Page 1 of Sportsball is for Lovers

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Sadie

august: tulsa

The stranger’shand fists in my hair, pulling my head back as his fat cock thrusts into me from behind, and my entire brain goes quiet.

“You like that?” he murmurs, his voice hoarse.

Letting out a whimper, I clench around his cock.

“I can’t hear you.” He tightens his grip in my hair.

“Yes.” The word comes out breathy and light. “Please, sir.”

The man fucking me groans. His other hand, on my hip, squeezes my flesh so hard I’m sure there will be a delicious bruise there in the morning.

I only have tonight. After sitting in meetings all day, it’s nice to unwind a bit. Tomorrow, the conference will take up most of my day. After a quick dinner with friends, I board my flight home, and then it’s back to my real life.

When I connected with J on the kink-based app, I didn’t expect much to come of it aside from a quick hookup—wham, bam, and thank you, sir.

Instead, I found a man who fuckslike a dream.

He’s only in town for a moment, too. His profile says he’s based in Denver, but he mentioned in our quick small talk that he’s on the road a lot.

In real life, he’s a thick, gorgeous man with caramel-colored skin about two shades darker than my olive tone, with a broad chest and soft belly covered in a healthy layer of well-trimmed hair. A Continuous Glucose Monitor is implanted on the back of his arm.

Our arrangement was quick: a seven-message exchange of location and details. Because we matched on the app after I scoped out his profile, I knew we’d theoretically be compatible in bed.

And as his hand moves from my hip to my ass, grabbing a generous handful and then giving me a solid smack, it turns out the app’s algorithm got some things right.

I like what I like, and I’m not ashamed of it, nor should I be.

That doesn’t mean finding a Dom who is actually good at taking care of my needs is an easy thing. Too many guys say they’re a Dom but don’t actually care about making sure their partner has a good time. They ruin it for the rest of us.

J, though—he’s good at this. His hand lands on my ass again, slapping the jiggly flesh as his cock slides into me again and again. His belly rests against my ass, and the normal, human contact is reassuring. I don’t need some chiseled bodybuilder wannabe Dom jerk. I need an actual guy who happens to have dominant tendencies.

The downside? It’s one night only. I won’t get this experience again.

He changes the angle, and as his cock hits my G-Spot, I let out a moan. Pleasure coils in my bloodstream and my hand moves to my clit to get me the rest of the way there.

“Did I say you could come?” he growls, pinning my hand to the bed.

That’s what I gave him: my unconditional surrender. That’s what he’s expecting. That’s what I have to offer.

Pulling out, he manhandles me onto my back, then holds my legs open and slides into me again with a shallow thrust. He gathers both wrists into his one-handed grasp, holding them above my head.

This is vulnerable. He has a full-body view now, all my rolls and cellulite and stretch marks. As much as I try to be confident, sometimes it’s more difficult.

But as his dark eyes drink in the sight of my naked body, maybe I’m not giving myself enough credit.

Yeah, I’m big—but so is he. I’m not a delicate waif, but clearly that’s not a problem for him.

With my hands pinned, the position pushes out my chest, and he leans down to my breast. His hand cups the large swell, massaging, and he sucks the tight bud of my nipple into his mouth. The light suction combined with the rasp of his tongue sends me climbing higher.

Finally, he touches me. His fingers on my clit are a welcome relief, and I moan so loud I’m sure the people three hotel rooms down can hear.