Trenton

Friday 3 A.M.

“You good?” Vander asks as we exit the plane in Jersey.

“Better than good. Got a feeling this is our season.”

“Yeah, I’m not talking about the game; I’m talking about here.” He taps the side of his head.

“My head’s in the game. I’m focused on getting that ring.”

“You thinking retirement?” he asks.

“I think I’m not far from it, and I want that ring before they steer me toward retirement.”

“You’re not slowing down, man,” he huffs.

“We have a shot this year. We’ve got half of our veteran starters healthy and experienced and half of our rookies hungry. We haven’t had that before.”

“Not untrue.” He nods and smiles. “He could do it this season. But fuck retirement.”

As we pass the executive lounge, he nods. “You wanna go find something new to play with, just for the night?”

“Nah, man.” I wanna go find something real again.

“Good luck with that man, truly.”

* * *

When I walk out of TTN airport, I see Whitley Paul parked in the pickup line, craning her neck to catch sight of her husband. The whole crew was in Toronto, but she and the kids bypassed Chicago and headed back to Milton for a few days. Apparently, they’re back.

She waves to me, and I wave back before looking down at my screen to order a cab. Then I see Hart and the boys crossing to the garage.

I throw two fingers in my mouth and let out a whistle.

Hart looks back as I’m jogging across the road.

“Am I in time for the family rideshare?”

I assume he nods toward his ride, so I pick up the pace.

“You’re all about to get real cozy back there.” Hart chuckles.

“Fuck that. Rookies in the back. I call shotgun.”

Nour, who’s already at the passenger door, throws his hands in the air.

“What’s that, Rookie?” I taunt.

He gives it right back. “Not a thing, old man.”

“That’s spelled V-E-T-E-R-A-N, right?” I ask.

“Yeah, sure,” Nour says as Hart hits the key fob, unlocking the doors, and we all pile in.

“You’re gonna need to get a roomier ride, man.” AJ Tereira chuckles.

“Like a minivan or some shit,” Nour chides.

“Why the hell am I the one getting the minivan?” Hart starts his truck.

“ ’Cause you act like you’re even older than the V-E-T-E-R-A-N-S,” AJ jokes, and at three in the fucking morning, that’s funny. “Not even going out when you’re in a new damn city?”

“He’s hot for the neighbor. Leave him alone,” Nour says.

I look over to make sure he’s talking to Hart and not me. He is.

I crane my head to look at them. “You two do understand that you get more action when there are less players on the field, right?”

“Taco Bell up ahead,” AJ says, smacking the back of the seat.

“Yo quieroTaco Bell,” Nour says.

“Who doesn’t want a hot, juicy taco in their mouth?” AJ makes a V with his fingers and flicks his tongue between them.

“I’ll hit the drive-thru if you promise not to do that shit in front of me ever again.”

“No shit.” I laugh.

* * *

Having slept on the plane and knowing we’re off tomorrow, I’m not tired enough to go to bed yet. If Gwendolyn’s rental weren’t next door, I’d have gone to the beach where I sleep like a champ, fish off the shore, and just chill. Apparently, I’m a glutton for punishment.

I drop my keys and the bag of Taco Bell I’d gotten but have no desire to eat on the island, next to the unused condom, and head toward the stairs.

After I change, I grab a beer, twist off the top, and head outside, knowing the cold air will chill me enough to put me into sleep mode.

Ass in the chaise lounge, feet on the railing, I lean back and look at the stars.

“You were so bright in Texas. What the hell happened, star?”

“Some may say the same about you.”

I’m pretty damn happy I didn’t just squeal like a little bitch and jump out of the damn seat. “Star? Is that you?”

Gwendolyn starts up the stairs toward me.

“What are you doing out here at three in the morning?” she asks.

I pull my feet down off the railing and look her over. Yoga pants.

She looks at her watch. “Saw y’all pull in and decided I wanted my shoes.”

She walks right on past me and into my place.

I pull my feet down, push up, and head in just as she steps out of her yoga pants.

“I don’t break my word.”

“Just hearts,” I say under my breath as I push down my … fuck me … pajama pants that Mom bought me with baseballs all over them. Then I grab the condom that we didn’t use the other night off the island.

“I have ten minutes.”

“If you’re intent on riding me, you’ll probably have eight minutes to spare,” I say, sheathing myself but managing to catch her blue-gray eyes light up with amusement, and just as quickly, she hits that smirk right out of the park.

“You maybe wanna tell me what kind of case you’re working on that has you right next?—”

“No talking, Locke. Sit.”

I arch my brow, and she rolls her eyes.

“Please.”

Would I like to remind her of her manners? Yes. Will it stop me from feeling her from the inside? Pretty sure the answer would also be yes, so I sit my ass on the couch, and she wastes no time pushing me back so I’m against leather.

Placing one and then the other knee on either side of me, she straddles my lap, looking so damn sure of herself. Her confidence has always been a turn-on, but fuck if it’s not causing some worry at the moment until …

She reaches between us for my shaft. As always, my eyes get warm, my lids get heavy, and that first breath is harder and harder to take, every fucking time.

I wrap my hands around her knees and run them up her thighs, forcing an exhale as I watch her tits from beneath her shirt rise and fall faster as her breathing intensifies with just the tip of my cock edging her entrance.

I curse as goosebumps cover her arms and her sexy body shivers above me.

“I’m fighting a profound desire to grab hold of you to still you and thrust up and pull you down until I’m balls fucking deep inside of your tight little pussy, Gwendolyn.” I grab the hem of her shirt and pull it up, exposing her perfect tits. I cup them and squeeze. “I’m gonna need these to divert me.”

Rolling her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers elicits a whimper that rocks my resolve to stay the fucking course with this … dubious topping.

Gwendolyn’s head falls back, showcasing her long, slender neck that begs to be marked as she presses into my touch. Her hips rock back and forth, slowing, and I glance down at our connection as she takes me in a little more, coating my cock with her wetness. I pinch her nipples harder, knowing how she loves edging the line between pleasure and pain but never asks to cross it.

After what feels like the longest minute of my life, she’s taken me all inside her.

Gwendolyn moaning and breathing hard as I pin her hips, feeling my cock jump inside her is heaven.

“Pussy hugs me so nice,” I groan then grip her hips, sinking my fingertips into her flesh as she slides up and down my cock. “Fuck, Gwendolyn, ” I groan more as she begins moving faster, tits bouncing in my face every time she lands hard on my lap.

When she reaches her hand between us as if she’s going to toy with her clit, I tap it away. She bears her damn teeth at me until I start rubbing circles around that little nub.

“Fuck you,” she whimpers. “I can do that myself.”

I thrust up hard inside her. “You wanna ride my cock, ride it. But you and I are doing this shit together, and I’m gonna get you there.” I thrust up even harder this time, causing her to grip my shoulders to steady herself.

“Your two minutes are up,” she hisses.

“You gave me ten. If we’re doing math the same, that leaves me seven more”—I pinch her clit between my fingers, but not hard enough to get her off—“to get you off, back on your feet, dressed, and out the door.”

“Fine, whatever.”

“That’s a good girl.” My girl, I think.

Grabbing her hips, I slide her ass back and forth on my cock. She cries out every time her clit hits my pelvis. Three times—three fucking times—and her pussy is choking my cock as her orgasm rolls through her.

“That’s one,” I hiss, sliding her back and seeing her cum glistening on my cock, wishing it wasn’t fucking sheathed.

I pull her tighter, wrapping an arm around her, cupping her ass, forcing her body against mine, leaving no space between us as I piston my hips deep into her pussy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck …” she whimpers.

I bury my face in her neck, nipping, licking, sucking on her soft, smooth skin as I fuck her to another orgasm.

“Jesus H, Locke,” she whimpers when I don’t slow.

“That’s two, Gwendolyn York. I’m gonna force a third.”

“You’re insane.” She bites down on my neck, causing my balls to draw up so tight I’m afraid I may not get her there.

I slide my finger down the crack of her ass, rubbing circles around that tight little hole I’ve never dared touch.

“What are you doing?” she asks before biting me harder.

“Just feeling you,” I growl. “Feeling you everywhere.”

“You’re not fucking my ass.”

“How the fuck could I do that when you’re in control?” Then I show her who exactly is in control as I go even harder.

“Locke!” she cries.

I halt movement and take her infuriatingly beautiful face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. “You’re in control, Gwendolyn? Right now, do you think you’re in control? When your pussy is surrounding my cock?”

“Damn right, I do,” she answers breathlessly.

“This is the only fucking time I have control. Your orgasms are mine. Your pussy is mine. So let me have this, because we’re T-minus two before you sashay that hot ass out of here and leave me wondering if I’m ever gonna get to feel you again.”

“Stop talking.” She smashes her eyes shut and shakes her head. “Just shut up.”

“Right, of course, Gwendolyn, my bad. Talking isn’t allowed. We just fuck.”

I thrust in and out of her as her tits bounce in my face while rocking her ass back and forth until her hold loosens and her thighs begin to shake. I grip the back of her head with one hand, pull her forehead to mine, and graze my lips across hers. Her breath hitches, and her eyes roll slightly.

“And kissing, that’s an automatic ejection from this game we play.” I tuck her head into my shoulder, thrust deep, and grind against her, releasing us both.

Panting, we stay like that—close.

She eventually pulls back and, typically, I’d fight it, but now? Now I’m fucking in my feels, and nothing good’s gonna come from that.

I grab her hips and stand, setting her on her feet.

“So, my slides?”

I pull on my ridiculous but comfortable as fuck pajama bottoms. “Tried to get your attention that night. You were in a Yank. Got dressed and brought them over. Left them right inside the mudroom.”

“Why didn’t you just say that then?” She shakes her head, sliding her feet into a white pair of the same slides.

“Because then I’d be forced into a conversation about why the fuck you’d ever consider Frankie F. and not me if you ever had to get married for five mil.”

Her jaw drops.

“And you’d be all like?—”

“You were spying on me?” She throws her little paws in the air.

“Yep, just like that.” I shake my head. “I was bringing your shoes back. Not my fault my hearing’s?—”

“Shut the hell up. We’re done talking.” She snatches the Taco Bell bag off the counter, stomps to the door, opens it, and starts to walk out.

I grab her arm, halting her little exit. “You understand that over my dead rotting corpse will I let you marry that piece of shit, right?”

She jacks her elbow away. “I’m not speaking to you ever again.”

As she storms away, I yell, “See you tomorrow, Gwendolyn York.”

“The fuck, you will.”