Chapter Thirteen
TOMMY
She’s against that damn bedroom door in seconds, suspended in my arms like a rag doll, taking my dick as I slam into her on repeat.
“I hope you don’t have practice tomorrow because you won’t be able to walk by the morning.”
Small gasps fall from her throat, complementing the wet sounds her pussy makes as she takes me.
I’m punishing her for months of her bratty attitude with each thrust I unleash onto her body.
On the first orgasm, her head lolls forward, resting in the center of my chest. Her nails tear strips down my back, cutting into my shoulder blades.
Jenna Miller is at my mercy.
“T-Tommy,” she cries. “I’m going to come. Again.”
I pound into her harder. “Let me play with your ass.”
With big blue eyes that usually hide all vulnerability, she nods her agreement, and I bring a single finger to her lips, asking her to lubricate it. The other arm keeps her in place against the door.
She takes it into her mouth, wrapping her tongue around my tattoos.
When she’s finished, I do the same. The taste of her mouth is as delicious as her pussy. For a moment, I wonder what it would be like to kiss this girl, long and slow and with tongues tangling.
I don’t kiss women. Ever.
Her asshole is still coated in arousal from before, and I slow my thrusts, easing my finger inside her.
“Oh my God,” she moans when I gently move my finger, stroking her walls to create optimal pressure.
“If you weren’t such a fucking bitch all the time, I could’ve been doing this in a much easier position.”
I’m not sure if she chooses to ignore my gibe or if she’s simply zoned out. Anal play will do that to a girl.
I stroke her again and feel a warm release around my dick, along with her tightening cunt.
“How many orgasms have you had now, Jenna?” I ask, pride swamping my voice.
With her eyes squeezed shut, she shakes her head. “I-I don’t know.”
My gaze falls to her full lips, an unexpected need to kiss her resurfacing.
This is the last girl I should be tempted to kiss. This isn’t even respectful sex. This is a fuck to serve a purpose.
“Make my ass come, Tommy.” She opens her eyes, pupils blown wider than I’ve ever seen them before. “I want to know what it feels like.”
Anal orgasms aren’t always possible, but when they do happen to a girl, they leave her a quivering mess. I think that’s why I like them so much—it feeds my need to control.
“I’m not sure you deserve that from me,” I whisper into the shell of her ear. “I might just leave you like this. Maybe one of your other men could show you what it’s like? How about Gentry?”
I know for a fact that she hasn’t even come during her latest sexual encounters. It was obvious from the way she spoke about them.
“But I barely know what I’m doing,” I goad, turning her previous insults back around to haunt her. “I’m younger and inexperienced.”
If a face could kill, that’s the look she’s giving me right now.
I press my finger deeper, and she clings on to me, carving more scratches into my back.
“The best way to make a girl scream—just like I promised you would—is to do this.” I beckon my finger in a come here motion.
“That’s fucking awesome,” she grinds out, trying to spread her legs wider.
I have a difficult time keeping hold of her, but just about manage.
“What about if I do this?” I slide my finger out and then push it back in, circling the pad around her sensitive walls.
Blue eyes burn deep into my own, holding me captive for an uncomfortably long time.
“I-I think it’s about to happen,” she says, voice barely audible. “Do that again, and I’ll come so hard.”
Because I’m a nice guy and around thirty seconds from dropping her, I do precisely as she asked.
My dick is still hard and inside her pussy when her ass squeezes my finger on a guttural groan that emanates from her chest. Her pussy grows wetter around me.
I’m certain she’s still coming when I pull my cock out and bring her into my chest, walking us across to her bed.
As I lay her down on the soft white duvet, her eyes flutter shut. Long, dark lashes resting against a perfect complexion. It’s the first time I’ve observed Jenna without her harboring an agenda or hatred toward me, and I take the opportunity to examine her features more closely.
I hate that despite getting what I wanted from her body, I’m still—if not more—curious about the girl in front of me.
“Is your beauty spot real?” I ask, coming to sit beside her on the bed.
She doesn’t answer; the soft rise and fall of her chest is the only response I get.
Carefully, I reach out and smooth the pad of my thumb under her left eye, checking to see if the spot smudges.
It doesn’t, and she remains asleep, totally taken out, as I predicted she would be from her first anal climax.
I cast my eyes around the bright room, sunlight flooding the space.
On top of her dresser sit two images of equal size but in completely different-styled frames.
One is of Jenna and Holt at what looks to be her college graduation; the other is an action shot of her saving a goal.
It occurs to me that there aren’t any photos of her parents.
Based on the close relationship she has with her brother, I had assumed that Jenna’s apartment would be plastered with happy family portraits and words of affirmation that would make me sick to my stomach.
I fucking hate toxic positivity.
Her place is a mess—scattered clothes all over the floor, a laundry basket overflowing with bras and workout gear. That part of her life doesn’t surprise me; I figured she was disorganized from her loose nutritional plan alone.
The one I stood in back in Boston.
That thought has me carefully rising from the bed and grabbing my boxer briefs and athletic shorts from where I left them in the hallway, stepping into them before I make for her tiny kitchen just off the living space.
Her refrigerator is equally as messy as I push a box of half-eaten pizza to one side, gagging at the thought of how old it is.
What kind of athlete doesn’t have preprepared meals? How can she function like this?
Inside her salad drawer, I find a borderline passable pineapple, green beans, half a butternut squash, and a bunch of other stuff that I think were once root vegetables.
Jesus Christ.
Closing the fridge door, I move to her cupboards—which aren’t exactly bursting with food—and pause my internal scolding.
Is it possible that she’s struggling financially?
Most of the stuff is canned or condensed with long-ago sell-by dates—bringing back memories of how Mom used to get by when she was in between jobs or had her wages delayed, only leaving Alex’s child support payments to pay all of our bills.
I know female pro soccer players earn a shit wage, and perhaps the absence of family portraits in her place is a clue that she doesn’t have many people to lean on.
Join the fucking club.
Shutting the cupboard, I look around Jenna’s small living space, a foreign sense of empathy for this girl creeping into my conscience as I push away memories of my childhood, along with thoughts of my mom.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I pause on stirring the one pan I could find that was suitable to make a curry and turn around to see an unimpressed Jenna, dressed in sweats and a white Storm T-shirt.
She cocks her head to the side, arms tightly folded across her chest as she approaches me.
I look down at the spoon I’m holding and then back up at Jenna. “You live like a pig, so I’m helping you become more … human.”
On a scoff, she snatches the spoon from my hand, peering over my shoulder to examine what I’m cooking.
“Where did you get all the ingredients to make that?”
She rocks back on her heels as her nose twitches at the fragrant smell rising from the butternut squash and pineapple Thai curry bubbling away behind me. There are at least three portions she can separate and store in the freezer for meals after a practice or game.
Choosing to rise above her lack of gratitude, I spin back around and stir the curry. “Everything in this pan I found in your refrigerator or cupboard. Both were unholy, by the way.”
She moves across to her fridge, ripping it open in fury. “You cleaned it!”
Jenna was only asleep for a half hour, but it didn’t take me long to disinfect. Neither did the cupboards. I knew me doing that would drive her wild, as would making her food.
“You act like it’s an issue,” I tell her. “You really do live up to the name Hellion. I’ve seen torture chambers that were more sanitary.”
She swats me in the back, and I smirk at her from over my shoulder before turning off the burner.
“You think just because we fucked, you can move about my apartment as you please?”
Her defenses are up, and I sense she’s embarrassed.
As she continues to rant at me, I begin spooning the curry into three separate containers.
“The sex wasn’t even that good. For some unknown reason, I’d thought you’d be better in bed. I guess I should’ve listened to my instincts when I first turned you down,” she laments.
Setting the pan and spoon back down on the cooling burner, I finally grant her the attention she’s craving.
“You literally had to sleep off the orgasms I gave you. Don’t start spouting more bullshit when I just made you some proper food.”
She glares at me. “You tossed my pizza out.”
“Another twenty-four hours, and it could’ve gotten up and walked out to the garbage truck itself!” I blow out, laughing at the state of it. At the state of her apartment.
She rains down plenty of judgment on me when she should take a long look at the way she lives her life.
“I couldn’t even tell what toppings you had.”
“Pepperoni,” she bites. “My favorite.”
I pretend to care. “If you’d eaten it, then you would definitely have been sick.” I mirror her stance, crossing my arms over my chest. “Look at it this way; I just saved you from starvation and a severe case of food poisoning.”
Jenna opens her mouth to argue, but I get there first.
“And I did all that without a single orgasm. I rocked your world and got nothing in return.”
She might try to hide her horror, but I see it. I don’t actually care that I didn’t come since witnessing Jenna’s euphoric state was satisfaction enough. Not that she needs to know that.
“I’m not fucking you again, if that’s what you’re after. I’m already regretting everything we did. It’ll take me months to come to terms with what I let you do.”
I take two steps toward her, enough so our bodies are almost touching. The hum of electricity—something I was sure would disappear after we fucked—is only more prevalent than before.
“No danger of that. It was the worst sex I’d ever had. You literally made zero effort and left it all to me. It was like fucking a sack of potatoes.”
She rolls her lips together, and I’m surprised steam isn’t billowing from her ears.
“Get out of my apartment, Tommy.”
I came here earlier to try and make peace with this girl; instead, all we’ve done is fuck and fight.
Should’ve seen it coming.
“Leave the food to cool completely before you add it to the freezer.” I tip my chin at the front door, which is directly ahead of me at the end of the hallway.
“Not that I expect you to say thank you or anything, but later today, you can expect a delivery from an organic food market I use on the regular. If you want to stop embarrassing yourself on YouTube videos, you need to feed your body better.”
Just like earlier, Jenna battles with conflicting emotions as she stands motionless in front of me.
I step around her and grab my wallet and keys from the counter.
“You know I still hate you, right?” she says just as I reach her front door.
I pause with my hand on the handle, contemplating ignoring her altogether.
“Oh, I know,” I say, keeping my back to her the whole time. I pull the door open. “Trouble is, now you’ve fallen in love with my dick.”