Page 12 of Sportsball is for Lovers

five

. . .

Sadie

A few hours later,I’m getting out of a ride-share at the hotel, wearing a knee-length coat, high-heeled leather boots, and a killer lingerie set beneath my simple leggings and sweater. As much as I’d like to show up in nothing but a bra and panties beneath my coat, it’s also eleven degrees outside, so I dressed for the weather rather than sex.

The sex will come later.

When I told J I was on the way, he sent me a room number, so I bypass the front desk and head directly to the fourth floor and knock on room 1438.

The door swings open almost immediately, and I’m treated to the intoxicatingly handsome stranger I met all those months ago in Tulsa.

“Fancy meeting you here,” J says, his warm, chocolate brown eyes drinking me in.

“How about that,” I tease back.

He takes a step back, wordlessly inviting me into his hotel room, and I follow as if hypnotized.

Also, I really fucking want to.

He’s even more gorgeous than I remember. His winter-pale skin is still a few shades darker than my own and his dark hair has grown out a bit compared to our previous meeting. He’s wearing the same black plastic glasses frames and short beard. His jeans and button-down shirt are simple, casual, without being unkempt.

“So you’re in town for a bit?” I ask, taking off my coat and tossing it onto the desk.

His eyes drink in my curves. “I leave tomorrow night.”

“That’s a shame.” I whip my sweater over my head, revealing my black lace bra. “Guess we’ll have to make the most of our time together, then.”

He moves toward me, caging me in against the dresser. His scent, spicy and fresh, surrounds me, and I can’t help but close my eyes as I try to savor the sensory overload.

“Sober?” he asks.

My eyes flutter open. “I had two beers over three hours,” I report back.

He nods, rubbing the thick layer of stubble on his chin.

“I’m not reading into this,” I tell him.

J raises his eyebrows.

“We matched on the app. It tells you when you’re within a certain distance of another person with a matching kink. That’s all this is.”

He threads his hands through my hair, finger coiling around a particularly spirally wave.

“And if it’s not?” he asks, his voice quiet but firm. My stomach flutters.

“You’re only passing through. Let’s not pretend it’s more.”

J cups my face, tilting my chin up. I rise onto my tiptoes and he kisses me. This is too sweet, too gentle for a spur-of-the-moment hotel room hookup.

Pulling back, I’m ready to give him a piece of my mind. I signed up to be fucked by a Pleasure Dom, not this lovey-dovey bullshit.

“What the fuck is this?” I demand.

J tilts his head, squinting at me. “Excuse me?”

“This.” I swirl a finger at his face. “I thought you were going to fuck me.”