Page 85 of Chasing Headlines
Her head tipped back, her mouth opened in a soft moan as my tip found her entrance. She sunk down, taking every inch of me. Those pink-tipped tits in my face. My mouth, my tongue all over them.
Pressure built low in my abdomen, like storm clouds gathering—charged with lightning. I held my breath, my hand tightened around my shaft, moving faster. I couldn't hold on to the fantasy I conjured any longer, my brain flipping through images of anything that would push me over the edge.
I pressed her in that wet shirt against the wall. Her legs wrapped around me as I thrust into her.
The pressure inside me crystallized. And for a glorious moment . . . I felt nothing. Weightless. A couple more strokes and I'd come. A moan escaped my lips. I gasped for air against the crushing weight. An unbearable heat. My entire body strung tight to the point of breaking.
I shattered, pitching forward, my lungs burning, gasping. Pleasure raced through me like stormwater across a desert plain, turning my insides into liquid euphoria. I shuddered as I came.
I lay there afterwards in a half-conscious state, drifting along—hopefully back to sleep. I should clean up the mess I'd made. I needed to get up and head off to morning strength training. But for this moment in time . . .
“Your shirt, Breslin.”
I huffed out a breath. No one called me that. Not anymore. Mr. Cooper or Coop was all I ever heard. Almost like the name Mom gave me died with her.
My heart panged—the pain echoing through my system. The real world had returned to torment my brain—already.
I let out a long breath that turned into a groan.Fuck.It was time to face the day.
“Breslin . . .”
Her voice and her hand on my arm pulled me to a dead halt just outside the training facility.
“I need to ask you something.” Her expression wasn't the usual so-pleased-with-herself look that she usually wore.
I ducked my head to peer over my sunglasses. “No comment.”
“Has anyone ever told you what an inspiring conversationalist you are? Your turns of phrase alone.” She waved a hand then fixed me with a dark glare. “Are complete garbage.”
Yeah, I liked the silent, naked version of her, better. “Go away.”
“I can't. This is important.” Her voice wavered, and her hand on my arm tightened. A warmth tingled through my skin.
“I know we're not . . . that you hate me, even though I've literally donenothingto deserve it. You're discriminating against me because of my work as a reporter.” She released my arm. “And while I get it, I do. I took it personally, as a Sabers fan, when—” She ran a hand over her forehead. “Not now. Maybe someday, but not yet.”
I didn't have time for this. But something was going on. She said it was important. “Are you here as a reporter or as Coach's filing assistant?”
She straightened. “Neither. Right now, I'm just me.” One eyebrow went up. “Please, Coop. I have to know something. Off the record, I swear.”
I let her tug my arm a few steps away. A weird burning-tingling sensation dug clawed into my stomach.I don't like this.
I pulled my sunglasses up to look her in the eyes. Red veins stood out more prominently than they should. And her makeup couldn't hide the puffiness. The claws in my abdomen stabbed deeper. “What is it?”
“Please tell me you didn't.” She crossed her arms but ducked her head. “God, I don't know how to say this, but if I don't.”
“Speak. Now.”
“I don't believe it was you.” The words whooshed out in a rush.
“What?”
“Someone hacked the ECON testbank.” She cringed with her whole body.
“ECON Test bank. What?” I tried to connect words into something that made sense. “Wait, hacked?”
“A source turned over a record of accesses. You're there. Not just there-there, but like?—”
“Wait, hold up, stop.” Brain clicked and whirred. “You think I’m ahacker?”