Ballbuster (A Playing Dirty Sports Romance Book 1)
Page 46
And how is it possible that Sadie's body is this sexy, and I've never noticed it before?
Thinking back...it must've been the baggy, tomboy clothes she always wears, because if she had walked into the gym like this...holy fuck. My thoughts are so impure I'm probably breaking at least three laws.
Where's Page?
I look around the yard for my attorney sister-in-law. I need her to give me a rundown on whether or not I'll get thrown in jail just for thinking about fucking someone so young. And, yes, much to my horror, I still want to fuck her, even though I now know who she is, which is...damn upsetting.
"So…you don't like my dress?" the temptress asks hesitantly.
I'd like it better if it was pooling around her ankles. It's a goddamn peek-a-boo tease, from the soft swells overflowing at the top making me wonder what shade of pink her nipples are, to the hip bone being flaunted, knowing exactly what I'll find just three inches to the left, but going crazy wondering how she'd taste. Sweet like peaches and flowers? Oh hell, smack my ass and call me a naughty boy because I'm dying to fall to my knees and beg for a fucking taste.
High school boys are selfish bastards, so I'd almost bet my balls she's never had anyone lick her pussy until she screams and convulses. Of course, I've gone down on a few women over the years. As I see it, it's only fair after they suck my cock, and no, despite my name, I'm not a goddamn saint. When a woman gets on her knees, a man doesn't ever refuse that shit. Just ask Bill Clinton.
I wonder what my chances of getting my head between Sadie's legs are tonight. Sex is a staple for prom, right?
Oh shit, I've gone off the deep end so far. I don't even know whether or not she's a virgin. How does one tactfully ask such a thing, and then if the answer is no follow it up with “Wanna fuck”? If she's a virgin...well then, unfortunately, all bets are off.
I could still eat her out, though, right? Hell yes. I'm gonna get my tongue in that tempting pussy if it's the last thing I do.
While I've been ogling her, she's looking at me expectantly like she's waiting for me to answer a question. What was the question? Oh, right, do I like her dress? Ha!
Barely suppressing my groan, I bark out a laugh instead at the absurd question and force myself to look anywhere but at her, shaking my head. "That's not a dress, that's...that's a goddamn cruel and unusual torture device."
"Oh," she says quietly, sounding disappointed.
"Sadie, no, I didn't mean it as a criticism. I just meant me and every other man, or...boy," I amended since they’re high schoolers. "Probably like it too much. Hell, I didn't even recognize you."
"I'd hope not," she says softly. "It took four hours of work to avoid looking like my usual dorky self."
I was about to try and find the words to assure her she's the furthest thing from dorky as she could get when Page interrupts.
"Okay, I want some pictures," my sister-in-law says when she approaches, phone in hand and at the ready. Here's hoping boners are like vampires and don't show up in photos.
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ALSO AVAILABLE FROM LANE HART
The Gambling with Love Series
All In: Double or Nothing
All In: Betting on a Full House
All In: Calling His Bluff
All In: Playing the Fool
All In: Playing to Win
All In: Paying to Play
Bound by Blood Paranormal Romance Series
Blood Drive
Blood Ties
Blood Loss
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
New York Times bestselling author Lane Hart was born and raised in North Carolina. She continues to live in the south with her husband, two daughters, and several pets named after Star Wars characters.
When Lane's not writing or reading sexy novels, she can be found in the summer on the beaches of the east coast, and in the fall watching football, cheering on the Carolina Panthers.
Connect with Lane:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/WritingfromHart
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Website: http://www.lanehartbooks.com
Email: lane.hart@hotmail.com