Page 33 of Checking from Behind

I screamed as Tara and Chelsea grabbed me, the three of us jumping and screaming. After the game, Tara invited me to dinner with the team. "We're headed to Luca's in the North End. It's a tradition when the wives and girlfriends are present. You should come, and I know you don't know me that well, but if you need a ride I can take you."

It was on the tip of my tongue to say no, but the excitement of the game had done something to me and I knew Marshall was probably going to go and would want me there.

"Okay, I will come. I can wait for Marshall to give me a lift." I smiled.

"Nonsense, those men take their time, worse than us women." She giggled.

"Thanks, I'll text Marshall and let him know."

"Already done." She said holding up her phone and shaking it. "Let's go."

We walked into the Italian restaurant and stopped inside the doors. They must have known we were coming because we were immediately taken to a private room with three long tables. The moment the guys walked in Marshall found me and he gave me a smile that made my stomach flip. He came over and sat down next to me, draping his arm across the back of my chair, pressing his knee against mine, before he leaned in and pressed his lips to my cheek.

"Hope you're having fun." He whispered, his lips tickling my ear.

"I am. You were incredible tonight."

"Nah, I got lucky." He said, leaning in and pressing his lips to mine. "Hopefully, that luck will continue later tonight." He winked.

My cheeks heated at the thought.

"You're fucking sexy as hell when you blush." He whispered in my ear.

The evening was full of laughter. Marshall kept his arm on the back of my chair the entire night. He was there, present, and I kept leaning into that steady presence. He was so different from Brett that it hurt because I realized that this was what I'd been missing. As the evening came to a close I exchanged numbers with Tara, she made me promise we'd sit together at the next game.

"Thank you, for tonight." I said, as we drove through Boston back to our neighborhood.

Marshall turned and looked at me from the drivers' side seat and smiled.

"I'm really glad you came tonight."

I leaned across the center console and kissed him without hesitation. I was tired of pretending that I didn't want him. The moment my lips touched his, he kissed me back with his eyes still on the road. The moment we stopped at a light, he placed his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me a little closer.

When we got back to his place, he pulled the truck in his driveway and cut the engine, and together we walked over to my place and right to my door. I slid the key into the lock, but before I opened the door I turned to him.

"Remember how you said you hoped your luck would continue tonight?" I questioned.

Marshall nodded.

"I want you to come inside."

"Yeah? You're sure?" He asked, bringing his hand to my cheek.

"I am going to need you to be a little more specific about what you want when we get inside." He said, studying my eyes as his thumb traced my jaw.

I could feel the heat rise from the pit of my stomach into my cheeks. I leaned into him and whispered, "I want your mouth on me, until I beg you to stop. And then I want you inside of me, and I don't want you to be gentle about it."

His grip tightened on the back of my neck, and something shifted in his eyes. He shoved his hand past me and turned the key, pushing the door open. We'd barely made it through the front door before our jackets were off. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned my blouse while I pulled at his belt, both of us stumbling to the bottom of the stairs, kissing.

He pressed me against the wall in the hallway, his mouth hot on my neck while his hands worked the clasp of my bra. The second it was off, his mouth dropped to my breast, his tongue circling my nipple until I arched into him. I could feel how hard he was through his pants and I reached down, palming his cock through the fabric. He groaned against my skin.

"You said you didn't want gentle," he said, low and rough against my ear.

"I don't."

He yanked my skirt up around my waist and pulled my panties to the side. His fingers found me first—two of them sliding through the slick heat between my legs, and I gasped, gripping his shoulders. He stroked my clit in slow, deliberate circles until my hips bucked against his hand.

"Fuck, you're wet." His voice was barely above a growl.