Page 38 of Sportsball is for Lovers

“I’m a good girl,” Sadie says more firmly. She steps forward and her hand cups my cock, squeezing my hard length over my pants.

Wrenching her hand away, I pin it behind her back, then grab her other arm, leaving her trapped in my hands’ shackles. The angle forces her chest out, and I lean down to bite roughly against the point of her nipple.

“Only good girls get my cock.”

The words come out automatically and she arches against me. She cries out, thrusting her chest forward.

“Please, sir.”

“I don’t think you’re a very good girl right now,” I tell her seriously, before I release one hand. Her arms stay crossed behind her back.

As I pinch and pluck at her breast, her mouth falls open, her gasps the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

“I’m a good girl,” she repeats. “Please, sir.”

I meet her lips for a bruising kiss, my tongue plunging into her mouth.

She may be submissive in this role, but she isn’t a passive sunflower. She gives as good as she gets, meeting me eagerly.

When I palm her breast, massaging the firm swell over the bodice of her dress, she gasps again.

“Can you be quiet, good girl?” I graze her nipple with my teeth again and am gifted with the softest pant.

“I can be quiet, Sir. I can do it for you.” Her voice is breathy, her pupils dilated, her mouth parted.

I trace her lips with my fingers, and she automatically sucks my thumb into her mouth, swirling her tongue around me.

Bringing my mouth to her ear, I demand:

“Prove it.”