I grin at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and rolling my hips, dragging my cock against his. “Oh, I believe you.”
He moans softly, his mouth finding my neck and kissing lightly. “Oh, fuck. That feels good.”
I grin. “I can make it even better.” Then I quickly add, “If you’re ready.” I say it kind of sheepishly because I don’t want to rush him.
But he’s already eyeing me ravenously. “Yes. Please. Yes.”
I grin at that, standing up and undoing my jeans, pushing them and my boxer briefs down, kicking them off—thankful I’d already kicked my shoes off. My dick is hard and leaking, standing straight up, and trying to get to Noah.
His eyes are transfixed, and I’m worried I may have pushed him too far, too fast. This is likely the first hard dick he’s seen in person that wasn’t his own. But then he’s unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, pushing them and his briefs down his thick thighs.
I stare at his dick, my mouth watering at the thick cock standing tall and proud. The head red and leaking for me. God, I want to taste him, but his hands grab my hips, and he pulls me back onto his lap, his mouth slamming against mine.
I suppose this works too.
I moan into his mouth, our slick cocks sliding together. I hold my hand up to him, palm facing him. “Get it wet.”
He studies my palm for a moment, and then it must click because he very eagerly licks my palm, his tongue leaving behind enough spit to get us there.
I bring my hand between us and wrap it around us both, sliding along our lengths as I thrust into the grip. “Oh, holy fucking shit.”
He’s panting as his forehead rests against mine, watching our cocks squeezed together, sliding through my hand over and over.
He’s holding onto my hips as I roll them and know without a doubt I won’t last long. How can I with the sexiest man on the planet grunting and moaning as he thrusts against my cock? I feel his body tense, and he cries out as his lips capture mine in a brutal kiss. His cum covers my hand and his stomach just before mine joins in the delicious mess between us.
I wring us out, slowly stroking until neither of us can take more. He bites on my bottom lip before grasping the back of my hair and kissing me softly.
“Holy shit, that was amazing.”
I smile against his lips. “Just wait. There’s so much more to show you.”
He kisses my nose. “I can’t wait.”
We clean up in his bathroom and then head back to the couch. We don’t bother with our shirts, but we both have our pants back on. But this time, when he sits down on the couch and grabs the remote, I lay my head on his lap, letting my body lie down on his soft couch.
I can feel him smiling, even without looking up, as his fingers sift through my hair, and he rewinds Scream since we missed it and starts it over.
“I’m pretty sure you and LeAnn are the only ones who can get me to watch this stupid shit.”
I gasp in mock horror. “Scream is a damn classic. Wes Craven at his best!”
He’s laughing as he smooths his hand in my hair. “Yeah, yeah. Watch the movie.”
“Don’t worry, Coach. If you get scared, I’ll cuddle you.”
His hand stills but then starts again a moment later. “You promise?”
I bite my bottom lip and nod my head. “Yeah. I promise.”
I know I lied when I said I can handle this because I know, without a doubt, letting him go is going to be next to impossible.
But I can’t give up this chance to have him.
Maybe it’ll work out.
Who knows?
I have to at least try.
SEVENTEEN
NOAH
I can’t keep my damn eyes off him. It’s a real problem. One I need to fix and fast, but how can I when he’s so damn good with the players? I mean, they still don’t totally trust him. That much is clear.
But he’s wearing them down slowly. He’s wearing the black and red colors well too, if I say so myself. A red t-shirt is stretched across his broad chest—a chest I now know is firmly muscled and defined. Every single part of him is so damn defined. I could have spent hours dragging my finger through every single ridge on his body yesterday.
But after the heated make-out session on my couch, where we rubbed off together until I saw the brightest damn stars I’ve ever seen burst behind my eyes, we just hung out. Watched movies and then ate dinner.
I don’t know if we can actually do this—date without anyone finding out—but God, I want to try. When he confirmed that was what he wanted too, I couldn’t take it anymore. The hope and want was just too damn great.
So now I’m standing here, ogling him while he helps the offense get ready for the game on Friday. I need to get it together.
I finally shake it off just enough to get through practice. The guys shower and change, all heading home slowly, and my eyes are trained on Chance the whole time. He smirks at me, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, and I’m sure he does.
He walks over to me, keeping his voice low. “I’m going to run home real quick and shower. Pizza at your place?”
I look straight ahead and not at him, forcing my face to retain a bored expression. “I suppose. But we’re going to have to throw a salad in there somewhere.”
“Pshh. I’ll help you work it off.”
The fucker winks at me just as I turn to glare at him for getting me excited while some of the players are still here, but then he ducks out of the locker room and leaves.
When everyone leaves and I lock up, I’m thrumming with excitement. But instead of taking my exit toward the country road I live on, I continue down the highway to the nearest town with a fancy Walmart Supercenter.
I park my truck and go inside, feeling like a damn teenager again. I shouldn’t be here. Someone might recognize me, but it’s thirty minutes from Kensley and the chances are slim.
I head straight to the aisle I need and am instantly overwhelmed. There are so many damn choices. I groan internally and grab a simple-looking bottle of lube and a pack of condoms, then practically run to the self-checkout.
When I get back to my house, I see Chance on the porch, a pizza box sitting next to him on the small table there. I climb out of my truck, grocery bag in hand, and walk up the steps as he stands up to his full height, looking so fucking gorgeous with damp hair and a red, Kensley hoodie and black joggers. “Hey, I thought you were going to stand me up.”
“Never,” I say honestly.
He grins, and I let us both into the house. He puts the pizza box on the kitchen counter, and I drop the bag next to it, my cheeks flaming, just thinking about what’s inside.
“I’m sorry I was late.”
He’s eyeing the bag pretty hard and then looking at me. “Where did you go?”
I point to the bag, grabbing plates for the pizza. “Walmart.”
He chuckles. “Why? We have a store here.”
I wave him off, huffing as I plate our pizza. “Not one with those fancy self-checkout things.”
His eyes widen, and I can tell he’s amused. I sigh and lean back against the counter with my arms folded, knowing he isn’t going to let this go. “So . . .” He walks over, standing a foot in front of me. “You needed a self-checkout . . . What exactly did you need to buy?” He waggles his eyebrows, playful and teasing, but I can’t help the embarrassment that floods through me.