22. Sam
sam
. . .
“Oh my God.” My head drops back and Jameson’s lips skim along the column of my neck. His hands grip my hips while he thrusts up into me over and over. My thighs tremble and my inner muscles tighten, sucking him in deeper.
“Your pussy is fucking made for me.” He groans between my breasts, where he lavishes them each with licks and sucks and bites.
My hands clutch his shoulders, his back, the top of his headboard, wherever I can. “Yes,” I tell him, feeling it the same way he does.
“Give me another one.”
I shake my head, even as my body shivers at his command.
Jameson slows his movements and takes my face between his palms, bringing my gaze back to his.
His face is flushed, lips swollen from our kisses, and I’m sure mine are similar.
His lips gently kiss the corners of my mouth before softly moving over my lips until he can pry them apart.
The second I give him access, our tongues meet and twist. My will power wanes and his hands start guiding my hips with a faster, grinding motion.
“Jameson.” I say his name, my voice breathless. His eyes flare with defiance.
“Give me one more, Sam. I need to feel you come undone again on my cock. I need to see you fall apart for me.”
Bracing my hands on his chest, I move steadily that delicious friction building once again. “Jesus, Pretty Girl. I may never let you out of bed today.”
I bend over him and drop my lips to his.
“Need to today, Kane. I have practice then afterwards we can fall back into your bed again,” I promise, my insides fluttering when I see the glint of possessiveness in his eyes.
It’s something that's been happening more often. Since he came back from Vegas a week ago, we haven’t spent a night away from each other.
With his place having more room and privacy, Dylan and I have been there every day after daycare and my classes.
I love seeing him come home from work and I enjoy the domestic bubble of bliss we’ve been creating.
Jameson nips my bottom lip and slams up into me. I feel every inch of him, stretched beyond belief, and the sensation has my head tilting back, ripping a cry from my throat. “You feel amazing.”
“Ride me, Pretty Girl,” He grunts from below me, fingers spread and digging into my hips and thighs. “I need the image of you with your pretty tits swaying in front of my eyes while your pussy swallows my dick whole to get me through the day.”
His dirty words undo me. The idea of him thinking about us all day while he’s working, talking to customers and pouring over his finances set off a spark of lust in me.
I move in rhythm with his thrusts, my breath hitching when his thumb circles my clit, teasing me until I’m panting and on the cusp of another orgasm.
“Look at me.” He growls, one of his hands lacing behind my neck, forcing my head down to his.
My gaze locks with his dark one, his eyes filled with lust, desire, and love.
That one look shakes me to my core, my heart hammering in my rib cage.
He flicks my clit and thrusts up into me harder than before, the noise of our skin echoes in the room.
My body lets go and my pussy spasms around his cock while I come moaning his name.
I feel him come inside me, see the tendons strain in his neck, and the way his chest heaves as he does.
I collapse on top of him and his arms catch me easily. Jameson holds my body to his while we both find our breath, our heartbeats settling in our chests. Once I’m steady again, I lean my head up and kiss the space right under his jaw.
“You have no idea how much I love you, Sammy.”
I can’t help the giggle that escapes me. “Pretty sure I have some idea, Kane.” My inner muscles squeeze around him and he groans.
“Keep doing that and we definitely won’t leave here all day.”
This time I move off of him, falling to his side. “Speaking of, we really should get up and get ready. Dylan will be up soon and I have morning practice.”
“Tell your coach I took care of your cardio this morning,” he jokes, and I pinch his side until we’re both laughing.
“I do prefer your method of cardio over training,” I admit. Jameson gets out of bed and hauls me with him, carrying me in his arms to the shower. Once the water is warm, he helps me in and kisses my forehead.
“You first. If I get in there with you, you’ll just be late.” He closes the door and I laugh.
Quickly washing up, I keep my hair dry, knowing I'll shower again after practice. Once I’m out, Jameson gets in while I finish getting dressed and doing my hair.
By the time I’m ready, Dylan is awake in her room.
I get her up and ready and we all eat breakfast as a family.
When it's time to go, Jameson opens the garage then walks us to my Jeep and gets Dylan situated before I leave. As I pull onto the road, I can still see Jameson in my rearview, watching us go. My heart swells and I can’t stop the smile on my lips the rest of my drive.
Practice is horrible; our coach is really gearing up for the playoffs. Even Riley is exhausted. I’m about to leave the locker room when my coach stops me at the door.
“Campbell, got a minute?” Her face is serious, but there's a glint in her eye too.
“Sure, Coach,” I answer and follow her down the hall.
I thought we would be going to her office and I’m surprised when she leads me out of the arena and to the elevators that go up to the boardrooms and offices of the big-wigs at the university.
The ride up is silent and I’m starting to get nervous when she ushers me into one of the rooms with glass walls.
A man is there waiting for us. He looks familiar, but I can’t place him right away.
“Sam, this is Mike Dorian. He’s one of the directors here at the university,” Coach introduces us. Once I hear his name it registers who he is. I can picture his name on the plaque in front of the building.
I hold out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Director Dorian.”
He shakes my hand, a warm smile on his face. “Call me Mike, Miss Campbell. I’m sorry to ambush you right after practice, but I wanted to touch base about something urgent.”
My spine straightens and my nerves spike. Somehow I manage to sit in one of the leather chairs at the large table, while Mike and my coach sit across from me. “Is something wrong?”
“No, please don’t think anything is wrong.
You are in no trouble at all. I was just approached from a member of the PWHL team in Las Vegas.
They wanted to know if you plan to submit a declaration for the draft this spring.
This person is an old colleague of mine, and he seemed pretty adamant that you consider it,” Mike explains.
My mind blanks. Sure, I always wanted to declare if I was eligible. I thought I had at least another year though. “That seems sudden.” My mind reels through everything he said, slower this time. “Did you say Las Vegas?”
Mike nods and folds his hands on top of the table.
“Yes. It appears he was tipped off about you recently and was reaching out to see when you plan to enter the draft. Your coach didn’t seem to think it was on your radar for this year, but I wanted to check with you. Maybe your plans will change now.”
I squeak out a laugh before slamming my lips shut. “Ah, no. I mean I’ve thought about it, but I don’t have any plans right now.”
Mike seems to look disappointed, but my coach is watching me intently. “Oh. Well, okay then. I will let you get on with your day. But, ah, Miss Campbell, no one would fault you if you wanted to consider it early. Your record already speaks for itself.”
I stand, taking his lead, and nod my head at him. “Thank you, sir. If anything changes, I’ll talk to Coach about it.”
Mike turns to leave and then it’s just me and my coach in the room.
“Seems you have someone looking out for you,” she says.
My face flushes. “I don’t know anyone in Vegas, Coach. And if I was planning to declare, I would talk with you about it, not only to make sure I’m eligible but also to be courteous.”
She studies my face before ushering me from the room. We walk down the hallway and into the elevator quietly. Once we reach the bottom floor, my heart is racing and the cold sweat of anxiety is trickling over my skin.
“I’ll be ready for that chat when you are, Campbell,” Coach tells me softly, before turning and leaving me at the front entrance.
I’m frozen, completely unsure about what just happened.
I feel foolish, and for a second, I think Coach assumed I was trying to enter the draft without telling her.
My heart lurches painfully. I don’t know anyone in Vegas.
Luca, yeah, but he’s a student there. He wouldn’t have that kind of pull.
Something is nagging me about the time frame.
I don’t want to trust my gut on this one, but I also know he would do anything for me. The real questions are why and how?
“Sam.” My name is called behind me, and I jump, turning to find Isla walking toward me. “Sam, are you okay? You look pale.” Frown lines pull at her lips, and her eyes fill with worry.
I shake my head, feeling like my world may come crashing down. “Isla, I think I need that super-secret spy shit you do.”
She doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t even crack a smile. Her expression becomes worried and almost sad. “Is this about Jameson?”
Tears spring to my eyes and I nod. “How did you know?”
“Come with me.” We duck into a study room that athletes can use between practices and sit at the desk. Isla takes out her laptop and I watch as she links another device to it. It looks like an ordinary, black wi-fi box, but the information it pulls on her screen is anything but ordinary.
“Look before I tell you this, I just want to reiterate, it's not spy shit,” she says, and I bite my lip.
“Isla, it totally is. Look at your computer.”