Chapter 21 #2
I kissed him, made him stop talking, needed to show him how I felt now, or my heart would burst, the blood would literally explode from my heated racing veins.
As he held me, I slipped from his lap in spite of his groan, and I knelt before him.
Meeting the intensity of his eyes, sent a zip of awareness through me as I lowered my head, slowly, purposefully until my lips reached the tip of him, tasted the creamy leakage.
My tongue darted out and licked up the sticky salty moisture, ran down the slit on his head, my hands holding him as his cock jutted forward, reaching out for me.
“You’re killing me,” he groaned. “I don’t know how long I can last if you— “
I shut off his words as I opened my mouth and sucked his head inside, moved my lips down as far as I could until I gagged.
“Mercy mother of God,” he murmured, clenching his hands in my hair.
My eyes watered, but I smiled, feeling his fingers shake, tasting his cock, the solid hardness, soft and silky.
I lifted my mouth, sucking as I went, holding his cock tight in my fists, to run my tongue around the tip, pulling more cum-leak from him.
Then I plunged back down and my belly flipped when he let out a loud groan and swore.
The abandon that took me came from nowhere, had no precedent, yet I wasn’t surprised, gave no second thought to worshipping the generous length of him with my mouth and fists, up and down, in and out, saliva pooling around him, drooling from my mouth, hot honey pooling between my legs with the delicious rising power, the ferocious hunger in me, the magnificent passion in him, the energy coming to a pinpoint of intensity, so that I could feel the spiral tightening in him as he ground out the growling words.
“I’m coming.” As he pulled from my mouth, yanking me up on top of him with an enormous strong pull of his hands to put me back on his lap, unerringly over his cock.
He guided himself inside me, played his fingers over my clit, bringing my shivering body to a clenching frenzy as I sank onto his cock.
The feel of him so big and so hard inside my dripping pussy made me tighten impossibly as if shrunk around him in convulsive curls.
As I vibrated, spiraling into a tight needle of sharp sensation, breathless and heart-stopping, he thrust upwards, once, twice and then burst open inside me with a loud roaring release.
Like I was tumbling through space, I felt like we occupied a timeless black hole without boundaries, endless, suspended, where the only existence, the only reality, was the orgasmic ecstasy between my legs where we joined, where we’d crashed together and fell apart, mingling together, mixing parts so there was no him and me, only us.
After our heartbeats drummed together and slowed in synch, he reached his arms around my bottom and lifted me, standing without a trace of strain, and carried me into my bedroom.
We tumbled into bed together and he showered me with kisses, from my nipples, down my rib cage, my skin rippling with trembles as he went.
When he reached my thigh, purposely skirting around my pussy in spite of my arching into him, I sucked in a breath as he spread my legs apart with his hands and traced his tongue on the frail skin.
He chuckled, a deep satisfying sound that rumbled through me like the rolling quake of a giant earth-moving caterpillar, big and relentless, giving me chills and sighs at once.
“And there it is,” he said, kissing the inside of my thigh, close to the top at the strategic v that sheltered my pussy. A quick-flash of my heart stopped me and then I breathed and laughed at once.
“You found my tattoo.”
He sucked the spot where the small Auburn Tiger, no more than a half inch square, decorated my delicate skin.
“I certainly did. You’re a brave girl.” He rose up from where he’d been nestled, where he’d kissed the small representation of the Auburn football mascot in the hollow at the top of my inner thigh before it met my pelvis.
“A crazy weak moment. If it makes you feel better, the tattoo artist was a woman.”
He kissed my mouth. “A very talented woman. And lucky,” he said. “Mystery solved.”
“Are you disappointed?” I asked.
His eyes went dark. “Are you looking for reassurance? Because I’ll give you all you can handle.
There’s no way you could disappoint me Mia.
I’m all in with you. I adore every dam thing about you, good, bad and ugly—though it’s impossible for me to find anything about you to be ugly. I find everything about you perfect.”
I believed he meant it, believed he was all in, it was the way he was, the reason he held back, so carefully and deliberately making the choice to give himself.
“How did I get so lucky?” I said, drenching his face with kisses, worshipping his face with my mouth, wanting him as if he were a rare work of art.
Gabe
We were still awake in her bed. It was close to three a.m. We were quiet. I had practice in a few hours. Needed sleep. I kissed the top of her head where it lay in the crook of my arm.
I didn’t care about practice. Couldn’t work up the interest about getting in early. My heart still raced, my body still sweaty, I still had Mia’s warmth, her soft body against mine. We’d just made love—long, glorious, slow love. Why would I give a fuck about football now?
“You have practice in the morning,” she said.
I didn’t say anything, didn’t want to think about it. After a pause and a deep breath, I tensed when she spoke again in a soft voice.
“I’ll wait for you until after the season. If you want.”
Her words hit me like a linebacker coming in hot for a sack, a shock of pain, but not shocking. I rolled on my side and gathered her in my arms.
“No. I don’t want to wait. I don’t need to wait for us to be together.”
She studied my face, wariness still there, looking for the catch. My heart pinched. I needed her to lighten up, to hear her laugh.
“I’m playing like crap anyway so we may as well enjoy my demise. The end of Mr. Football.”
She didn’t laugh as I’d expected, but at least she smiled. I needed to hear that laugh. Ached for it.
She shook her head. “The end of Mr. Football? Not if I have anything to say about it. I love you, Gabe, but I love football too.”
Her voice had a playful note that lightened me all at once as if lifting a cement blanket from my soul. She’d admitted she loved me. My heart went tumbling.
“Is that right?” My voice was shaky. I could make her laugh. I had to. “You think you can improve my game somehow?”
She nodded.
“We could institute rules,” she said.
“For instance?”
“No sex unless you win.”
I laughed. It could work. “Who’s going to enforce that rule?”
She opened her mouth, said nothing and then laughed like crazy in hysterical giggles.
“Not me,” she managed.
“Not me either,” I said. I pulled her in and tumbled her over almost off the bed while she laughed in my ear, and the vibrations rolled over me, like waves of the best soothing drug ever invented.
That was the power Mia had over me. I loved her like hell, so much that I didn’t care if I lost a game, but I wanted to try like hell to win just to please her.
I kissed her ear and whispered, “I love you too, Mia.” I sighed and added, “More than football.”
“I love you more than football, too, Wyatt,” she said. “But not by much.” She arched under me like a living sculpture, making my heart feel like a race car leaving rubber, momentarily stopped before speeding recklessly ahead.
“Can you manage to win a few games, maybe even a super bowl while you love me?” she teased me.
Rising up over her, leaning on my shoulder, I looked down at her face, so vital, so essential to me, wondering how I could have thought I could exist with anything less.
“You’re testing me. But you know how I am. I give my all when I give myself. That goes for you. And for football. I want to play and I want to win. Like always.”
“Then what’s different, Gabe?” she looked disturbed, like she’d missed something.
I paused. “I’m different. I’m whole. Even though I’m … still afraid of loss.” I thought about my mother, then of Derek, but the gut-ripping pain was less while I held Mia. I’d need to tell her about Derek, about that day. About everything. Sometime.
“I don’t need football for survival. I want it because I love playing, love winning, love the team.” I breathed in her scent, the scent of our love-making and the tension of remembering all the loss eased. “I’m surviving because I still love, still have so much love, for you, Mia.”
“You have all my love, Gabe. Forever.” She reached her hands up around my neck and pulled me down until my mouth crushed hers, until I was home, where I belonged.