"Maybe if you give me your pie," he said lecherously.
She rolled her eyes. "Your lines land like bricks. Mine," she scolded, slapping his hand away when he reached for her plate.
James stood up. "I'm going to go help Maggie clean up," he said.
Big smirked and made a whipped sound, complete with hand motion. He chuckled lowly when James flipped him the bird and lumbered away.
"You're an ass," Alisha told him, casting her eyes sideways towards him. She found his careless shrug adorable and held her plate out, offering him some pie. "One bite."
He grinned, and grabbed the fork and shoveled a mammoth bite into his mouth. "Holy fuck this is good," he grunted with his mouth full. "You make this, Shorty?" He swallowed and went for another bite.
"Yes, now go get your own. Oh, the game is starting." She forcefully yanked the plate out of his hands and dug in, her attention focused on her boys in blue.
With an exaggerated sigh, he pushed himself off the couch and strolled into the kitchen, finding James and Maggie sucking face and getting extremely hands-y. Deciding against acting like himself and interrupting with a way to go, bro! he grabbed the pie carrier off the counter and fled back to the living room. "Time for us to go, Larrington."
"What? Why?" she looked up with a pout.
"Shit is about to get X-rated in the kitchen." He leaned in closer, "how about we go do the same at my place?" He noticed the look on her face and smirked. "After the game is over."
Alisha beamed. "I'll get my coat."
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she shouted, jumping to her feet when Peyton connected with Dallas Clark in the end zone. "Number 44, baby!" She plopped back down next to Big on the couch, nudging him playfully. "Did you see my boyfriend, Dallas, score? Huh? Didja?"
Big rolled his eyes and chuckled. "You've got serious lady wood for Dallas Clark."
Alisha let out a little moan by way of agreement. "I do. He's thick and juicy."
"He's not a steak, Larrington. And he's got a porn 'stache."
She turned her head slowly and regarded him. "Jealous?" she asked impishly.
Big snorted. "Bitch, please," he tossed back jokingly.
"And it's not a porn 'stache. It's a goatee," she corrected primly. "Extra point—good!" she excitedly called, raising her arms straight up in the air before turning and shooting a dimpled smile at him.
Big shook his head, fighting off his own grin. He had to admit that he was shocked by her knowledge of football. He figured her one of those girls who claimed to like the game but only knew the name of the quarterback. (He'd met many of those girls in his day) The fact that she knew every player, coach, and the types of plays being run was fucking sexy and it impressed the hell out of him.
But then again she was constantly surprising him and keeping him on his toes. And he liked that about her. A lot. He usually didn't get to know any of the girls he slept with and he sure as shit didn't keep them around this long. This thing between them was a nice change of pace. Now before you go thinking he'd gone and sprouted lady parts, they were still just friends who fucked (a lot), and he had a knuckle sandwich for anyone who suggested otherwise. Biggerone didn't do relationships and she didn't want one either. It was the perfect setup. Seriously. Alisha Larrington was a smoking hot chick who made him laugh and was killer in the sack. It was a wonder though that she didn't have guys falling at her feet and eating out of the palm of her hand. He thought that if she wanted that, she could easily make it happen. (With lesser men of course and not him obviously. Duh!)
He felt her lips press against his earlobe and her warm breath on his neck. "The game's over. Wanna play with me now?" she whispered seductively. He could feel her smile against his neck as she walked her fingers along his bicep, her scent surrounding him.
She could very well be the best friend he'd ever had, he thought as a slow, wicked grin spread over his features. "You're not going to pretend I'm Dallas Clark are you?" he asked gruffly.
Alisha stood up and smirked down at him. "I wouldn't do that. Again."
His jaw dropped; she grinned. And like a shot, he was off the couch, chasing her through his apartment as her laughter squealed through the air. He caught up to her, slung an arm around her waist and hoisted her off her feet, effortlessly tucking her tiny form under one arm. Growling in her ear, she laughed even harder. "Larrington, Larrington, Larrington," he scolded, carrying her towards his bedroom, "what am I going to do with you?"
"I can't wait to find out," she giggled.
Her face was illuminated in the soft golden glow from his bedside lamp as she slowly writhed on top of him. He watched her, completely transfixed, while her hips swiveled in a slow, tantalizing rhythm that made his breath come a little faster and his heart pound a little harder. She was absolutely gorgeous with her head tossed back and a hand tangled in that mass of thick, dark hair, the other trailing down the valley between her perfect breasts. The breathy way she moaned his name while looking down at him through lowered lashes with a faint smile on full, pink lips made him never want to leave his bed.
It was in these moments that
