing like this. The guy had set the pace, pumping his hips and fucking my mouth like my enjoyment of the act was irrelevant. Oh, and his dirty talk left much to be desired. He kept calling me a dirty slut with a whore’s mouth that was only good for fucking. Yeah. I didn’t see him again after that.
But this? Hearing Riggs’ moans of pleasure as he feasts on me? And his growls whenever I suck him deeper into my mouth? I’m fucking dripping with need.
I squeeze the base of his cock lightly, then suck at the tip as I stroke my fist up and down his length. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing, but those deep growls urge me onward. My legs start to tense, and there’s a tightening in my core that tells me I’m not going to last much longer.
Finding an even rhythm, I bob my head, gliding my tongue over his silky flesh as his cock slides in and out. Riggs’ tongue picks up speed as his abdomen tenses beneath me, and I know we’re both chasing that high of release.
Riggs grunts, his hips rising as he comes, and he sucks my clit, hard, setting off my own explosive orgasm. I swallow rapidly, and he laps at my center until we’re both spent. I roll off him and collapse against the mattress. Riggs sits up and twists around until we’re lying in the same direction, then pulls me into his arms.
“That was amazing,” he whispers against my hair.
“It really was,” I whisper back, still twitching with the aftershocks of my orgasm.
“I want to ask you something,” he says, his hand smoothing over my back.
“What is it?” I mumble against his chest.
“Tessa White, will you go out on a date with me?”
Snapping out of the post-orgasmic haze that had enveloped me, I rear back to look into his eyes. “A date?”
He nods. “A real one.”
“Out in public?” I ask arching a brow.
“That’s the plan,” he says, narrowing his gaze at my grin. “What?”
“Aren’t you afraid of what I might do to retaliate for your latest prank? Taking me out in public could be risky.”
“I’ll take my chances,” he says with a warm smile. “So, is that a yes?”
“Yes,” I say, a warm fire building in my chest. “I’d love to go out on a date with you.”