Page 28 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Player

His eyes flash. “You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about tasting you.”

He gives me a hot, opened-mouthed kisses up my thighs. His tongue trails a path up and down, leaving tingles in his wake. His hand slides up, parting my folds and finding my most tend spot.

His thumb moves slowly at first, then increases its pressure sending immediate pleasure through me.

I call out his name as I fall back against the bed. I feel him grin against me as his tongue joins his fingers.

“Please,” I cry. “Please, please, please.”

The pleasure builds and grows as he slides a finger inside of me, then another. His tongue works my pussy, pushing me closer to the edge.

Until I fall over. Pleasure pulsing through me in wave after wave.

When at least I can breathe, and still in a haze of passion, I pull him up to kiss me. Tasting myself on his lips. It’s oddly intoxicating.

“Condom?” I ask.

He hesitates a moment. “Fuck. I don’t normally carry one with me.”

Before my mind can draw conclusions, he adds, “Because I don’t really do this.”

I blink in surprise. “You don’t?”

“I know football players have a reputation. But I’ve never been one for anonymous hookups.”

My heart swells and I stroke his cheek. “Me neither.”

Then, I add, “Luckily Monica seems to have thought this might happen.”

His eyes widen and I direct him toward one of the shopping bags.

Shaking his head, and growing adorably red in the cheeks, he finds a box of condoms—extra large—and pulls one out.

I reach for it and slide it over his hard cock, savoring the feel of his rigid length. Extra large condoms. I hope they aren’t too snug on him.

Once we’re protected, I pull him back toward me, but he has other ideas. Lifting me up, he helps me kneel on the edge of the bed and comes in behind me. Stroking my pussy again, he spreads the moisture, preparing me to be stretched.

He grips my hips and thrusts inside of me.

I cry out, reaching my hand over my shoulder to grab his hair.

He thrusts in and out, faster, harder, sliding one hand up to cup my breast, giving my nipple a tug to send dueling ebbs of desire through me.

And as I can feel the familiar pangs of pleasure pulse through me, his soft voice whispers in my ear, “I’m so glad your old college friend changed his number.”

SIX

CAL

Monday morning comes too soon. Especially because I have to spend most of Saturday and the whole night away from Jo.

Our team always stays in a hotel next to the stadium the night before a game. I’ve never minded before.

But I also never had Jo.

After I left her bed Saturday morning, I didn’t see her again until pre-game warm-ups. But when I looked up to the suite and saw her sitting next to Beau’s wife, something healed inside of me.

After the game, I introduced her to some of my teammates. We had a private dinner in her hotel room.