“I could probably come up with a thing or two if I had to.” I tease her with both my words and by running my tongue up her neck to her ear, letting the ball of my piercing drag along her skin in the way she’s admitted drives her wild.
“Jase.” Her hips thrust against me and I slide through her wetness, the lips of her pussy wrapping around my sensitive head as it bumps over her swollen clit. “Don’t tease me.”
Like that’s gonna happen.
Rolling my hips, I do exactly that. Up and down, I have to grind my teeth each time the crown of my cock flicks over her. She’s panting and I’m leaking precum like a spout.
“Jason,” she growls. I smile into her neck at the use of my full name. It’s cute how she does it any time she wants me to know she means business.
“Fine, ruin all my fun.” I pull back with a pout.
“If you think this”—she grinds against me with a squeeze of her strong dancer legs—“isn’t fun, you’re doing it wrong, All-Star.”
Really? I had to go and fall in love with a woman who was meant to be a Covenette—AKA a total smartass. Hello, Pot. Nice to meet you. I’m Kettle.
“You should know better than to challenge me, baby.” I curl my hands around her ribs, my palms leaving a trail of goose bumps down her belly as my fingers press into her back, skimming down it. Her skin is like the softest silk, and a part of me feels bad for abrading it with the rough callouses on my fingers.
“Why?” Her neck arches with another deep inhalation of bubble gum.
The tips of my fingers overlap as I anchor myself on her hips, tilting them ever so slightly, allowing me to push inside her with my next thrust.
With Mels on the pill, we’ve ditched the condoms, which only heightens every sensation—the heat, the wet velvet covering me like a glove, each ripple set off from my groin brushing her swollen nub.
“Hope you don’t embarrass easily.” Another pump and I’m seated to the hilt.
Her ankles lock at the small of my back. “I live with Zoey and Ella.” Not for long, I think. “Embarrassment was conditioned out of me years ago.”
“Good.” I dig my fingers into the plump curves of her ass, holding her lower half off the bed. “Because I’m about to make you scream the house down.”
All thoughts of the people I share the house with—including both our brothers, at the moment—vanish as we get lost in each other. I may be on top, but my baby gives as good as she gets.
Nails scrape my back, and anyone who isn’t around to catch the soundtrack of what is happening behind the locked door to my bedroom will know how we spent our morning.
Air puffs against my neck with every breathy moan she exhales.
I want so badly to latch onto the pulse point on her neck and mark her. If the tongue-lashing I received over the beard burn my playoff beard left on her is any indication, I doubt a hickey would be well received.
Ask me if I give a fuck.
I don’t.
“Jase.”
Sparks go off with the burn of my scalp from her hands clutching at my hair.
“Mels,” I groan.
Though my pumps are lazy, sweat trickles down my spine.
“Jase.”
“Mels.”
My baby may be underneath me, but she doesn’t let that stop her from meeting me thrust for thrust.
Legs squeeze.
Hands clutch.
Nails scratch.
Teeth bite.
My balls draw up tight, the tingle at the base of my spine begins, and I’m not going to last much longer.
Swiveling my hips, the new angle hits that sweet spot inside her. I’m not stopping until she’s wailing my name like one of those high notes she’s famous for.
Collapsing to the bed, I roll us so she’s on top again and not crushed beneath my weight, tracing unidentifiable patterns in the perspiration coating the pearls of her spine.
She expels the most contented sigh, and already my magic dick is readying for the second period of play.
I couldn’t tell you how long we stay in a tangled mess of sheets and naked limbs before reality rears its ugly head with a pounding on the door.
“Yo, lovebirds,” Cali shouts. “The Cup is here.”
“Yeah, so put some pants on and let’s do this thing,” Tucker adds.
Mels buries her face in my side at the sound of someone gagging, and it only intensifies when we hear Nate complain, “Really? We may not hate each other anymore, but I don’t need to be hearing this shit about my sister.”
The day of the Tonys, Nate and I had a come-to-Jesus moment, getting all the shit between us out on the table. In the month since, our rivalry is almost unrecognizable.
I’m torn between wanting to stay in bed with my girl—hello! She’s naked—and rushing from the room. I feel like Sean and Carlee on Christmas morning with how excited I am.
The slap of skin rings out when Mels tap-taps my chest. “Come on, All-Star.”
“Hmm?” I hug her to me.
“You’re practically vibrating right now. Get up. Put some pants on like Tuck suggested and let’s go get the Cup.” She extracts herself from my hold, slipping into one of my Storm t-shirts and a pair of cutoffs. “I already know the first thing you can do with it.” She kneels on the edge of the bed, leaning over me.
Glittering onyx eyes look at me with so much love my own heart swells. She doesn’t have on a stitch of makeup and her pink hair is a wild tangle of sex waves, but she’s never looked more beautiful to me. I love this woman so damn much I can barely stand it at times.
Pushing one of her errant waves behind her ear, I ask, “Really, Sweet Potato? And what’s that?”
She places a kiss on the tip of my nose, pulling back with a smirk. “Brush your teeth with it on the counter.”
“Are you saying I have morning breath?” I feign offense.
“Sooo bad.”
She squeals when I grab her, flipping her under me again and laying a kiss on her so hot neither one of us is able to give a damn about morning breath.
The Cup can wait a few more minutes. The woman in my arms is all the trophy I’ll ever need.
Epilogue 2
I’m all for a good improv prompt, but even I don’t know how to respond when my boyfriend’s sister and surrogate sister smother me in hugs for going viral all before my morning coffee.
The fact that I managed such a feat without being properly caffeinated was a stroke of luck. I mean, how was I supposed to resist snapping a bathroom mirror selfie of a shirtless Jase brushing his teeth, me doing the same next to him in his Storm t-shirt, the Cup in a place of honor on the bathroom counter. The whole scene screamed Instagram.
Since then it’s been a flurry of other Cup Day photos. It started with Lyle filling it with Jase’s favorite coffee from his shop and putting the Storm’s logo in the foam on top. Yes he used a stencil for the letters, but he freehanded the crossing hockey sticks behind it and the thundercloud on top, as well as the lightning bolt trailing off the R.
“It’s so pretty,” I gush.
“Thanks, doll.” Lyle wraps an arm around my shoulders and I snuggle into his side. I took an instant liking to the flamboyant barista. The way he unabashedly flirts with all the guys makes for great entertainment.