by Jamie Knight
I end up sleeping for the rest of the plane ride, and when we land, Steve wakes me gently and helps me dress. I’m still too worn out to ask where we’re going as he packs me into a limousine and pulls me into his lap.
I sleep curled against him until we reach the hotel, and he carries me upstairs, but for some reason, when he slips me under the covers, I’m suddenly wide awake, and ravenous to have my husband inside me again.
He turns, thinking I’m still dozing, and my hand strikes like a cobra to grab his wrist and tug him down into bed with me.
“Whoa!” I cry out.
He laughs.
“I thought you were still out cold,” he says in an amused tone.
I shake my head.
“Definitely not a trace of cold here,” I reply, my fingers already venturing to his zipper. “I’m just hot for you, baby.”
He laughs at my dumb joke and tugs my shirt off yet again. He runs his fingers over the hickey on my breast, a smug smile on his lips, and then he bends to take my other nipple into his mouth, sucking it lightly and drawing out my need.
I wrestle his dick from his pants and wriggle out of my leggings. He raises an eyebrow.
“In some sort of hurry?” he asks.
I nod eagerly, parting my legs further as I work him out of his shirt, drinking in the sexy sight of his bare chest. Once I’ve got him stripped, I reach between his legs to guide his cock inside me and he catches my wrist, halting me and pinning me beneath him again.
“I can handle that,” he murmurs, and takes over the task of positioning the head of his cock at my entrance.
I whimper and writhe beneath him, desperately seeking the friction of his body on mine, and he absolutely tortures me, sliding the flared head of his cock down the length of my dripping slit, brushing over my clit.
“Please,” I whimper.
“Please what?” he asks, a mocking innocence in his voice.
“Please fuck me,” I beg, my voice a breathy whimper. “Please, please, please, I need you inside me now.”
“Well, I suppose if you need it…”
He punctuates the teasing remark by drilling his cock into me, making me scream in pleasure. I coil like a vine around him, legs around his waist and fingers digging into his back. I kiss him, my tongue tracing the seam of his lips.
He parts my lips with his tongue and the two of us make out like horny teenagers as he pounds me. Moans roll from deep in my throat and I can feel the vibrations of his own grunts and sounds of pleasure.
My orgasm hits me out of nowhere, making me shriek and arch against him. He tugs me up slightly higher so he can slide his hands beneath me and grip my ass with both hands, rocking his hips against mine.
He pulls his lips from mine and trails kisses down the length of my throat, licking and nipping the flesh as he goes, and when his teeth brush the spot where my shoulder meets my neck, I can’t help but gasp.
“I want you to tell me when you’re going to cum,” he orders, “I want you to cum with me.”
I nod, too breathless to speak, and one of his hands moves up to cup my breast, his thumb sliding over the erect nipple and tweaking it. His thrusts get faster and rougher, but his rhythm stutters and I know he’s close.
The hand on my ass moves between us and he begins to tease my clit with his fingers.
“Oh, fuck, yes, just like that,” I gasp.
He continues to stroke my clit while he rails me and before long, I feel the beginnings of a climax trickling through me.
“I’m so close, baby,” I tell him, “I think I’m about to-”
My breath catches and I tip over the edge into oblivion.
With a couple of quick, rough thrusts, he joins me in pure bliss, shooting his load deep inside me before laying on the bed and pulling me close.
“I love you so much,” I whisper breathlessly into his chest.
He chuckles.
“Mhmm. You sure you’re not just using me for my talents?” he teases.
“Oh, I absolutely am, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” I reply, making him laugh.
“You know,” I muse as I drift off to sleep in his arms, “Who would have expected that getting slapped in the ass by a perv and getting fired would lead me to the best thing I’ve ever had?”
He chuckles.
“Well, if I ever met that perv who laid hands on you, I’d kick his ass. I suppose I do owe him a thank you.”
I already miss Kelly and Sammy and the way they play and laugh together with us – and Kate too, of course – but I’m looking forward to one on one time with my hubby. We deserve it, since raising two kids is hard – but not as hard as when I was a single mom, and for that I’m grateful.
And as I fall asleep in the arms of the love of my life, reveling in a happy ever after way hotter than the ones in the fairytales, it’s funny to think about how something so small but awful at the time changed everything for the best, long term.
THE END
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If you enjoyed these stories you'll love the series they come from!
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Super in Love series:
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I Super Don’t: An Enemies to Lovers Fake Fiancé Romance
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All of these series feature standalone books that can be read and understood alone or binge-read all together due to connected characters and plots! Here's a sneak peek from I Super Don't, from the Super in Love series!
Sneak Peek of I Super Don’t
Chapter One
Jameson
I get to The Leviathan’s locker room, and there’s no one else here. Not surprising since I’m in super early today. It’s all because I want to get in some extra practice. In fact, I need to get in the extra practice. Being out for half of last season really took its toll.
I messed up my shoulder in a car accident last fall and it shattered. Several surgeries later, my shoulder isn’t totally back to one hundred yet, not to mention I’m feeling a little stiff. I’m hoping an extended warmup will help.
My physical therapist told me I’m all healed up, so I must just be rusty. There’s no more pain or anything, but something feels off to me still. Every time I lean in to make a tackle, I get a tingling sensation. My therapist told me it might be psychosomatic, but I’m not buying that. Eithe
r way, I won’t let that hold me back. I don’t want anyone thinking I can’t keep up with them anymore or that they need to replace me with a younger linebacker.
I head for my locker, but something else catches me eye. I think there’s another person in here already. I’ve never seen any of the other guys get here at this time, but I have a feeling it’s not another player. And I wouldn’t be so weirded out by another person if they weren’t sprawled on one of the benches a few feet away. That’s extremely bizarre. There are places to lie down if someone’s here late at night, so deciding to sleep on a bench is an odd choice.
I go over to inspect and, as I get closer, I see what looks to be a girl. Oh dear god, I hope it’s not another crazy fan! We were supposed to be beefing up security this season for this exact reason. How in the world did she get in here?
As I get even closer to her, the second thing I notice is that she has no shirt on. Fuck, this is not good. Should I wake her up? I feel like I shouldn’t touch her. Especially if she’s some crazed fan. However, she ended up here, it cannot be a good situation. Maybe I can leave her there for someone else to deal with. It’s not like she’s my problem just because I got here first.
I try to go back to my locker to get ready, but my eyes keep wandering back to the passed-out girl. She looks so helpless. What if there is something seriously wrong with her? She seems to really be out cold or sick. I don’t think I’ll be able to live with myself if that’s the case.
Ugh! I can’t just leave her there. That’s what a total asshole would do. I’m on this mission to be a decent person — I’m trying to change my image from a playboy jerk — and a decent person would help her.
I put my duffle bag down and wander back on over to the bench. I kneel down to figure out what’s going on with her. I’m surprised this girl hasn’t woken up yet. It’s not like I’ve been particularly quiet. I poke her in the shoulder, but that does nothing. Not even a single stirring. She must have drunk a shit ton of alcohol if she’s not waking up.
“Hey!”
I’m starting to get legitimately concerned. I check her pulse and then her breathing. They both seem steady, so she’s alive. That’s good that I’m not stuck with a corpse, but I’m still here with an unconscious, shirtless, unknown girl. Maybe there’s something else going on besides her just being drunk.
I continue to try and shake her awake, but she’s unresponsive. Did someone slip her something last night? I need her to become conscious. Like immediately. There are a lot of questions that I have. What should I…?
Finally, I pick her up. I’m going to need to get a lot more hands-on if I want any results. Maybe some cold water will get those eyes open.
I get us both into one of the showers and turn the knob. A cold spray falls from the showerhead. I’m used to soaking in ice baths, so this is nothing to me, but the girl in my arms jolts awake.
“Oh my God!” she sputters.
Her hands go up to protect her face, and then I think she realizes my presence because she starts trying to wiggle out of my hold. I don’t let go because I can tell she’s still a little woozy. Eventually, she stops struggling, and I turn off the water.
We’re both soaking wet which is annoying the hell out of me. Like I’m glad I helped whoever this is, but this is not how I thought my day was going to start. She’s mumbling something incoherent and hasn’t started supporting her own body weight, so I place her back down on the bench. She’s still getting her bearings, so I leave her be for a little bit.
I need to get out of these wet clothes. I take off my shirt, throwing it the floor. I might just end up throwing it away since it’ll sit in my locker all day, getting moldy. I look around for my duffle, but realize I left it over by my locker. Ready to walk over and get myself a shirt, I stop when I hear some more serious rustling behind me. I turn around to see the fan girl sitting up, her palm pressed against her forehead.
“What happened?” she slurs. Her brown eyes are a little hazy, and she’s swaying. I kneel back down to her level and put my hand on her shoulder to keep her from toppling over. This girl must be going through quite the trip.
“What’s your name?” I ask loudly. I need to make sure she’s somewhat cognizant.
“Um, Jenny?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Jenny. My name is Jenny.” Her hand and eyes drop.
I didn’t mean to sound like a dick, sometimes it just comes out. She feels more stable, so I remove my hand from her shoulder. Then, I realize she’s still topless. I turn away and back up a few feet, not wanting to make Jenny uncomfortable. She must be having a mini panic attack waking up in a locker room topless with some guy. I can be sympathetic to her situation. I grab a random towel and hand it over. She takes it, wrapping it around her torso.
“Well, Jenny. Do you know where you are?” She shakes her head. “I see. Well, you are in the locker room for the New York Leviathans. I’m not sure what happened to you or how you got here. I walked into the locker room this morning and found you here. Do you remember what happened before you got here?”
She moves the hair from her face and bites her bottom lip. Maybe she doesn’t want to tell me. There’s no real reason for her to trust me. I mean, if she’s not a fan girl who brought herself here then, what actually happened might be a lot more daunting. Maybe she’s worried I’m the one who put her here.
“Um,” she starts, “I was having a drink with my roommate and her friends. It was weird they were being so nice, but she said it was meant to be an olive branch, an apology for the whole cheating incident.”
“Cheating incident?” Maybe she’s from the nearby college, NYU. A lot of the students like to come to the games.
“It’s nothing, really,” she dismisses my question. “But,” she continues, “still, it was nice, or so I thought. I mean, Carrie’s never been that nice to me. I was so dumb to think that it was the start of a more cordial relationship between us. I mean, I must be a special kind of dumb to have let this happen.”
“It’s not your fault that someone decided to drug you.”
She finally looks back up at me. It’s the first time I’m really looking at her face, and she’s really pretty. Red wavy hair frames her face which is soft, with pink cheeks and a slightly pointed chin. Her eyes are deep brown and friendly with long dark lashes. I could see myself trusting her almost immediately. Her eyes have this searching quality, like she knows a lot more about me than I know about her.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she half-smiles with full pink lips. “Still, our history should have been a clue that she was up to something.” She crosses her arms over her chest, grabbing onto her shoulders, and folds into herself a little. “The last thing I remember is feeling tired, and some hazy memory of being moved. My guess is the four of them left me here.”
Her story is definitely interesting, but I’m not sure if it’s the truth. It sounds way too crazy. Is it way too crazy to be true, or is it way too crazy for her to have made it up? I’m more on the side that she’s just doing this for attention. It’s a strange way to get attention, but not everyone is logical at all times. Still, would someone really roofie themselves? I’ve heard stories of fans going totally wild, but that feels insane.
“I should get going,” her tone suddenly shifts, and she frowns at me.
Maybe my annoyance is palpable. I try to relax my body language by dropping my shoulders. I’m not against her leaving, so I’m going to let it happen, but, when she stands up, her legs are a bit wobbly.
“Shit!” I exclaim as I grab onto her and keep her from faceplanting on the ground. My hands go to her waist, tightening. Even though I’m touching her over a towel, I’m already enamored with how her body feels.
Jenny is really hot and curvy, and, if this was six months ago, I may have tried to get her number or something, which would have been utterly inappropriate, but that’s not who I am anymore.
Her eyes dart back and forth, starring right back in
to mine. Her nails are digging into my shoulder. Her cheeks turn a deep red.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Her shoulders bunch up, and she tries to stand up on her own. It takes a minute, but Jenny gets on her own two feet. She tightens the towel around her breasts, and I get my first good look at her form. I wouldn’t mind if the towel dropped right now, but, once again, it’s not even a functioning factor at the moment. What I need to do is get her out of here before anyone shows up and takes all of this the wrong way.
Either way, I’m here to focus on my carrier. A crazed fan is not going to be a worry of mine today.
“I need to get you out of here,” I tell her.
Jenny nods, and I’m about to get both of us a dry shirt so we can finally leave, but the door opens and literally every single one of my teammates walk in.
“Shit,” I mumble.
Jenny immediately hides behind me, but it’s not good enough to keep the team’s eyes off of her and the semi-nude sKramer she is in.
“Ay, Irish Whiskey, who’s the broad?” Marvin, the quarterback, asks.
It’s an unfortunate nickname, given my drunken behavior last season, but I’ve come to terms with my team hating me. I’m not friends with anyone, thanks to my own damn actions. They all think I’m some punk kid, but I can’t blame them. I definitely did things that would make most people think I’m a massive jerk.
I was one for a long while.
“What’s going on?” Coach Kramer’s voice booms throughout the locker room. He pushes himself to the front of the crowd.
“That’s what we’re asking Jameson over here. We found him huddling with some random chick.”
This is not going to go well for me. I already see the phones coming out, and I know that whatever pictures and videos they take will end up online and on T.V. with whatever media spin. That is the last thing I need right now.