Player (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)(68)

“I told you I could be dirty.”

I’m moving towards him, now utterly convinced I’ve lost my mind as my hands slide into his lap.

“Nat-”

I’m tugging at his zipper as he groans, popping the button above, reaching inside, and cooing as I wrap my fingers around his big, beautiful cock. He groans as I stroke him once, twice, before carefully pulling him out of his pants.

“Fuck, Natalie…”

Austin moans as I wrap my lips around his cock, swirling my tongue around the head as I slowly start to suck him.

“Eyes on the road,” I whisper, letting my tongue dance down the underside of him.

I inhale him again, moaning around his thick girth as I start to bob up and down, my hands stroking the rest of him that clearly won’t fit between my lips.

He’s grunting while one hand slides into my hair and sending a thrill through me as he drives.

He’s pulsing hard in my mouth, growing even bigger as I suck him deep, my fingers teasing his shaft.

“Nat, fuck,” he groans, sucking in air through his teeth. “I’m going to-”

“Come in my mouth,” I whisper, opening my mouth and sliding as far down on him as I can. My hands pump his shaft, my tongue swirling around and around his crown.

We’re pulling up the driveway of his house, and right then, he explodes. His hot cum fills my mouth as I swallow eagerly, his cock pulsing between my lips as he stops the car with a jerk at a crooked angle outside the house.

We barely make it out of the car, doors still open as he pushes me against the front door, his hand digging and jangling in his pocket for keys.

We fall into the foyer of the house, pulling each other’s clothes off right there on the floor. His fingers slide inside of me as his mouth leaves bruises down my neck and collarbone, my moans dripping in his ears. He pulls me on top of him, and I toss my hair back and sigh as I slowly sink down on him.

His cock stretches and touches me in places I’ve never felt inside, sending pleasure screaming through my body. His hands are on my hips, guiding me, his eyes never leaving mine as I ride him. I’m moving up and down, rolling my hips, my hands flat on his chest, and my eyes locked onto his.

And it’s so good. It’s perfect synchronically, a perfect fit. Everything else fades away as we move together, there on the floor in a tangle of our clothes. None of it matters besides that very moment, - not the fake marriage, not the complications, not any sort of arrangement.

It’s just him and me, eye-to-eye as we move together towards that sweet release.

And when I come, he rises up, holding me, clutching me against his chest and driving up into me, rocking me right through my orgasm. I hear him groan my name in my ear, and then feel the pulsing throb of him deep inside as he lets go. The climax rolls through me - wave after wave as I slowly ride us both through it - milking him for every drop until neither of us can move another inch.

And it’s perfect.





35





Austin




Lying in bed with her the next morning, all the rest of it drops away. This is all that matters. Not the fucking arrangement, not the media, not the looming thought that eventually, this has an end date.

I can forget all that with her.

It’s easy, and comfortable, and for once, I don’t give a shit about the fact that I’m paying her, or whatever. It’s not like that. And there’s a sort of glowing satisfaction when I glance down to her hand in mine and see the ring on her finger. This whole thing may have started with some stupid napkin arrangement, but she’s actually wearing my ring, and that means something.

Hell, she means something. She means a fucking lot, even if I still can’t wrap my head around what that means or how that happened.

But I’m not going to try and overthink that one. Because if there’s one thing life’s taught me, it’s to know when it’s fucking good.

And this girl right here, curled up into me and dozing in my arms - this is as good as it gets.

My phone buzzes across the side table, interrupting my thoughts, and I grumble as I answer the number I don’t recognize.

“Sleeping late, Mr. Taylor?

I frown at the strange voice. “Who is this?”

“You can call me the collector, Mr. Taylor.”

There’s something in that voice that sends a cold feeling through me, and I sit up slightly, turning away from Natalie.

“What the fuck is this,” I growl. “How’d you get this num-”

“You owe us a considerable about of money, Mr. Taylor, and it is my job to make sure that gets delivered.”

The cold feeling turning into an icy chill inside.

“You’re looking for my dad,” I say evenly, clenching my jaw.