Nattie bounces into the room, heading for the stairs. She stops at the bottom with one foot up. “Hey, QB, I’m going to go get a shower.” She smiles at her man.
Her man closes his laptop immediately.
“Thanks for the help, Sabrina. I’ll catch you guys later.”
Nattie runs up the stairs with Brady hot on her heels.
Brina suppresses a laugh. “Guess he was dirty.”
“Yeah, something like that.” I hold my hand out to her.
She takes it, a little more hesitance showing now than earlier tonight, but that smile is still there, so I go with it.
“Pretty sure we have some unfinished business, Princess.”
“Aiden,” she sighs. “Why do you call me that? Princess?”
Turning to face her fully, I move her hair away from her face. “Because you were always untouchable royalty in our town. Your father is the senator. Your grandfather was the governor. You’re royalty, Princess. And it always reminded me that you were so far out of my reach that I needed to remember my place.” She shoots me a look that says she’s not buying it. “It’s not about the money, or the fame, it’s about the kind of woman you are and the type of man you’re supposed to be with. That man isn’t me, Sabrina. He’s not a jock. He’s a lawyer, or a doctor, or a politician’s son.”
Sabrina takes a step closer. “And what if I tell you I don’t want a lawyer, or a doctor, and that I’d run away from a politician’s son?” She gently traces the muscles of my arms, then lays one hand over my shoulder, and the other gently lays over my heart, careful not to put pressure on my injured shoulder. She leans up on her toes, taking what she wants and kissing me gently.
I pull her in tighter with one hand at the small of her back and angle our bodies so we aren’t crushing my immobilized arm. I wish I had the use of both arms right now so I could throw her over my shoulder and carry her up those stairs, but that’s not happening tonight.
Sabrina pulls her pretty face away from me and leans her head on my chest, her fingers nimbly playing with the hair at my neck.
Moving my face to her ear, I nuzzle her hair. “You wanna go upstairs?”
“God, Aiden. I really, really do.” I can tell from her tone there’s more coming.
“But . . .?” I wait for her to fill in the blank.
“But I should really go back to my dorm. I have a few things I still need to do tonight to tighten up a report I’m turning in tomorrow.”
I blow out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding until now. “Okay, Princess. I’ll take you home.” Even I can hear the disappointment in my own voice.
Still not pulling her head up, I hear my name, barely above a whisper falling from her lips, “Murphy?”
“Yeah, Princess?”
“Nattie said you guys have a bye-week next weekend. Is she right?”
“Yeah. We’ve got a game in Boston this weekend and a bye the following weekend. Hopefully, I’m back to 100 percent for the game after that.”
“Murph?”
I place my finger under her chin and force her head up so I can see her eyes when she speaks. Then I wait her out.
“Any chance you’d want to go to a fundraiser in the city with me that weekend? My father is being presented with an award, and his campaign wants to milk it for all its worth. I’ve been instructed to be there with a suitable date, and I’d really like it if you’d go with me.”
“You think I’m suitable? Not scared I’d embarrass you at some fancy, formal event?”
The hand resting on my chest grabs my shirt and pulls. “Oh, shush. I know you’ve attended stuff like this before. I’m not the only one standing here who’s grown up with a silver spoon in their mouth, smartass.”
“Oh, I’ll never again doubt the things you can do with that mouth, or how pretty it looks with something in it, Princess. I’ll go on one condition.”
She tilts her head to the side as her teeth rake across her plump bottom lip.
My cock stirs again. Fuck. What this girl does to me is not normal.
“What’s the condition?”
I shake my head, “Nuh-uh, Princess. Agree, then I’ll tell you.”
She pulls her arms away from me, and I cringe at the loss of contact.
Hands on her hips now, she studies me. “If you make me regret this, I will maim you, Aiden Murphy. Fine, I agree. What is your condition?”
“Spend the night with me Saturday night after my game. Let me pick you up after we fly home.”
“That’s it? Where’s the catch?”
“No catch. Come home with me Saturday.” I hold my breath, waiting for her answer.
The slow smile I’m rewarded with hits me harder than any play on the field ever has. I want to be the man who keeps that smile there. I want to be worthy of this beautiful woman who’s slowly changing my definition of winning.
Group Text:
Nattie: *Gif of Serena & Blair from Gossip Girl shrieking*
Nattie: Somebody’s keeping secrets!
Chloe: You’re pregnant!
Nattie: WTF is wrong with you?
Annabelle: Spill it Sinclair. I just saw you yesterday, and there was no baby bump.
Chloe: You finally gave him anal!
Nattie: CHLOE!!!
Nattie: Care to share the news, Brina?
Chloe: Sabrina - you have news?
Chloe: Oh wait, I know this news. It’s old.
Annabelle: WHAT! What news?
Nattie: Sabrina . . .
Sabrina: You suck, Nat.
Sabrina: I showered at Nat’s last night.
Nattie: And . . .
Annabelle: And . . .
Chloe: Did you get on your knees like I told you to?
Nattie: WTF, Chloe? You knew?
Annabelle: Knew what? Who’s knees? Oh shit . . . Murphy or Bash?
Annabelle: OOHHH - Or both? Yum.
Annabelle: I wouldn’t mind being in the middle of that sandwich.
Nattie: Belles!!!
Annabelle: Oh, shush it, sister. I haven’t had sex with something that wasn’t rechargeable in over two years. Let a girl dream.
Chloe: BAHAHAHAHAH
Sabrina: Fine. Condensed version. Murphy slept over last weekend. We had some fun. Not ALL the fun, but some fun.
Sabrina: I said something I shouldn’t have and owed him an apology.
Chloe: And . . . did your big mouth get you out of the trouble it got you into?
Sabrina: Let’s just say he isn’t mad at me anymore, and he’s going to be my date for my father’s fundraiser in two weeks.
Annabelle: Holy Shit. You go, girl!
Chloe: You got awful quiet there, Nat.
Nattie: I’ll pay up when I see you this weekend.
Annabelle: I’ll get mine to you next time I see you.
Sabrina: What are you talking about? What $$$?
Chloe: We’ve been betting on when you and Murphy would finally hook up.
Nattie: I had next spring.
Annabelle: I was in for next summer. Thought Murph would take longer to settle.
Chloe: I had faith. I knew it was coming.
Sabrina: Are the guys in on it too?
Nattie: . . .
Chloe: . . .
Annabelle: . . .
Sabrina: You all suck.
19
Sabrina
I’ve just climbed into my bed on Thursday night when my phone pings, alerting me to a new text. I swear to God, if it’s the girls again, I might kill them all.
Murphy: Hey, Princess . . . What’cha wearing?
Sabrina: Pajamas. I’m in bed.
Murphy: The ones with the little crown?
Sabrina: Nope. It’s cold in here tonight. I’m in flannel PJs. Nothing sexy.
Murphy: I doubt that.
Sabrina: How was your practice?
Murphy: Fucking sucked. My arm isn’t 100 percent yet, so I got pulled today for non-contact drills.
Sabrina: When do you l
eave?
Murphy: Tomorrow morning. We’ll do a walk-thru when we get to the stadium tomorrow afternoon.
I see the dots which means he’s typing. They start then stop multiple times before my phone rings, and I see Murphy is FaceTiming me. Swiping right, I’m greeted with his handsome face in the low light of what I now know is his bedroom. His green baseball hat is sitting backward on his head, and those mossy-green eyes are sparkling back at me.
“Princess.” God, that voice does things to me.
I’m suddenly nervous. Why does he make me feel like a schoolgirl? “Hey.”
“It was easier to call than keep texting. Plus, this way, I get to see the non-sexy pajamas. Show me.”
I shake my head but do as I am told and angle my phone down my body. I’m wearing my favorite flannel pajamas. They’re white with red cherries and tiny black dots. Cute, but I wouldn’t call them sexy.
“If I were there, you wouldn’t need flannel to keep you warm.”
“Nope.” I make sure to pop the “p”. I suck at flirting in person, and I think I may be even worse over the phone.
“If I was there, you wouldn’t have on all those clothes either.”
“Promises, promises. Less talking, Murph. More showing.” There. That was better.
“Tell me what you’re wearing under that flannel, Princess.”
“Umm . . . Nothing?” Shit. I never sleep in underwear. And what woman wears a bra to bed? God, I take that off the second I walk into my room. Find me any woman with full C’s that likes wearing a bra.
Murphy licks his lips. “Take your pants off for me.”
I feel the flush rise from my chest to my cheeks immediately, but for a reason unknown to me, I place my phone on the bed and kick off my pajama bottoms. Shifting back so I’m leaning against the wall, I grab the phone and get situated.
“Good girl.” He adjusts himself slightly, and it sounds like the covers rustle beneath him.
“Murphy?”
“Yeah, Princess?”
I swallow before answering. “Will you take your shirt off for me?”
He gives me that sexy lopsided grin of his. “Anything for you.” His shirt is gone in my next inhale, and then so is my breath. Sweet Jesus, he really is gorgeous. His chest has a dusting of reddish-brown hair that covers the most exquisite muscles I’ve ever seen. “I’m not gonna ask you to take your shirt off tonight, Sabrina. I want to do that in person. But I want you to unbutton the top two buttons for me.”
I push down the nerves I’m feeling as I undo my top buttons.
His eyes shine as he gets a glimpse of the valley between my breasts. “Tell me, Princess, are you wet for me?”
“Murphy . . .” This is SO not something I’d have ever thought I'd be doing, but I have to admit, I’m enjoying taking orders from this gorgeous man. I keep the phone on my face while my other hand travels between my thighs. Slowly, I circle my clit and let out a sigh.
He pulls his hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair. “God, you’re gorgeous, Princess. Are you touching yourself? Rubbing your clit? Tell me what you like. What makes you feel good? Your fingers? A vibrator?”
My fingers speed up with the sound of his voice. I nod my head, then answer, “Both. Either. My clit is really sensitive. I usually just need to play with it to come.” I can’t believe the words that are coming out of my mouth, but I can’t stop them. “Are you touching yourself?”
“Fuck yeah, I am. How could I not? You can’t see what I’m seeing right now. You look so sexy, Sabrina. I can’t wait to fuck you Saturday night. I want to own your orgasm. I want to lick that pretty pussy until your thighs are trembling. Then, when your entire body is primed and ready, I’m gonna slide my cock in, nice and slow, until you’re begging me to move. I want to bury myself so deep that you’ll feel me for days.”
I start to pant as I get closer.
“That’s it, baby. Pretend it’s me licking that perfect little clit. Pinch it, Princess.”
Fuck. That’s all it takes. I come harder than I ever have by myself. Then make the mistake of looking at my little box on FaceTime. My chest is rising and falling, my cheeks are pink, and my hair looks messy. I look freshly fucked and suddenly wish Murphy was here instead of on the other end of a phone.
I look over at him and can see his arm is moving.
“Fuck, Murph. I just came so hard. God, I’m drenched.” I’m trying here, but I sound ridiculous to myself.
He must not think so though.
His face goes rigid. His voice is strained, “Show me.”
I run my fingers through my juices to give him a show before I have a chance to change my mind. Pulling my fingers up to the phone screen, I show him before I push my shirt open and swirl my wet fingertips over my still hidden nipple. He’s just getting an eyeful of inner side boob, but it makes him groan long and hard, and I’m pretty sure he just came.
Mission accomplished.
“Jesus, Brina. I can’t wait to own your orgasms.” Why does that sound so hot?
“Saturday night,” I whisper.
“Yeah, Princess. Saturday night. Rest up while you can.”
God, yes!
20
Murphy
I hate the travel day before a game. It’s a shit ton of hurrying up, just to sit around and wait.
We met at the school at eight this morning to get on the buses for the flight to Boston. The flight is less than two hours, and it beats the hell out of spending half the day on a bus with a bunch of fuckin’ dudes, but for some reason, I’m still on edge. I’m trying my best to zen out, watching the top of the white puffy clouds float by, when Bash comes back from the bathroom and drops down in the seat next to me.
“What’s going on with you today? You thinking about a certain long-legged senator’s daughter?” The sarcastic tone in his voice is pissing me off.
Fucker. I glance at Bash before looking back at the calm blue sky. “Sorry, did I miss my appointment, Doc? Is this a therapy session? Cause I’m good, brother. I’m not thinking about Sabrina. I’m just thinking about the game tomorrow and how I want to win. Which is also what you should be thinking about.”
“She’s a cool girl. It’s okay if you’ve got a thing for her. You know that, right?”
He’s not gonna let this go. “Bash, man. Yeah, I’ve got a thing for Sabrina. I’m not hiding it, and I’m not upset about it. I’m not Brady. I don’t need to be pushed into making a move. My move’s been made. I’m not overthinking it. I’m picking her up tomorrow night and bringing her back to our place, so you might want to make sure you know where your headphones are if you don’t want to be kept up all night.”
Bash starts to hum, “Another one bites the dust.”
“Nobody’s biting the dust just yet. Don’t get ahead of yourself. We’re hanging out and having fun. What’s going on with you? How was dinner with your pops this week?”
He shrugs, then looks away. “It is what it is. He and I are never gonna be on the same page.”
“Yeah, man. But at least he gives a big enough shit to want to know what’s happening in your life.”
“More like, he wants to control my life.”
Coach Barnett stands up, clearing his throat and effectively ending our conversation. He’s at the front of the plane and starting to give us the “Behave yourselves, you’re representing Kroydon University” speech. We get this speech weekly. It doesn’t matter if we’re home or away, he wants us on our best behavior in front of the fans and the media.
He doesn’t ask an assistant to speak for him. It’s always Coach. He’s as old-school as they come, and no one would dare question his methods, because he runs one of the top winning football programs of the last century.
Coach Barnett’s in his late sixties, having coached for Kroydon for over twenty-five years. With white and grey hair, a thick mustache, and broad shoulders, he stands smaller than most of us, at five-foot-ten, but what he lacks in height, he makes up for in pres
ence. This man dominates any room he enters.
Coach quickly goes over our schedule for the day.
Check-in at the hotel, then lunch.
Tapes and walk-through, and then I’ll spend time with the trainer.
Dinner and bed check.
Sounds simple enough, but it’ll take all damn day.
We don’t get to choose our roommates. They were assigned to us back in August and, barring any injuries or roster changes, they stay the same for the entire season. Upperclassmen are typically paired with underclassmen. They’re supposed to be a good influence, but most of the time, they just teach you how to sneak beer into the rooms.
I lucked out and got paired up with Jamie Dawson. By bed check that night, the two of us sit on our side-by-side double beds, watching WWE Friday Night Smackdown in a shoebox-sized room. If I stand in the center of it, I can touch either bed, the dresser with the TV on it, and the mini-fridge. Definitely close quarters.
Jamie’s phone hasn’t stopped vibrating all night.
“Dude. Are you sexting with me right here? At least take it to the bathroom.”
“Suck it, Murph. You’re just jealous your girl’s been texting me, not you.”
I glare at him, not liking the idea of him and Sabrina talking. I never used to be a jealous motherfucker, but this girl brings it out of me in spades.
Jamie must read the look on my face because he goes from kidding to serious. Both hands go up in defense. “Hey, man. I was kidding. You got a girl I don’t know about, freshman?”
“You met her at the party at the football house.” And now, I feel like a girl at a slumber party. We gonna braid each other’s hair next? I grab my phone and start scrolling social media.
“The hot senator’s daughter? Damn, Murph. You’re moving up in the world. I didn’t know it was like that. I thought you had a different girl riding your dick every night. She must have a magic pussy or something.”
More Than A Game (The Kings of Kroydon Hills Book 2) Page 11