22. A Tight End, I Can Handle
22
Riggs
Tessa holds her breath as I dribble chocolate sauce over her breasts, making sure to coat the nipples. Setting the bottle aside, I bend down to lick it off, saving the nipples for last. By the time I suck them clean, her fingers are damn near ripping my hair out.
And I love every second of it.
I press a quick kiss to her mouth before planting my palm against her chest. Applying light pressure, I guide her back until she’s spread across my table, looking like a fucking angel with her dark hair spread out behind her. After spreading her legs wide, I pick up the bottle and drip a line of chocolate down the center of her torso before coating her pussy in the sweet stuff.
Bending over her, I drop the bottle to the table before sucking the chocolate from her skin. I follow the trail to her mound, licking it clean before moving down to her sweet, hot center. I lap at the sauce, Tessa’s quick breaths and little mewls of pleasure egging me on.
Fuck, she’s delicious. And I’m not talking about the chocolate.
“Riggs,” she moans, and my blood heats as that single husky word reverberates in my ears.
I lick her clean with the flat of my tongue, then swirl the tip around her clit as I push two fingers inside her. She’s hot and wet, her silky inner walls compressing around my digits as I pump them in and out at a slow, deliberate pace.
“Oh, God,” she huffs out between panting breaths.
I increase the momentum, lashing at her clit with my tongue as I drive my fingers deep inside her and curl the tips in a come-hither motion. Tessa’s hips buck as she starts to writhe, and I apply firm pressure to her abdomen to make sure she doesn’t bounce right off the table.
“Oh, sweet baby Jesus,” she murmurs with a groan. “You really are the G.O.A.T.”
A laugh barks up my throat while I continue to lick and suck at her clit, my fingertips hitting that sweet spot inside her one last time before she shouts her release. Moisture floods around my fingers as her inner walls clench around them, and my dick feels like it might explode as a fresh surge of blood rushes to it.
I need to be inside her. Now.
I give her gorgeous pussy one last lingering lick before pulling on her legs. As soon as she’s firmly on her feet, I spin her around and push her forward until she’s bent over the table’s surface. Her sweet ass is on display, and I bend over to bite it gently as I pull out the condom I’d shoved in my pocket earlier and drop my pants.
Ripping the condom open with my teeth, I roll it on quickly before teasing her entrance with the tip. Bending low over her back, I press a kiss between her shoulder blades before pushing her hair aside and pressing another one to her neck.
“Is this okay?” I ask, pushing my cock between her thighs to rub the tip against her clit.
“Please, Riggs,” she begs, rolling her hips in time with the movements of my thrusts.
I let her ride the length of my cock for a few more seconds, then pull back to align it with her entrance. Gripping her hips, I slam into her, a moan slipping through my lips when her slick, warm pussy envelopes me. I remain still for several moments, relishing the feeling of her inner walls fluttering around me. Then, keeping myself buried deep inside her, I rotate my hips slowly.
“Oh, shit,” she yelps, her back arching as she pushes up on her toes, driving me even deeper.
“You feel so fucking amazing,” I mutter as I pull out to the tip before slamming back in. “You’re so wet for me, Tessa.”
“Yes,” she breathes even though it wasn’t a question. “Just for you, Riggs.”
Fuck. Those words break my control. A growl rumbles in my chest as I set a furious rhythm with my hips, railing into her as the sweet music of her gasps and groans reverberate in my ears. I’m an animal, unable to resist chasing my release, and I know I’m not going to last long.
Maybe one day, if Tessa and I keep doing this, I’ll be able to last longer than a few minutes. But now? After wanting her for more than a decade? There’s no fucking way to rein in my need.
Curling over her, I slip my right hand from her hip to her lower abdomen. I slide it south until my fingertips burrow into her slick flesh to find her swollen clit. I tap it lightly before smoothing quick circles around the sensitive nub, and Tessa tenses beneath me.
“That’s it, baby. Let go. Come for me.”
She screams as her pussy tightens around my cock. My own orgasm streaks through me, a flash of electricity that shoots from my toes, to my balls, to my cock as I shout with relief. I drive deep inside her, holding still as Tessa’s inner walls clench and flutter around me.
I tap her clit once more, and she squeals and bounces as her pussy tightens around me again. She’s so fucking sensitive. So responsive. I could stay right here, just like this, forever.
She twists a bit, and I realize I’m holding her naked torso against the hard table with my weight. Lifting immediately, I pull out of her slowly, enjoying the way her body shivers at the feel of it. She pushes herself up and spins to face me, her smooth cheeks flushed with pleasure. I open my arms, and she steps into my embrace.
We don’t speak as we hold onto each other for several beats, then she leans back and meets my gaze with an arched brow.
“Don’t read too much into what I said, Malone. I was under the influence.”
“Oh, you mean that bit about how I really am the greatest of all time?” I ask with a smirk. “Or the part about how you only get wet like that for me?”
“That’s not what I said,” she grumbles as she tries to pull out of my arms.
Tightening my grip so she can’t escape, I chuckle. She stops fighting and snuggles into me, making my heart pound with longing. This is the way it was between us, before everything blew up. Of course, we were never naked in post-orgasmic bliss, but the affection was real and solid. Just like this.
Stepping back, I take her hand and lead her to my bedroom. Without stopping I pull her into the bathroom and turn on the shower to warm it before pulling off the condom, tying the end, and tossing it into the wastebasket.
As soon as the water hits the right temperature, I lead her into the shower and take my time washing her from head to toe. She groans with pleasure as I dig my fingertips into her scalp, massaging in the shampoo as the suds trail down her back and over the curve of her ass. I repeat the process with conditioner, then rinse her clean before she turns to give me the same treatment.
Turning off the water, I open the door to grab a clean towel from the rack. I wrap it around her before reaching out for my own towel, securing it around my waist. Once we’ve dried off and Tessa has squeezed most of the water from her hair, we curl up in my bed, her head on my chest as our legs tangle together.
“You know, it’s my turn to attack in our war. You should watch your back,” I say as my fingers sift through her damp hair.
“No way,” she argues. “You thwarted my attempt, so it’s still my turn.”
“Nuh-uh,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “My lawn is peppered with toilet paper rolls right now. I’m up.”
She tilts her head back to meet my eyes with a wide grin. “Bring it.”
As I finish cooking the scrambled eggs, I smile for the hundred-millionth time as thoughts of last night dance through my head. Tessa slept in my arms, then tried to sneak out without waking me this morning when she needed to go home to get ready for work. I grabbed onto her without opening my eyes, and she laughed, pressing a few kisses to my chest before giving me a quick, hard smack on the lips. She wriggled free, promising to text me later before giving me a fine view of her bare ass as she walked out to go find her clothes––which were still on my kitchen floor.
“Are you almost done? I’m starving.”
Without answering, I pull the frying pan from the burner and spin around to dish out the eggs onto the four plates I have lined up on the island. Miles, who’d asked the question, rubs his hands together with anticipation as Foster and Porter talk about the Bandits and our upcoming debut season.
“Come and get ‘em,” I say after placing four slices of bacon on each plate.
Miles leaps from his chair and snags a plate, shoving a piece of bacon into his mouth as he turns to move back to the table. Foster shakes his head and grabs his own plate, and I spot a fresh tattoo on his forearm.
“New ink?” I ask as I round the island to join the guys at the table.
“I got it a couple of days ago,” he says, holding out his arm and twisting it so I can see the black Bandits logo inked on his skin.
“Risky choice,” Porter says, pointing at the design. “What if you get traded after your two-year contract is up?”
Lifting a hand, I reach out and smack Porter on the back of the head. “If anyone’s getting traded, it’s you, Crawford.”
“No way,” he says, lifting his palms into the air. “I’ve got the best hands in football.”
“He does have great hands,” Miles says, waggling his eyebrows.
“Like you’d know,” Porter shoots back, tossing a balled-up napkin at Miles’ head.
“I’m just saying I’m glad I don’t have to defend against you when you attempt to go all the way. Those hands are legendary. A tight end, on the other hand,” he says, looking pointedly at Foster, “I can handle all night long.”
I laugh while Porter rolls his eyes and Foster groans. Football terms really do sound sexual when you think about it, and Miles loves to mess with us by making them as dirty as possible.
“All right, enough of that,” I say. “I invited you guys over this morning because I need help planning my next prank on Tessa.”
“Did she get you back for the car thing?” Miles asks before shoveling eggs into his mouth.
“She tried,” I say, grinning. “I sacked her just as she was preparing to toss toilet paper all over my house.”
“The quarterback making a sack. Nice,” Foster says, holding up a fist.
I bump mine against it, saying, “Even though I stopped her, it’s my turn. You guys have any ideas?”
“How about condoms? We could blow some up and leave the rest intact so you can use them when you finally get into her pants,” Miles throws out with a smirk. Something must show on my face, because he drops his fork and straightens in his chair. “Oh, shit. You already slept with her, didn’t you?”
“We’re here to discuss the prank war,” I say, my voice firm enough to brook no argument. “And no condoms. It’s juvenile.”
“This whole prank war is juvenile,” Foster sighs.
“I think it’s fun,” Porter says. “You remember what fun is, don’t you, McKenna?”
He punches Foster on the arm, and the latter shrugs, grumbling, “I know how to have fun.”
“Any other ideas?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation back on track.
“I might have a good one,” Porter says, his lips curving upward. “Ever watch that show where the four friends try to embarrass each other and play pranks and shit on the loser?”