She rocks with me, moaning, “I can’t take it. It’s so good.”
“You’ve been thinking about coming again, Vi?”
Her eyes squeeze shut. Her breath rushes fast. “So much.”
“Are you glad I stopped by?” I thrust a finger inside her, feeling the way she clenches me tightly. So fucking tight that I burn. My skin prickles with heat. My body floods with nothing but longing for her. I add a second finger.
Her mouth falls open and her head lolls back, hitting the wall. “So glad,” she says, panting as she fucks my fingers.
I growl her name. “I jacked off to you in the shower. God, it felt so fucking good.”
Her eyes snap open. “What were we doing? When you came?”
“I was fucking you, Vi. I was fucking you hard. Your palms were against the wall. Your hair was in my fist. I wasn’t a gentleman in the least.”
“Were you rough?” Her voice is colored with excitement.
“I gripped your hips and pounded into you, and I fucked you hard until you screamed my name.”
She moans my name now, as if she’s demonstrating how she’d sound. She dips down on me, grinding into my hand as I rub my thumb over her sensitive clit. “I got off to you, too,” she blurts out. “This morning after I was home.”
“Yeah?” I ask, and this turns me on even more. I didn’t think it was possible to be more wound up than I am right now, but picturing her with her legs spread, fucking her own fingers, does the trick. My entire body is strung tight with this raging desire. “What was I doing?”
“You wouldn’t let me touch you. But I wanted you so much, and I begged you to come on me.”
My brain goes haywire from her dirty mouth. I’m white-hot in every damn molecule in my body. I rub my hard-on against her hip just for the barest relief as I finger-fuck her. “You want to see that? That gets you off?”
“I want to see you naked,” she says, and her voice is the most desperate sound I’ve ever heard. She grinds and rocks and thrusts, and all I can think is how much I want the same things with her. How absolutely fucking much I want this woman under me, over me, beside me. With me.
“You will, baby,” I say, as I crush my mouth to hers, kissing her right when I know she’s about to shatter. As I kiss her, I feel as if I’m devouring her pleasure with my mouth, as if I’m swallowing whole the sounds of her orgasm as she comes on my hand.
A minute later, when she seems to float down from her high, I say with a grin. “By the way, I got you another gift.”
“You did?” Her voice is raspy.
“I thought you might need these,” I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and hand her a pair of bikini panties from Victoria’s Secret. Green with a giraffe print on them.
Her eyes widen. “They’re adorable.” The meaning fully registers. She brings her hand to her mouth. “Cooper, did you come here knowing you were going to make me come?”
I shrug happily. “What can I say? I was optimistic.”
After I leave, I tug my Giants hat low and drop on my shades, feeling like a fucking orgasm dispensary, and I couldn’t be happier, even when a man with a beer belly and a dark mustache stops me. “Cooper Armstrong?”
“Hey there,” I say with a smile, going into friendly-with-the-fans mode, since I don’t know this guy from Adam.
But he seems to know me. He extends a hand. “I’m Ren Watling. I own this building.”
Dickhead.
“Nice to meet you, Ren,” I say, since he’s Violet’s landlord. I shake his hand.
“Business has been great. I’m thrilled. I hope you come around more often.”
My lips twitch in a smile. “I hope to come around more often, too.”
Later that night, after I cook myself a dinner of salmon and green beans and study the playbook, my phone dings with a text message.
Violet: Thank you for the afternoon delight. By the way, do you like my new giraffes?
When the multimedia image loads, I find myself with a shot of Violet from the waist down in her new panties and nothing else.
Giraffes are my new favorite animal.
22
When practice ends on Tuesday, I shower at the training facility, put on jeans and a nice navy-blue button-down shirt, and grab my keys. I’m meeting Jillian and Violet at the children’s hospital in forty-five minutes, so I make my way toward the players’ lot. But before I can leave, a herd of elephants sounds behind me, shouting my name.
I spin around to see two frazzled intern types. One is a skinny guy with a beaky nose, and the other is a tall dude with a military-style haircut.
“Coach wants to see you,” the skinny guy shouts.