Chapter Two
"Elise," the massive Brit purrs as he swipes the head of his engorged cock through my slick heat, "will you be a good girl and accommodate us both at the same time?"
"Yes," I moan.
Leo chuckles, lining his swollen tip up with my mouth. "It's really poetic, isn't it, mate?" He pauses, laughing again. "The good little French girl is about to do her first Eiffel Tower."
A laugh squawks out of me, hiding my disdain for the ignorant comment. Leo is often brash, leaning into certain stereotypes about Australians, never one to hold his thoughts in, which is something I usually enjoy about him, so I brush the comment off. "When did I say it was my first?" I challenge.
Noah smacks my ass from his position behind me. “He should’ve known better.”
The sting sends a zap of electricity down my spine, and a moan slips past my lips. “Shut up and fuck me already,” I instruct, letting the sass seep into my voice.
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Leo responds before plunging his cock into my mouth.
“Oh, we’ve already started, huh?” Noah comments from behind, pushing into me, causing my mouth to drive forward, meeting Leo’s hips.
Noah’s pounding thrusts and the slap of his pelvis against my ass causes heat to pool in my core. My eyes are watering with the effort to remain on all fours with Leo’s length threatening to suffocate me.
Noah’s hand snakes around my bare abdomen, his thumb stroking over my clit. Another moan escapes me, and my thighs clench together as the firm pressure starts to coax my orgasm out of me.
Leo’s position changes, his hips angling himself even further, burrowing into my throat.
I look up at him through my lashes and see that he’s extending his arm over my head, presumably reaching for Leo’s behind me. A real Eiffel Tower. Well, I’ll be damned.
It takes everything in me not to laugh with his cock impaling my throat. If I did, he’d likely wind up with teeth marks.
Drawing in a deep breath through my nose, I focus on two things. Not choking and having an orgasm before I have to make it to practice.
Leo’s callused hand grips my chin, then drags across my cheek. His fingers dig into my scalp, his groans of approval growing louder.
“Fuck, Frenchy, your mouth is fucking delicious,” he says with a moan.
“She’s gagging for it,” Noah murmurs, his thick British accent sending another jolt of pleasure through me.
My walls are clenching around his length, the methodical rhythm of his thumb driving me wild. Tension builds throughout me, my muscles aching for release.
Leo’s body goes rigid. “I’m about to come.”
The hot, salty taste of his release fills my mouth, sliding down my throat.
A satisfying moan escapes me as Noah pulls himself out entirely before plunging back in.
I bounce my ass back into his hips, taking him to the hilt as I come undone around him.
My body writhes against him as he fills me, tendrils of pleasure licking up my spine.
Once they’ve both pulled out, I collapse on the bed. “Fucking hell,” Leo groans.
Noah’s arousal trickles out of me and down my thighs. I’m spent.
Noah slumps beside me, angling his face to peer over at me. He’s wearing a contented smile as he says, “Sorry ‘bout that, love.” He nods his chin toward my coated thighs.
A laugh escapes me as I roll over, smacking a hand to his chest and using it to push myself up. “Alrighty, boys, stay as long as you’d like, but I’ve got to get going.”
“Your new coach starts today, right?”
I nod, heading to the bathroom to clean up.
Neither of them moves to stand, but I leave the door open so we can continue talking while I freshen up.
“Know who it is yet?”
I shake my head before realising that they can’t see my response. “Not yet.”
“Hopefully they're not a wanker like the last one,” Noah drawls.
“He wasn’t a wanker.” I chuckle. “He was a slut. But so are we, and I’m not judging either of you.”
“The man was old enough to be our father.” Leo groans.
Grabbing a pair of shorts, I work them up my thighs. “Different strokes for different folks.” I shrug. “Not my cup of tea, but I can’t fault the man too much. If I looked like him at nearly fifty, I’d be sleeping with whoever I wanted too.”
“You already do that,” Noah jokes.
“Yep, and I’ve no plans to stop anytime soon.”
“And why is that exactly, Elise?” Noah asks, a light brow raised at me.
Oh, here we go again. Why can’t he leave well enough alone?
I don’t have the time, nor the desire, for more than what we’re already doing, and with Noah’s incessant questioning, I’d never be open to anything serious with him , anyway.
Of course, I don’t say any of that and opt for a kinder, more rehearsed version of the same sentiment.
“I don’t have time for a relationship right now, and I have no reason to settle for just one cock. Maybe one day when I find one that satisfies me, I will, but lucky for you”—I wink—“today is not that day.”
Noah chuckles, but the sound is tense. He sits up to get dressed, and my shoulders sag with relief. “Fair enough, but I’m not sure there’s any human cock that could satisfy you. Hell, this bloke and I have been trying for months now.”
I roll my eyes at that. “Don’t act as if it’s some hardship.
” Sex is the only time I can afford to feel anything besides the constant weight of loss.
Sure, I might’ve let go of the resentment I used to carry around, but it doesn’t mean it’s not impossible to miss the two people I once counted on most. Without them here, focusing solely on my career is a necessary evil to ensure my success.
Bending forward, I double-knot my trainers. “Alright, let yourselves out, I’m gonna be late.” I catch sight of the alarm clock on my nightstand. “Again,” I groan, heading out with a noncommittal wave in their direction.
“The French, always rushing everywhere ,” Noah chides as I sprint down the steps.
I slam the door shut behind me, bolting down the rickety wooden porch steps and to my rideshare. I slide into the backseat, introduce myself, and luckily, he gets the hint that I’m in a hurry.
The drive doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes, and the moment he’s slowed down enough that I won’t get killed, I fling myself from the car, sprinting to the locker room to throw my things down and rush out toward the field.
“I’m here!” I shout, sprinting past the water bottles lined up on the edge of the turf. I expect to see my teammates already stretching, getting ready for our first official practice with our new coach, but that isn’t what I find at all.
My team is huddled together, staring at the field as I approach. I catch sight of the familiar blue streaks running through one of my best friend’s hair and immediately steer in her direction. “What are we all looking—” The words get caught in my throat, my mouth running dry.
Chelsea makes no move to face me as she breathes the words, “Rugby players.” As if that answers all of the questions suddenly racing through my head.
My eyes zero in on the massive men on the field, each of them in a different position as they stretch out their colossal, toned thighs. Jesus Christ, I’d pay to be crushed between a set of those things.
Some of the men are utilising resistance bands while others have their asses in the air, stretching their legs.
Several of them are wearing what Chelsea refers to as “hoochie daddy shorts.” The number of strange terms Americans use will never cease to amaze me, but this time, the phrase feels rather fitting.
Another familiar face catches my eye, and I see the broad smile belonging to my father stretch across his wrinkling face as he waves at me.
“What the hell is a professional rugby team, my father’s team, doing at our school?” I question anyone within earshot.
“Not a clue, but I can’t say I’m not enjoying the view,” Adhira comments dryly.
“Are you back on your poetry kick, or did that rhyme come out by accident?” Chelsea asks, snickering beside me.
“That time, it was an accident. My comment still stands.”
“Can’t say I disagree,” Ruby, another one of our teammates, comments.
“Alright, men, practice is over. Get off my kid’s pitch.”
I groan, unease rippling through me as he draws unwanted attention to me.
The men stand, heading past my drooling teammates as they take us in, wiggling their brows and sending winks in every direction.
All except one of them. My father’s team captain.
The giant standing beside my father is facing us with his hands on his hips, unwavering as his gaze sweeps over us slowly. My dad claps him on the back before jogging toward the locker rooms, averting his gaze as he rushes past me.
I don’t have time to go after him before Rafael Romero-Castillo opens his sexy mouth to speak the words that are bound to wreck the rest of our season.
“Listen up, ladies, I’m Rafael, and I’ll be your interim coach for the remainder of the season. I know this might come as a shock to some of you, but prior to playing rugby, I actually came here on a football scholarship.” We all watch him with rapt attention. How could we not?
“And you think because you played soccer over a decade ago that you’re qualified to coach us?” Chelsea challenges from beside me, her arms crossed over her small chest.
“No.” He shakes his head, his shoulders rigid, jaw set in a sharp line.
“I don’t think I’m even a little qualified for this job, but my coach is making me do this because apparently without me, none of you would even have a coach this season.
So, how about we all work together to get through this season and make the most of this?
” he chides sarcastically, not looking hopeful. Wow. Isn’t he delightful?
We each look to one another before levelling him with a stare. “Fine,” I tell him. At that, each of us makes our way onto the field, ignoring his sceptical expression.
What he doesn’t realise is that we’ve all been playing together for long enough to know what the other is thinking without having to speak about it. And luckily for him, we’ve decided on a silent truce. For now.