Page 83 of Punked By the Playmaker
No, wait. I knew that sound. One of our phones was going off.
I froze, buried deep inside my wife, who let out a whine. “No, I’m not there yet.”
“Is that your phone or mine?”
Arizona listened intently. “Yours. It’s coming from the floor where your pants are.”
Then it wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait until we were done, and I went right back to fucking my wife like today was our last day on earth.
She clenched around me, her inner walls clamping down on me like a fist, and my balls tightened painfully.
I was ready to blow, but I needed to get her there first.
Releasing my hold on her ass, I dropped one hand between her open thighs, rubbing furiously over her clit, while pinching her nipple with the other. All the while, I continued to pound into her from below.
“Oh fuck! I’m coming!” Arizona shouted loudly enough to bring the ceiling down before her pussy locked down tight, and she convulsed in my arms.
I gripped her hips, grunting as I succumbed to my release, the blinding pleasure shooting through me with the force of a rocket launcher.
The pulsing waves were endless as I emptied deep inside her, filling her with so much cum that it seeped out around my cock, coating our thighs.
Arizona collapsed against my chest, breathing heavily as she came down from her orgasm. Drained myself, all I had the energy to do was run my hands up and down her back, the urge to keep her close stronger than ever.
She hummed against my skin, a pout in her tone. “I have to get back to work.”
“I know.” My fingers tangled in her long, brown locks. “Just one more minute, okay?”
Burrowing into my embrace, she breathed, “Okay.”
Those sixty seconds went by too fast, and I was forced to let her go.
Snagging my shorts off the ground, I pulled my phone out of the pocket and frowned. “The school called and left a message. That can’t be good.”
Arizona was quick to wave off my concern, holding up her own cell and shaking it. “They hit me up too. Probably one of those robocalls they send out to every number on file to let us know about an upcoming fundraiser or some other event.”
She stepped past me, naked, disappearing into the bathroom to clean up.
For some reason, my gut demanded I listen to the voicemail.
Pressing play, I brought my phone to my ear, and a female voice began speaking.
“Hello, Mr. Nixon. This is Cynthia Morris from Seaside Middle School. I have you listed as the emergency contact for both Maisie Thorne and Austin Cleary. Unfortunately, there’s been an incident, and we need you to come down here as soon as possible. Thank you, goodbye.”
My heart dropped to my stomach.
What happened? Were they okay?
Grabbing Arizona’s discarded dress, I walked right into the ensuite, where she was still on the toilet.
Eyes wide, she screeched, “Levi!”
I tossed her clothes at her feet.
“Get dressed. We need to get to the school.”
Chapter 24
Arizona
