Page 96 of Play the Last Card
I close my eyes, my clit grinding against the base of his cock. I can feel my orgasm building. My thighs are aching. I love the slow and sweet with him but I need the fast and rough right now. I need more. I lose control of my movements, my slow grind picking up pace, as I chase the release.
As always, Scott knows what I need. His legs spread slightly and he pushes me onto my back.
I whimper when he slips out, mourning the loss of him inside me.
He’s quick to follow, crawling over me and hooking a knee over his arm. He spreads me wide for him and sinks back into me.
He fucks me in front of the fire, deeply and without ever breaking eye contact. We know each other’s bodies well enough that when he repositions himself and his movements become erratic, that he wants to come.
I reach up, resting my palm on his cheek.
“Will you make me come?” I whimper. He drops his head to my forehead. “Please. I want to comeso badly.”
“Yes. Come for me, baby,” he grunts out.
“You feel so good. So big,” I moan as he slams into me, hitting the spot inside me that only he can.
“Ivy,” he moans, dropping his head into my neck.
A few more strokes, and when I feel his cock pulse inside me and the vibrations of his groan ripple over my skin, I fall over the edge too.
We’re still for a moment. The fire has roared back to life, flames flickering and creating shadows that dance across the room. Chests rise and fall in unison. Bodies tangled and glistening with sweat. Lips find mine and words pass between us in complete silence.
He doesn’t pull out of me when he rolls off of me. Simply switches our positions, so I’m lying across his chest with his softening cock still inside me.
The fire crackles. It’s the only noise in the house. If it hadn’t been, I may not have caught Scott’s next words, whispered so quietly, they are almost lost.
“I think I’m falling for you, Ivy Booker.”
Chapter Twenty
Ivy
“Damn, Scott is onfire tonight,” Katie comments from where she stands next to me in the box.
I arrived at the game late tonight, trying to avoid the press and excitement around the Broncos first playoff game. It’s almost full time and Scott is on the field below us. The crowd is going wild, the noise deafening every time the boys make a few more yards but the game is a close one.
They want this.
Scott wants this.
The ring is why he came to Boston and why he works himself into the ground. Just last night I fell asleep curled into his side on the couch as he watched tape of the opposition over and over, studying them.
I watch as the offensive line sets up for another play down on the field. With only a few minutes left on the clock, the Broncos need to get a touchdown to secure their lead. Scott squats low behind the O-line center. The players are still for a beat, then another.
The ball snaps into Scott’s hands and everyone’s moving. Scott steps back into the pocket, eyes darting around looking for someone.
Katie grabs my arm at the same time as I see the gap but Scott is already running.
“Holy shit,” I curse under my breath. Katie begins to jump up and down because Scott’s broken through and is sprinting down the field. Forty yards … thirty … a defensive player from the other team is on his tail but he’s too fast. Ten more yards.
“He’s going to do it!” Katie screams, her voice matching the deafening noise coming from the fans all around us.
Scott runs into the end zone and slams the ball on the ground. His team mates catch up to him, circling around him and celebrating.
In the middle of it all, he points up into the stands. Towards our box. Towards me.
Katie slaps my arm over and over like I can’t see exactly what she is seeing.