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Long: A Secret Baby Sports Romance(108)

By:B. B. Hamel


“What?”

She looked embarrassed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it was also a little . . . you know.”

I grinned and felt my cock stir as I looked at her. She was clearly uncomfortable, and I knew exactly what she was going to say. I could see it in the way her chest rose and fell quickly, her breath coming in deep and fast. I could see it in the dress she was wearing, the dress that screamed sex, and the way her eyes lingered on my body. I knew what she wanted.

“It turned you on,” I whispered in her ear. “You thought to yourself, if I could fight like that, imagine how I could fuck.”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“And now you can’t decide if you want to run away or if you want to go all in.”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll tell you this: I fuck better than I fight. You only got a little taste of what I could do to that dripping pussy of yours.”

“I’m not dripping.”

“Don’t lie to me again. I know if I reached under that dress, I’d find you soaked through your panties.”

“Cole,” she said, pushing me away. “Look, I just wanted to say that you can come back, okay?”

She was blushing like crazy, and I could practically smell the desire rolling off her in waves. My heartrate was up and my cock was hard, so hard that I was worried someone might notice.

“Come on,” I grunted at her. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

She blinked at me and then nodded. “Okay.”

I grabbed her by the hand, nodded at Ronnie, and then led her out of the locker room and down a series of hallways. The venue was old and full of a bunch of different dressing rooms. It had been built for something else back in the day, something like plays or live theater or some shit like that. The dressing rooms were like honeycombs. I chose one at random, ducking inside.

I flipped on the light. There was a couch against one wall and a vanity on the other. Old costumes hung on hangers from a rack, and posters advertising movies older than the both of us combined were framed and hung on the walls.

I grabbed her hips and pressed my body against hers, kicking the door shut behind us.

She knew what I wanted. She could feel my dick pressed against her core. But she didn’t move, didn’t say a word, as I slowly slid my hands up her legs and grabbed her ass, pushing her dress over her hips. She gasped as soon as my palms pressed against her panties.

“Sure you want to be alone with me?” I asked.

“No, not at all,” she whispered.

I kissed her, deep and hard. She kissed me back, and I knew she was lying.

I knew she wanted to be alone with me more than anything else.





9





Alexa





He was right. He always seemed to be right when it came to what I was thinking.

The truth was, watching him destroy that guy in the ring had been terrifying. I’d kept thinking, I know that guy, that’s my stepbrother, that’s my husband. It had felt like I was watching someone else and I had to remind myself of who he was.

As his fists pummeled and his feet moved, I had wondered if I ever really knew him at all.

But then the fight was over and that crowd was cheering again, and I felt that same thrill that I had felt the other night. I knew that no matter what, I was drawn to him, and I couldn’t deny it. I was drawn to him inexplicably, like a planet pulled toward a star. I just had to be careful that it didn’t swallow me up.

But of course, whenever I got around him I completely lost myself. I only wanted more and more, and I didn’t think about the consequences. I couldn’t help myself, not when he touched me, and especially not when he kissed me.

Which was why, when he pressed his lips against mine in that empty dressing room, I knew that I was going to let him slide his hand down under my dress and feel how soaking wet I was.

“I knew this was what you wanted,” he whispered in my ear.

We stood in the middle of the room, his lips against my ear, his hand between my legs. Shivers ran races down my spine as wave after wave of cascading pleasure crawled through me.

I’d already told him I wanted him to stay, but I hadn’t been completely honest with him. I didn’t tell him why I wanted him to stay: because I couldn’t stop thinking about those nights, a year ago, when he made me feel so much.

I gasped as his fingers deftly flicked under my panties and found my clit. I bit down on his shoulder as he began to move in furious circles.

“Easy there,” he grunted. “There’s a lot more to come, girl.”

“Shit. Sorry.” He laughed and kissed my neck, rubbing my pussy.

“I get it. You’re starving.”

“No,” I gasped. “Not at all.”