Chapter 9
I’m out on the practice field, but it looks different. A thick mist swirls over the immaculately trimmed pitch, making it hard to see more than a couple of feet in front of me. The cold air wraps around me in a cloak, leaving me covered in goosebumps as the damp layers caress my bare skin.
Wait… bare skin?
I look down. Oh my fucking god. I’m naked on the practice field.
I glance around, my cheeks on fire, desperately searching for something to cover myself with, but of course, there’s nothing in sight. I contemplate running back inside, but my body feels strange, as if I can’t move more than a step in either direction. I feel exposed, but there’s an eerie calm. Through the darkness, I strain my eyes but don’t seem to see anyone else nearby.
“Well, well, if it isn’t our resident rugby goddess, Dylan,” a sultry voice drawls from behind me in an Irish lilt. Killian. Figures. Of course, it would be him.
He’s one of the only guys who can make me feel like a shy little kitten one moment and completely on fire the next. The other two being my other hot new roommates.
“Cover me!” I hiss, trying and failing to sound composed.
“With pleasure, love,” he purrs, wiggling his eyebrows. “And I’m pretty sure I have the proper equipment to do the job.”
Ugh, Killian Baxter, why do you have to be so damn hot?
I stomp my foot, which isn’t as intimidating as I’d hoped with no shoes on. “I meant with something to... you know!” I gesture at my nakedness, wishing the earth would swallow me whole.
He grins, slow and wicked, taking his sweet time before handing me a spare jersey. “I know what you meant, Dylan, but where’s the fun in that?” he says, his eyes roaming over my body like a predator stalking its prey.
I snatch the jersey and yank it over my head, tugging it down as far as it’ll go. “You’re a pig, you know that?” I sputter, unable to meet his eyes.
“Yeah, but you like it,” he teases, winking. Before I can form a witty retort, he adds, “But seriously, are you okay, Dyl? You’ve been distracted all practice.”
Dang it, he noticed. “I’m fine, just...thinking about… stuff,” I mumble, tying my laces in triple knots.
“Care to share with the team, princess?” he asks, using the pet name he knows I hate...love.
“None of your business, Baxter,” I huff, but I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.
“All right, all right,” he says, holding his palms up in surrender. “But you know if you ever need a... hand... with anything,” he trails off suggestively, “my locker room’s always open. In fact,” his gaze roves over my body, “I don’t think I can wait that long…”
“Killian,” I moan as he approaches me, this unstoppable wall of pure hotness coming toward me. “We shouldn’t...”
“Shh...” he whispers, capturing my lips in a searing kiss that would melt my panties if I were wearing any. His hands roam my body, and I moan as his fingertips graze my bare skin. He growls, “So fucking sexy, kitten.”
Killian’s eyes darken, and he grips my hips, lifting me up against the cold metal fence that lines the field. “I’ve always wanted you like this,” he grunts.
This is where he’d probably tear my panties off, but I’m not wearing any.
“Me too,” I confess, my voice husky with desire.
He hoists me up further, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he slams me against the fence.
He enters me roughly with his massive cock, his tongue finding mine as our bodies move in sync.
The metal bites into my back, but I don’t care because being in his arms feels like home.
“Damn, kitten,” he growls, his hips grinding into mine with a ferocity I didn’t know he had in him. “You feel... so... fucking... good. And the sight of you in my jersey… it makes me want to fuck you until your legs are like jello.”
“Killian, oh god, don’t stop,” I moan, my nails digging into his broad shoulders.
His pace intensifies, and I know I’m teetering on the edge.
“I. Can’t. Hold. Off. Any. Longer,” I pant in between moans.
“Neither... can... I,” he grunts, and together, we shatter, our cries of ecstasy echoing through the empty field.
Breathless, we cling to each other, our breaths coming out in ragged pants. “Well, that was,” I start, laughing breathlessly, “unexpected.”
Killian chuckles, setting me down gently. “A kitten’s got claws.” He smirks, rubbing at his back where my fingernails made their presence known.
“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet, Killian,” I wink, deciding I quite like this bold, confident version of myself.
I swing my leg over his waist, straddling him as he lays back on the cold, damp grass, and take him in my hands, admiring his hardness. “Ready for round two, big guy?” I say, winking at him, trying to hide the vulnerability I feel.
“Oh, kitten,” Killian grunts, his eyes smoldering with desire, “I’ve been ready since you first walked onto this field. Ride me.”
With a coy smile, I lower myself onto him, his cock filling me perfectly, like a key in a lock.
I moan, savoring the feeling of him inside me. It’s been too long since I’ve felt this alive.
We move together, our bodies slapping against each other, our moans echoing across the empty stadium.
I bend forward, my breasts bouncing enticingly, and grind my hips into his , eliciting a groan from Killian.
He wraps his hands around my waist, guiding my motions, thrusting up into me as if his life depends on it.
“God, Dylan,” he pants, “You feel so... so...”
“Tight? Wet?” I finish for him, gasping as he hits just the right spot within me.
“Both,” he grunts, his fingers digging into the turf, his abs tensing beneath me.
The stadium lights flicker on, bathing us in their harsh glare, but we don’t stop.
We’re lost in each other, caught up in the moment, in the intensity of our union.
Neither of us care about the potential audience, or the consequences.
All that matters is this... this connection, this passionate, all-consuming need to be one with the other.
I throw my head back, my hair cascading down my naked back as I moan loudly, my climax building, coiling deep within my core.
Killian buries his face in my neck, his teeth nipping at my sensitive skin as he spurs me on. “That’s it, baby, come for me. Let go.”
With a scream that would put any good rugby cheerleader to shame, I shatter around him, my inner walls clenching against him as I orgasm harder than I ever have before.
Killian follows suit, his body rigid beneath mine.
“You’re mine, Dylan,” he growls out, his voice guttural and animalistic as he pulls out, his hot seed spraying across my chest, and the scoreboard lights up to reveal the final score.
“It’s a draw,” I whisper.
I stir awake, my heart pounding and my body on fire, the damp sheets tangled around my legs.
Blinking in the dimly lit room, I take a moment to orient myself.
It was just a dream. A vivid, hot as hell dream. And not the first one I’ve had about my new roommates.
I run my hand over my slick thighs, still tingling with the residual phantom sensation of Killian’s touch.
“Shit,” I mutter beneath my breath, burying my flushed face into my pillow. Of all the times for my subconscious to be distracted like this. I should be visualizing my moves on the field, not straddling my roommate’s giant dream cock.
Giving Jonah a quick snuggle, I roll out of bed, grab my duffel bag, and head for the shower in an attempt to wash away the memory of the scorching hot dream.
As I stand under the cool spray, however, I can’t help but replay the scene in my mind. Killian’s eyes dark with desire, his hands on my hips, guiding me.
“Focus, Dylan,” I scold myself, lathering up with body wash. “I’m here for rugby, nothing else.” But even as I say it, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if it had been real, if Killian and I...
Forcing the thought away, I step out of the shower, dress, and head toward the kitchen.
I need a strong cup of coffee, some banter with my new teammates at practice, and to stop thinking about my very off-limits, very gorgeous roommates.