by SE Hall
He pushes himself up off the bed and leaves me just long enough to grab a condom out of his jeans and roll it over his steel hard cock. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to look away. He is hung. And now I’m just a little worried as to how all that is going to fit inside me. Even though my body is primed from the mind-blowing orgasm he just gave me and I’m more than looking forward to every inch of what he has to offer, I can’t help but be intimidated by the length and thick girth of what he’s packing. Holy shit.
No wonder he comes on strong and overly-confident, he’s got the goods to back it up and then some.
It’s mere seconds before he’s on top of me again, our naked bodies skin on skin, the sensation driving me mad. His lips crash over mine while he pushes my legs open impossibly wider, then begins to torture-tease me with just the tip of his cock, aiming a playful smirk down at me.
“Is this what you want?” he asks in a low growl, pulling out and rubbing his length through my wetness.
“Yes. God, yes,” I groan shamelessly.
“Say it,” he bites out his demand of more from me. “Tell me exactly.”
“I want your cock,” I beg as I stare directly into his half-lidded, crystal blue eyes. “Fuck me.”
“Oh yeah, that’s what I like to hear,” he hums, thrusting into me with a sexy roar of pure primal desire.
I feel myself expanding more for him each time he drives inside, making me dizzy with the stretch of fulfillment. He lifts my legs over his shoulders, the new angle allowing him to hit me in glorious places, and my loud wail echoes off the walls. He’s so damn deep.
He’s filling me completely, the head of his dick bumping against my G-spot, which is not a myth it would now seem. I gasp at least every other time he plunges forward, reaching the exact right spots. I feel inexperienced and a little embarrassed as I fight off yet another orgasm. He has to be able to tell it’s been awhile for me and I hate that.
I pride myself in always staying composed, but since the moment this tall, gorgeous man with silky brown hair and a sexy smile walked up to me in the club, I’ve been anything but put together. He caught me at a vulnerable time and I guess what I knew he was offering from first glance is something I needed more than I thought, because I didn’t exactly reject his pursuit. It’s useless to examine now, because what he’s doing to me, I do not regret. And it’s not as if I’ll ever see him again. We haven’t even exchanged names.
“Goddamn, you’re tight. I’m about to fucking lose it,” he huffs out then fucks me even faster, gripping my shoulders as he does. He allows my legs to fall to his waist before he eventually wraps one hand around my throat.
His hold there isn’t tight or threatening, just silently demanding. Like he wants me to know he’s in total control. It’s not like me to give in completely, to anything, but I’ll let him have his way a little longer and see how things play out. So far, I’ve loved everything he’s done, and I don’t feel the slightest bit scared or worried that things will get out of hand. There’s a certain something about his domineering presence that has me wanting all he has to give. This is my chance to let go and fully surrender to his carnal expertise. I’ve never had rough sex, and in all honesty, I’m intrigued and beyond turned on by his commands.
“Roll over. I want to watch that fine ass of yours bounce for me,” he orders, pulling out and watching me from the foot of the bed. I start to do so, only to be greeted by a hard slap on my ass, causing me to shriek. I can’t yet tell if I liked it or not because the initial shock is taking me a few seconds to get past.
“That’s right, get it up in the air for me. You’re gonna fucking love this.” His cock’s there, teasing… then he smoothly slides inside me. He finds a firm grip on my hair, only heightening my anticipation of his promise. And when mixed with his deep, gritty voice, I’m already teetering on the edge of orgasm. He’s so damn intense. Everything about him intoxicating and impossible to resist.
He presses his large body over me, his arms braced on either side of my head, and I push back, meeting his forcefulness. I’ve never had someone fuck me from behind with such power. His huge dick easily finds and ignites every single place inside me. So fuck-drunk, out-of-my-mind turned on, I can’t keep from licking and biting one of his bulging arms… to taste him, a delectable mixture of virile male and phenomenal sex. He uses my shoulders for leverage and continues to bury himself inside me, over and over. He’s determined and precise in his every movement and we move further up the bed each time he drives us forward.
How have I gone this long without sex? This is so much better than I remember it ever being in the past and I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk once this guy is finished with me.
I barely recognize my own voice or the delirious cries coming from me while he spanks my ass and fucks me senseless through another orgasm. Honestly, I’ve lost track… unsure if they’re all just one long, beautiful spasm of ecstasy or numerous eruptions.
Holy hell, how is it possible for him to be so damn good at this? I collapse onto the bed, my hands and knees giving out from sheer exhaustion just as he pulls out. Maybe to let me have a break? Nope.
That question’s quickly answered when he lifts my hips and I feel his hot breath right before he buries his face in my pussy again. He takes my clit between his teeth and I moan even louder than before. I’m about to all-out scream, but I’m stopped by the return of his tight grip on my hair.
“You don’t come again until I do. Hold it in.” He stops torturing me with his tongue long enough to plunge back inside me. His thrusts are unbelievably even more determined, and I’m barely holding in my release, when he rumbles out the dirtiest words I’ve ever heard.
“You like my fucking dick, don’t you? Love me stretching your tight little pussy. Tell me I’m not the best you’ve ever had.” His lewd demand is a loud snarl and I don’t even attempt to respond. With how hard he’s fucking me, there’s no way I can fully comprehend what he’s saying, and before I know it, he’s stopped moving and pulls me up by my hair so I’m up on only my knees now too, my back flush to his sweaty chest.
“I’m talking to you.” The heat in his growl hits my ear and I exhale on a groan, literally about to come from his filthy talk, but I battle it, afraid he’ll stop if I come without him.
What the hell is happening to me? I’m letting a stranger ravage me and tell me exactly what to do… he’s just that good.
“You thinking about trying to lie, telling me you’ve had better? Your body already answered for you,” he taunts, all the while still pounding into me. “You’re not the type to get your pretty little ass spanked and you’ve never been fucked like this, have you?”
Not even close. I’ve never had any truly pitiful, laughable experiences, but I’ve also never had…this. Something tells me he’s right and I’m ruined from here on out, because he’ll never be anything more than a one-night stand and I highly doubt I’ll ever be fortunate enough to find myself with someone even remotely resembling him twice in a lifetime.
“Answer me,” he grunts, emphasized by a merciless thrust.
I shake my head no, even with the rigid clasp he still has on my hair. It’s as if that’s all he needed to hear to finish. That he’s the best I’ve ever had.
Before I can take another breath, he’s groaning through his own release and filling the air with the most erotic rumble to ever grace my ears. And the sound alone triggers another, beyond powerful orgasm to rip through my entire body.
I convulse through a myriad of tingling sensations that take minutes to subside. He continues to slowly move in and out of me for the entire tidal wave of insanity until I finish with an overwhelming satisfaction of revitalized numbness. I’m spent. He fucked every ounce of stress from my body and I never want to move from where I’ve collapsed.
I’ve yet to fully catch my breath when a rustling has me glancing over my shoulder. He’s standing at the foot of the bed, hurriedly putting on his jeans.
And this m
I hate feeling like this, and yet, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t have the time or desire for a relationship and something tells me this guy doesn’t either.
He pulls his shirt over his head and slides on his shoes before saying a word. And when he does, it’s worse than I could’ve ever imagined. “Thanks for the great fuck. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
How do you respond to that? You don’t. And, he won’t see me around. Or ever again… that’s exactly how I want it.
But it was a great fuck, as he so eloquently put it, and perhaps I should thank too… or say something, anything… but I don’t know proper protocol, so I remain silent. I simply lie here as I am, completely sated, a bit shocked and sore in the best ways and places possible while he strolls out the door.
Now that I’m alone with only my thoughts, shame tries to creep its way into my lingering euphoria, but I shake it off, refusing to let it taint or ruin what just happened.
Sure, his finesse outside the bed could probably use some polishing, but I knew what tonight was about the minute I left with him, so I’m going to own that. And I’ll even do it, surprisingly, with a tiny edge of pride.
I’m an adult, always a responsible one, and I needed tonight. Just one, brief escape from reality to let my mind rest, for a change, and my body absorb the pleasure and much needed release it’s gone too long without.
There’s absolutely nothing for me to be ashamed of I decide, rolling over with a lazy smile, too tired not to fall asleep naked… and of course, my phone rings.
I ignore it, thinking it’s Marcy or one of the other girls wondering where I am, but by the fourth call in a row, I force myself to move, with a grumble, and cringe at the soreness in my thigh muscles. I’d be worried if any of them disappeared too, so I can’t be angry that they care enough to check on me. After all, nothing about tonight has resembled “my norm.”
It rings a fifth time so I easily find it, but it’s not any of my friends calling. It’s Helen, the woman sitting with my grandfather tonight. An impeding lump of dread immediately forms in my throat when I see her name on the screen. I swallow it down, now sitting heavily in my stomach as I answer.
“Hello? Helen, what’s wrong?” My voice trembles with fear.
“Ava,” she puffs out in concerned relief, “I’m glad I finally reached you. Honey, it’s your grandfather. His machines started going off, so I called Dr. Whitehall. You better get back home. It, well, it doesn’t look good.”
“I’m on my way.” I choke out past a sob, hanging up and dashing around the room to get dressed.
I never should’ve left him! Now, guilt is the only thing I feel. My grandfather, the one person in my family that I have a natural, loving bond with, has a DNR with strict instructions to be allowed to die at home. So no ambulance will be called, no extraordinary measures taken to save him. Which means, if he goes, he goes... and I won’t be there.
I throw on my clothes—maybe backwards, possibly inside out—and send in a request for an Uber. I grab the rest of my things and rush for the lobby, everything happening in a blur.
As I push open the lobby door and walk outside, my ride pulls up. “You Ava?” the guy asks, out the rolled down window.
“Yes.” I jump inside, spouting off the address to make sure he has it correct and beg him to hurry. “I’ll pay any speeding tickets you get, just go!”
I’m surprised I have the presence of mind to think of anything else, but perhaps subconsciously, hoping to make the ride go quicker, I shoot Marcy a text.
Me: Had to leave, grandpa not good. TTYL.
I don’t expect an answer, so I put the phone away and focus on the road. We’re almost there.
“This is it, stop here,” I shout to the driver a few minutes later, tossing him a hundred-dollar bill as I jump out. “Thank you,” I call over my shoulder, running to the door without looking back.
Helen is waiting with it open, her hopeless expression sending a shard of piercing pain slicing through my chest.
“How is he?” I dare ask.
She sighs and shakes her head. “Just go to him, Ava.”
After all the rushing, my feet now move as if sludging through in mud. It seems to take forever before I’m standing at the doorway to his bedroom, looking in as Dr. Whitehall does what he can to make my grandfather comfortable.
“What happened?” I think it’s me that asks in a whisper.
The doctor’s head turns and he gives me a sympathetic frown. “His vitals are steadily dropping, Ava, but he’s not in pain. I’m afraid it won’t be long now.”
“Baby girl,” his gravely, broken call for me has me rushing to the chair at his bedside.
“I’m here, Grandpa.” I take his cold frail hand in mine. “I’m so sorry I left, but I’m here now. I love you so much. You know that, right? You’re my favorite person in the whole world. Please don’t leave me alone with our horrid family.” I make a small joke, hoping to give him something we both agree on, to think about… but his crackled laugh sends him into a coughing fit.
“Help him,” I hiss at the doctor, who drops his head and shakes it slowly.
“You know I can’t, Ava. Not only would it be malpractice, but disrespectful. It’s his choice and he’s made it.
I look at my grandfather, planning to plead with him one last time to change his mind, but the coughing obviously exhausted him, his eyes now closed. So I let him have some peace, squeezing his hand and laying my head on the bed beside him.
“Baby girl,” a hoarse, faint whisper I hardly recognize interrupts my internal screams.
I lift my head to meet his glassy, almost vacant, eyes. A quick glance at the monitor behind him tell me he’s only taking seven breaths a minute now… and he’s using them to talk to me.
“I’m here,” I assure him, rubbing my thumb over the loose, clammy skin of his hand.
“Only… one… worth… a damn,” he wheezes. “My… baby. Take… care… of... my… other… one. Love… you.”
And at 4:21 A.M., my grandfather passes from this life to the next.
Chapter Three
RUSH
It’s the fourth quarter and I’ve kept my arm warm the whole night, just in case. Being the back-up quarterback for the Tennessee Thunder is something I’m extremely proud of, and I get anxious standing on the sidelines when it’s this close of a game. It kills me to stand back and watch, wishing I could help my team.
It’s my lifelong dream to start in the NFL, and until that day comes, I’ll continue to do everything I can to make it happen. I’ve worked my entire life toward this goal, and I swear I can almost fucking taste it.
I eavesdrop as Lou, the Offensive Coordinator calls each play behind the clipboard covering his face, and shake my head when Levi fucks up every pass. Levi Haney is our starting QB and a huge pain in the ass. He’s the perfect example of the worst kind of pro athlete stereotypes out there. There’s not a humble, charitable bone in his body and he plays for the dollar, not out of respect for the game itself or loyal fans. Not to mention, he’s hurt and refuses to admit the severity of it. He sure as hell isn’t giving his shoulder time to heal, foolishly, and even more so selfishly, costing our team the chance at a victory week after week.
The ball is snapped and I can instantly tell that Levi is going down…hard. Pain has taken many vital seconds off his agility; he’s no longer fast enough on his drop back or scramble, so now he’s unable to avoid what’s headed right at him. Our opponents don’t call their biggest, meanest lineman “Dozer” for nothing.
It all seems to happen in slow motion as I watch Dozer toss Reeves aside like a rag doll and plow over Levi, sacking him in the backfield. Dozer pushes off of Levi as he gets up, banging his fist against his own chest in celebration, but Levi doesn’t recover as quickly. Or at all, rolling over and grabbing his shoulder in obvious pain.
The officials call time-out and the medical staff runs out to assess Levi, eventually helping him off the field, and Coach turns to me.
“Rush, you’re in. Don’t fuck up,” he orders angrily, ripping off his hat just to shove it right back on in frustration.
I know I’m not his first choice, but this is my chance to show him…I can do this. I was born to do this.
I hit the huddle and see a bunch of pissed-off glares. “‘Bout fuckin’ time you decide to come to work,” Tyler welcomes me with a slap on the back. He’s always the first to give me shit, but he’s done it for years and his comment quickly helps lighten the somber-ass huddle, making this feel more like the good ol’ days back in college.
The call comes, loud and clear in my helmet speaker, and I repeat it to my men with full confidence in my voice. “Slant right, double special on one.”
I’m more than ready for this, been waiting for it actually. I just need to land these plays and remind my team, and the coaches, why I’m even here.
“Reeves,” I grab his facemask and growl. “I don’t care if you fall, trip him or dance with that big fucker, but buy me some time, alright? Let’s do this shit!”
“Fuck yeah,” he bobs his head. “I got you. Done being his bitch.”
“Damn right.” I tug on his mask again, hard, to get him riled up, then call “break.”
Tyler and McNamara move into position and on the snap, run the play perfectly. As promised, Reeves has me covered, and I fire, hitting Tyler right in the numbers. He takes off running like his ass is on fire, all the way to the end zone, narrowing the gap in the score.
“Oh hell yes, we ‘bout to switch shit up in here!” I laugh as Tyler’s enthusiasm surrounds me. If he’s anything, it’s energetic, and he truly loves the game as much as I do. That’s one of the biggest reasons I’ve loved playing next to him all these years. We’re a force to be reckoned with and I’m excited to finally have the chance to play on the same professional field as him. If things go anything like they did in college, and I keep getting game time…we will be fucking some teams up.
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