Lainey’s List Chapter Thirty-Two
Nick
“You’re thinking too hard,” Lainey says. Her hand lands on my knee.
I tilt my head to get a better look at her. “Is that right?” I drawl.
She nods. “We’re scratching an itch. Nothing more. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”
Her fingers dance higher. Want spikes through my system, leaving me to deal with the dueling emotions of frustration at how she’s continuing to play this and the heavy need that always burns when she’s near.
“Seems to me if you were scratching an itch, it could’ve been done far closer to home.”
She rubs her glossy red lips together before answering. “Maybe I’ve learned that this particular itch can only be assuaged by one person.”
Her hand creeps so high on my thigh I nearly pass out from lack of blood to my brain. It’s all pooling in my jeans.
“I only have a few hours before I have to go back to being a mom again,” she continues. “You going to send me home hungry?”
Hell no. I jump up from my chair and throw a few bills on the table, not caring what denomination they are. We need to get out of here before I actually succumb to the thought that taking Lainey right here in the middle of Mavericks’ would be perfectly acceptable.
“We just had three drinks. It’s too early to go.” Plant objects.
Lainey halts in the process of rising but before I can go all caveman on everyone here, Charlie reaches over and taps Plant’s hand. “Tell me how you got past Demarco on that third quarter play. It was genius.”
“Yeah, those were some moves,” Reese chimes in.
I shoot them both a grateful look as Plant launches into a long explanation of route running and the pitiful slowness of corner backs.
Lainey mouths fifteen minutes and heads toward the back. I get it. This is a football bar, and it’s not a rare sight to see a player leave with a gorgeous woman on his arm. Lainey doesn’t want to be one of those women though—the ones who brag on Snapchat to their friends that they just fucked a star. But I don’t like seeing her walk away from me. I’m tired of that.
I do it anyway. As she disappears down the hallway, I force myself to the bar to wait. The conversation regarding the game, our playoff prospects, the potential for playing in the championship game, all flow around me. I’m not thinking about the Super Bowl. My thoughts are stuck on pealing off Lainey’s dress, tonguing her nipples, and drinking the honey between her legs. Those images tumble in my head as I stare blankly at the Dallas businessman in front of me. Fifteen excruciating minutes pass before I can extricate myself and escape out of the bar.
When I get outside, I don’t see her immediately. My hands fist at my side. Goddammit, I knew I should’ve—
But then I see her dark head leaning against the passenger window of Reese’s big-ass Mercedes SUV.
All this season, I’ve had a fire in me and I thought it was hunger for the game, a drive to win; but as my hand closes around her small waist, I realize the core of it was her.
She opens her mouth but I slam my own against hers before she can say another word. I’m not interested in explanations or excuses. I don’t want to hear hers or give mine. I just want this. Her. Now.
Lainey’s surprised at first but then she attacks me with the same fervor. In her desperate response, I taste her need, and her mad desire. My hands dig into her hair; hers reach for my belt.
I think about halting her, telling her we need to find a room. Getting caught having sex in public would result in a fine from the league. My team would be pissed off. It would become a distraction from our run toward the playoffs. None of that matters, not when her slender fingers delve inside my pants to wrap around my cock.
I drag my mouth away from hers. “You want it right here?” I thrust into her hands.
She looks up at me with glowing eyes. “No one has to know.”
She pulls me out and starts to lower herself, but I stop her. I’m close to coming and I’m going to be inside her when it happens.
“Turn around then and don’t make a sound.” I tug her skirt up over that fine ass of hers and slide a hand between her legs. Soaked.
I don’t even bother to remove her underwear. I shove the cotton aside and thrust into her, one swift, hard motion that propels her hard against the metal and glass. She pushes back, her wet channel hugging me tight.
The suction of her body, the feel of her warm flesh rubbing up against mine is driving me wild. I hammer into her, hard and fast. Her hands flatten against the side of the vehicle as she tries to brace herself. A high keening noise escapes her lips.
I clamp a hand over her mouth. “Shhh. I told you to be quiet.”
The reminder makes her shudder and convulse around me. She likes it when I’m rough with her; which is good because right now, I can’t be gentle. I shove two fingers into her mouth. “Suck my fingers like it’s my cock. Show me how much you want me in your mouth.”
Her mouth closes around my fingers like a vise, and she does exactly as she was ordered. She’s too good at it though. My orgasm is spiraling upward, and I need her to come with me.
I let go of her hip to reach around and find her clit. She moans against my hand when I pinch the little nub between my fingers. The walls of her cunt flutter against my cock signaling her own impending release.
Thank Christ.
I press my thumb against her clit and start fucking her with everything I have—my fingers, my cock, my body, my…heart.
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