I gasp.
“Mine.”
His mouth latches onto my clit, attacking my pussy. A cry rips from my throat at his sudden assault, the hand on my chest rising to cover my mouth, muffling the moans tripping over themselves to break free.
I’m blindsided by an orgasm, sinking my teeth into the heel of his palm.
There’s no mercy.
Tongue.
Teeth.
Fingers.
Everything working together to wrest a second climax from me.
Limp, unable to move, I think my body might have dissolved into this marble. The turkey might not have knocked me out, but my boyfriend may have managed to put me into a pleasure coma.
He rises to stand, all cocky grin and lickable abs. His hair is a disheveled mess from where my fingers yanked on the strands.
Eyes locked on mine, he pushes on the band of his sweats until his cock springs free, the length straining toward me. The head is an angry purple, and the wetness of his precum glistens under the lights.
Hands slip under my thighs, holding my legs where they’re hooked around his hips, and he plunges inside me in one thrust.
It’s my turn to reach for him, my nails scoring his back.
His mouth covers mine and I can taste myself on his tongue.
“Mase.”
“This is gonna be hard and fast, baby.” His words are as much a threat as they are a promise.
My back slides across the tabletop as he drills into me, his arms flexing in an effort to hold me in place.
We continue to kiss, swallowing down each other’s moans.
Without warning, his orgasm hits, his release dragging out another from me.
He collapses on top of me, still managing to hold most of his weight off me and balancing on his elbows to keep from crushing me.
“Now that is something to be grateful for,” he whispers against my throat.
I may not be able to manage the function of speech right now, but I agree one hundred percent.
#Chapter49
I’m pretty sure if I eat one more bite of food, my stomach will literally explode. If Coach Knight ever found out how far off the rails from the nutritionist-approved meal plan we went today, he would kill us—or worse, bench us.
It all started with the most amazing Thanksgiving Day feast I have ever seen—cooked by real people and not caterers—and ended with the most delicious dessert spread known to man. Holy shit Bette and Mama G can cook, and bake.
I think I may have taken Papa G’s I’m just here for the pie shirt to heart, as I had a piece of every type offered. And oh the pie; pumpkin, apple crumble, sweet potato, pecan, and—Kay’s favorite—pumpkin cheesecake. Sugar coma central right here.
Boisterous laughter sounds from the kitchen, and the leather of the couch creaks as my head lolls to the side to check it out. Kay sits on the counter surrounded by my teammates. A chorus of slap-slap-slap-slap sounds as she rock-paper-scissors Kev and Alex over who gets the last slice of pie.
Kay holds up her fist in victory as her rock trumps Alex’s scissor, her hips shimmying in place, bringing back memories from the closet. Her celebration cuts off when Kev takes his turn and covers her rock with his paper, her head dropping back, blonde and colored curls brushing the countertop behind her.
Grayson tries to swoop in and steal the plate right out of Kev’s arms, but the defensive end dances away, doing his best to keep his prize out of reach.
The uninhibited smile on Kay’s face and her eyes dancing in laughter make it easy to see her happiness clear across the room.
“It’s nice”—the couch dips as Tessa plops down beside me, arm reaching across my body to point at Kay now taking on Noah and Trav in RPS—“to see her be PF with new people.”
I shift my gaze, following the length of Tessa’s arm, meeting her blue eyes with an arched brow. “Haven’t you guys harped that Kay and PF are the same person?”
“In identity, yes, but in personality…” She pauses, glancing at Kay and back again. “No.” She sighs. “Not for the last few years anyway.”
Why is it whenever Tessa Taylor talks to me in private, I feel like she’s my confidential informant?
“She’s always been like that”—I circle a finger at my victory-dancing girlfriend—“with us.” I swear Kay talks more shit to me than my teammates.
Slowly, a smile curls Tessa’s lips. “Why do you think my brother pushed her to give you a chance?” He did?
I catch a whiff of peppermint seconds before Kay climbs over the back of the couch and into my lap, fitting herself between my spread legs. It doesn’t do my already stuffed stomach any favors when she leans against my chest.
“Whatever happened to sisters before misters, T?” Kay asks Tessa, making me laugh with her mind-reading of our conversation.
“Eh.” Tessa waves off the question. “Whatevs.”
Kay eyes her sister for a few seconds before rolling her eyes and shifting her attention to the Atlanta game on the television.
My arms wrap around her middle, pulling her tighter to me despite the protest from all the pie swimming in my gut. I rest my face against the side of hers, placing a kiss to her temple and breathing in the intoxicating scent of Kay mixed with me—my favorite.
“Oh, come on, Dennings,” Kay shouts at JJ Dennings, a wide receiver for Atlanta, when he bobbles the ball for an incomplete pass.
“What I do?” E asks as he and Bette walk out of the side hallway that leads to the gym, both their clothes slightly rumpled and askew. Looks like Kay wasn’t the only member of the Dennings family sampling from a side menu today.
“Not you. JJ.” Kay thrusts an aggravated hand at Atlanta lining up for a third down. “He was late off the line and dropped a pass a preschooler could have caught.”
“Yeah, baby!” Noah does his best Austin Powers impression. “We love it when you talk football.”
Kay giggles, ignoring him to trace my tattoo instead. As the soft
