Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
"I…I…"
"Say it," I growl, smacking her ass.
"I'm yours!" she sobs. "I'm yours!"
Christ. Nothing has ever sounded better. Nothing.
I kiss her again, my tongue tangling with hers in her mouth and then in mine. I don't stop until neither of us can breathe and she's right on the edge, whimpering for release.
"I'm yours too, Hattie," I breathe, my lips against hers. "I'll only ever be yours. My dick, my heart, my fucking soul…you can have it all."
She sobs my name, clamping down on me as she shatters apart. My name rips through the room in a keening wail, her body convulsing on my lap. The way she squeezes my cock is utter perfection. It sends me careening over the edge with her into another mind-blowing orgasm.
She falls against my chest, panting my name.
"Jesus, butterfly." I wrap my arms around her, running my fingers down her back in lazy strokes as she comes down. "You're ruining me."
She tips her head back, peeking up at me. My cum is drying on her cheek. Her face is flushed and sweaty. And somehow, she still looks like an innocent little angel when she smiles at me. "Good," she whispers. "That's part of my master plan."
"Oh, yeah?" My lips curve into a grin. "What else does this master plan entail?"
"Tacos," she breathes.
"Is this your way of telling me that you want more tacos?"
"It's tacos, Sidney," she says, eyeing me like she thinks I've lost it again. "Who doesn't want tacos?"
The fact that she hasn't figured out that she's perfect yet is a travesty. An absolute travesty.
"Come on," I murmur, rising with her still wrapped around me. "Let's clean you up, and then I'll get you tacos."
"You're my second favorite football player ever," she sighs happily, leaning her head against my shoulder.
"Second ever, huh?"
"Ever," she repeats.
I just chuckle in response.
Chapter Nine
Hattie
I'm always nervous before going to a game, but I'm even more nervous than ever by the time I make it to my brother's private box on Thursday. The stadium is already packed, and people keep looking at me.
The whole world knows Sidney hit Tye yesterday. They also know that we've been dating. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that I'm the reason for their fight.
Their Coach made them both release statements this morning about what happened, trying to downplay it. Judging by the looks I'm getting…no one believes the carefully orchestrated half-truths and evasions about tempers running hot and disagreements on the field. I think half of them are here, hoping to see them get into another fight.
I hear the whispers, but I just pretend not to hear them until I'm at the entrance to the box and Vanessa is throwing open the door for me.
My heart sinks into my shoes when I see my mother inside, dressed like she's on her way to a gala instead of at a dang football stadium. Honestly, who wears heels and a little black dress to watch football?
"I tried to call you to warn you," Vanessa whispers quietly.
"Thanks for trying," I grumble.
She squeezes my fingers in a show of solidarity. I was a little worried she'd be mad at me over the fight, but she texted me last night to tell me that my brother is an idiot. That made me feel better.
"Henrietta," Mom says, turning with a glass of wine in hand. Her gaze travels up and down my body, her nose scrunching up.
"Mother," I say, trying to forestall whatever criticism she's about to lob at me. I'm already anxious about how today is going to go. I do not need her adding to it. "I'm surprised to see you here."
I shouldn't be surprised, though. Tye and I are all over the news. Of course she's here to try to get her five minutes.
"Why would I not be here, dear? Your brother is playing, and the poor boy got hit in the face yesterday. Of course his mother is here."
"He deserved it," I mutter, not bothering to remind her that she rarely ever shows up to Tye's games, not unless she thinks she's going to get something out of it. She's the same way with Briggs, even though he plays for the Wind right here in Chicago, too. I don't think she's been to a single one of Harlan's games since he signed with the Knights in Los Angeles.
Sometimes, I think it's my fault that things are tense with her and my brothers. Most of the time, I let them convince me that it isn't. Today is one of those days when I refuse to feel guilty.
The sad truth is, they prefer it when she isn't there, trying to make everything about her. That's not my fault. It's hers. And I just want to watch Sidney and Tye play, eat nachos, and enjoy myself.
"Of course, you're happy your brother got into a fight with Sidney," Mom says, shaking her head like I'm the biggest disappointment in the world. "Honestly, Henrietta, not everything needs to be about you."