24. Mine
24
Foster
When I leave Hadley’s room, I head straight for the bathroom down the hall. Closing myself inside, I lean back against the door and try to will my angry cock to lay down and behave. Once I have some semblance of control, I walk to the sink to brush my teeth.
I wanted to kiss Hadley so badly, but with that being her first time being on the receiving end of oral sex, I thought tasting herself on my mouth might have been too much. I smile around my toothbrush as I recall the last few minutes.
She’s so responsive. And so fucking sexy with her soft, rounded curves and velvet skin.
Even her shyness when I stripped her bare turned me on. She’s so fucking innocent and sweet, so eager to please and be pleased. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to refuse her offers to take care of me in return.
She doesn’t owe me anything, and until she realizes that, I have to remain strong. Until she believes that I find pleasure in pleasing her, and that I don’t need reciprocation, I’ll keep making her come while denying myself the same gratification.
But it’s fucking hard, in every sense of the word.
I take solace in knowing the wait will make the reward that much sweeter.
When I finish brushing my teeth, I wash my face and hands. By the time I’m done, my cock isn’t straining quite so hard against my jeans. I flip off the light and leave the bathroom, and when I walk by Hadley’s bedroom, the door is wide open. I peer inside, and the room is empty. I look for the t-shirt I tossed on the floor, but it’s nowhere in sight. Shrugging to myself, I walk across the hall to my room to grab a fresh one and pull it on.
By the time I get to the bottom of the stairs, I can hear Hadley humming a bright tune in the kitchen. My mouth stretches into a wide smile, but it drops when I round the corner and spot her.
She’s dancing from one side of the kitchen to the other, a wide grin on her face as she twirls and shakes her ass. Setting two tubs of ice cream on the counter, she twirls again, yanking open a drawer and pulling out an ice cream scoop. She looks like an angel.
And she’s wearing my shirt.
A sense of possessiveness the likes of which I’ve never felt before rises up inside me. Seeing Hadley in my clothes makes me flash hot and my heart beats out an unsteady, harsh rhythm in time with a singular word pulsing through my mind.
Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.
Hadley looks over and freezes when she spots me, offering me a smile with rose-colored cheeks as she motions toward the ice cream with the scoop still clutched in her fingers. I return her smile as I snap out of the trance I’d fallen into. I join her in the kitchen, curling an arm around her waist and pressing a light kiss to her lips.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she whispers, plucking at the collar of the t-shirt.
“I love it,” I say, pecking a kiss to her nose before releasing her. “It looks much better on you than it does on me.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she teases. “You look pretty damn hot in it.”
I chuckle as I turn around and reach up to swing open a cabinet door. Pulling down two bowls, I close the door before turning back to Hadley.
“We have chocolate chunk and cookie dough,” she says as she takes the bowls from me and sets them on the counter.
“Cookie dough,” I say, forcing thoughts of carb counts out of my mind.
My teammates and I try to limit the amount we ingest during football season, but I already screwed up my macros during dinner. What’s a bowl of ice cream going to hurt?
Plus, it gives me the perfect excuse to spend more time with Hadley instead of going to bed and wondering how she’s feeling. I know how she’s feeling. I can see it in the lightness of her steps, the perpetual smile on her face, and the way she blushes beautifully every time she looks at me.
She doesn’t regret what we just did. Not one little bit.
Not that I was too worried she would. I mean, she did come––twice––and melted into a boneless puddle while telling me how amazing it was. If I’d had doubts about my performance or her enjoyment, she’d effectively quelled them while leaving me with an immense sense of pride.
Hadley scoops ice cream out of the container and drops it into each of the bowls, and when she’s done, I take both containers and slip them back into the freezer. She digs two spoons from a drawer, handing me one. When I take it, she slides one of the bowls in my direction before bending at the waist and bracing her elbow on the counter while she dips her spoon into her own ice cream.
The move makes my shirt ride up a bit, and I catch a glimpse of her bare thighs and a pair of black underwear.
Fuck me.
My cock twitches at the sight, and I tear my eyes away, copying her posture to dig into my own ice cream. The vanilla bursts on my tongue, and the little cookie dough bits are soft and chewy. Hadley buys the good stuff.
“Oh, God. This is so good. Great idea,” she mumbles before pushing another bite between her lips.
“I’m full of great ideas,” I say, and she chuckles before leaning closer to bump her shoulder against mine.
She looks at me, and I realize she has a little ice cream on her upper lip. I can’t resist. I lunge over and lick it off. Her breath stutters at the sudden attack, then she laughs and scrubs a fingertip over the spot.
“I got it all,” I say, grinning as I take another bite.
“Thanks.”
She attempts a deadpan tone with that single word, but her lips twitch as she tries to hold back a smile. I flash her my teeth before shoveling in another bite of ice cream, and she loses the fight. Her joy is blinding and damn near knocks the breath out of me.
“I’m excited to see you play tomorrow,” she says after a few moments of silence.
My heart thumps an irregular rhythm in my chest. The Bandits have fans that come to every home game. Hadley, Tessa, Roxy, and Skye fall into that group. I know they’ve all seen me play, but this feels different.
I’ve never had someone I know and care about come to a game to specifically watch me.
“I have an extra jersey you can borrow, if you want,” I say once I’m sure I can get the words out casually.
Fans wear replicas of my jersey. I’ve seen them, and it warms my heart. Really, it does.
But this is different. Having a girl––no, my girl––wear my jersey would be epic. Like I’m claiming her.
And she’s claiming me.
“I’d love that,” she says softly, and the tense anticipation eases in my chest.
“I’ll bring it to you in the morning before I head to the stadium,” I promise.
She nods, and I catch a glint of happiness in her gray eyes before she looks back down at her bowl. The corner of her mouth curls up, and I can’t help but grin as I look down at my own dessert.
This incredible woman is mine, and tomorrow when she wears my number and cheers just for me, everyone else will know it, too.