CHAPTER 19 LINCOLN

Of course we're on the same flight on the way back home, but this time we're not seated beside each other.

It's unfortunate since this is the time I would've preferred that, but it's likely better this way given that if we were sitting together I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off her, and I can't touch her in public spaces. Even on a plane. Under a blanket.

God, last night was…unexpected, as I told her, and I can't stop seeing her face as I plowed her cunt last night.

Her eyes heavy, her lips parted, her chest heaving.

I want it again. And again.

And again.

I want more.

I don't want to lose her again.

And yet, as we checked out of the hotel and shared a ride to the airport, I couldn't help but think how there's already a divide between us.

There's already a wedge that's only going to widen as we go back to reality in Vegas.

We're not in some hotel suite anymore.

It's not just the two of us sealed into privacy anymore.

But still…I want to find a way to make it work. I want to see her again. I just don't know how when we're both in the spotlight. We both have people watching. And if anyone finds out, it's not just our jobs, our livelihoods. It's our very families.

Is it worth it?

That's a tough call. But I'm known for making tough calls.

We land, and she's a few people behind me as we get off the plane. I slow my pace once I'm in the terminal so she can catch up, and we walk together toward the ride share area even though we'll be taking separate rides home.

Just as we get to the airport exit, I hear someone calling my name. "Lincoln Nash?"

I glance up, as does Jolene, and some guy I don't know approaches us.

"I thought that was you. Don't fuck up my team, man," he says, and he laughs a little as he says it.

"I'll do my best." I try to be polite, but you never know what you're getting when you're dealing with the public. Some people hate my coaching style, and others love it. Regardless, I don't really care about their opinions. I was hired to do my job the way I want to do it, so here I am.

They're armchair experts, and it's pretty easy to coach that way. Making the actual decisions on the fly is a little more complex.

I know I have a lot to prove this season, and I'm up to the task.

As I walk away from the stranger, though, and Jolene walks a few paces in front of me, I can't help when my eyes fall to her ass.

That sweet, sweet ass that I will claim as mine someday.

Fuck.

Now I'm hard and distracted, a combination I don't need as I have two weeks filled with events from meeting with my coaching staff and getting a game plan together for OTAs, planning for the upcoming season, finalizing the playbook, scouting opponents, making appearances, giving interviews…the list is endless, and I saw a text before my flight from my agent about some new sponsorship opportunities he wants to discuss.

But all of it feels like it could wait if I could just get another night with Jolene.

I just don't know when that's supposed to happen.

I'm about to ask her as we walk toward the ride share line when the dude from inside follows me out. "Who are you putting at QB? That rookie? Or Fletch?"

I ignore him, but he gains on me.

"I asked you a question, man," he says.

"We're finalizing the roster this month. Thanks for being a fan." I offer a tight smile as I keep walking, my head down.

"You better play Fletch, you stupid fucker," he says.

I turn to look at him as my hackles rise. I won't get into a public fight, but one of the things I hate most about being in this position is the fact that people think they can hurl shit at me and it doesn't affect me.

It does.

"Listen, man. I don't want any trouble. I'll do the best I can for the Aces. Have a good night."

I start to walk away when I hear him mutter, "Pussy."

My nostrils flare, and I'm about to turn around and put this asshole in his place when I glance up and my eyes meet Jolene's. She's watching me, gauging my reaction and seeing what I'm about to do, and somehow knowing she's here watching me makes me want to step up and do the right thing.

I draw in a deep breath, and instead of turning around, I ignore him.

I keep walking until I arrive at the ride share, and the car I reserved shows up nearly as soon as I walk up to the area. I hop in, and I glance up at Jolene. She offers a small wave and a tight smile, but we didn't say goodbye.

Because we can't.

My chest feels heavy at the thought, but there's not much else I can do.

My driver tries to make conversation, but I ignore him as I type out a text to Jolene. I contemplate what to say a while before I settle on something vague.

Me: I didn't get a chance to say this to you, but this weekend told me everything I needed to know.

I'm nearly home when her reply comes through.

Jolene:Could you be any more unclear?

I chuckle as I read her words, and I wait to reply until I'm inside my house. I set my suitcase in my bedroom and unpack it in the silence of my house.

It's too quiet.

I've never noticed how quiet.

Me: It all came back but it's stronger than it used to be.

She doesn't reply, and I worry I overstepped as I unpack my toiletries and start a load of laundry before setting my empty suitcase on the top shelf of my closet.

I turn on ESPN while I search my refrigerator for something to eat, and I settle on my favorite comfort food: mac and cheese. I'm not a culinary genius, but that I can do. Especially the microwave ones, which I keep a stock of in the freezer.

Did I drink black coffee and skip the hash browns at breakfast yesterday before my speech? You bet. Am I home now and the nerves of speaking in front of fifty thousand people are gone? Absolutely, and now I face different obstacles as I try to figure out what went down this weekend.

I give up pretty quickly. Women are virtually impossible to figure out.

I don't hear from Jolene until nearly ten, and I've spent the hours waiting anxiously when it felt like I sort of put my heart on the line in my last text.

Jolene: Sorry, had to get J to bed. It all came back for me, too, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that.

My chest tightens at her words, and I flip off the television so I can focus on this conversation.

Me: Don't be sorry. How was it getting home to him?

Jolene:Perfect. He stayed with my friend Sam. We're actually living with her for the time being.

I think about asking why, but it's not really my place. I don't think.

I wonder for a beat what it would be like for her to live here. I realize it's a stupid thought to have considering she has a son, but I can't seem to banish the thought of fucking her on the enormous black couch where I'm sitting or on the white quartz countertops or against my shower walls or in my bed.

Jesus, just the thought of it has my cock begging for another round with her.

Me: I miss you. Already. I miss everything we had this weekend. I miss pizza on the bed and drunk JoLo.

I send it before I lose my nerve.

Jolene: I miss you, too. I miss what we had when we were teenagers, and I felt it this weekend…only somehow more intense than it was back then.

Me: So did I.

So where do we go from here?

I want to ask…but I'm afraid to know the answer.

So instead, I take the sex route.

Me: What are you wearing?

Jolene: Wouldn't you like to know? [smirk face emoji]

Me: I would. It's why I asked. I keep picturing you in a t-shirt and nothing else.

Jolene: Well I do have bottoms on this time.

Me: Send me a pic.

Jolene: No.

Me: Text sex?

Jolene: I have to be honest. I have no idea how to have text sex.

Me: It's easy. I say dirty shit, you say dirty shit, we both get off and end the conversation with smiles.

Jolene: Okay. I've got a few minutes.

A surge of heat pulses in my balls.

Me: Start by getting naked.

Her reply takes a few beats.

Jolene: Done. Take your cock out. Feel free to send me a dick pic. Or a pic of those abs of yours.

Me: No pics. Then I can't run for president someday.

Jolene: Do you want to run for president someday?

Me: No. It's just a saying.

Jolene: I'd be happy to put you in touch with some friends who could help run your campaign.

Me: We're getting off track here.

Jolene: Fine. What are you wearing since you won't send me a pic?

Me: I haven't changed since I got home, but you told me to take my cock out, so it's out.

Jolene: I wish I was there to suck it.

Me: Fuck, Jo. Sometimes you say things that catch me completely off guard.

Jolene: That's the goal. Are you hard?

Me: Yes.

Jolene: What are you thinking about?

Me: You. What it felt like to be inside you with nothing between us this weekend. How much I want to feel you again. How I know that no matter how much I jerk off it'll never feel as good as your sweet cunt.

Jolene: [sweating emoji] Damn, dude.

Me: Tell me how wet you are for me right now.

Jolene: I feel weird typing it out. IDK. Super wet.

Me: You can give me more than that.

Jolene: Remember the sound when I slid down over your hot dick because I was so wet for you? About that wet.

Me: That's more like it. Slide your finger into that wet pussy and pretend it's mine.

Jolene: I won't be able to text you if I'm doing that.

She's right, and I want to listen to her voice as she comes with me anyway.

So I click the call button.

She's a little breathless, and her voice is low when she answers. "What are you doing?"

"Maybe you can't touch and text, but you can touch and talk, right?" My voice is gravelly, only proving how goddamn turned on I am right now.

"I'm not doing this over the phone with you, and especially not when I'm in someone else's house!" She's whisper-yelling and somehow I find it both sexy and adorable.

"You live there now, don't you?" I point out.

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Then no buts. Slide your finger into that wet pussy. I want to hear you moan the same way you did for me."

"Lincoln!" she whisper yells.

"You know you want to." I reach into my shorts and pump my shaft a few times. "Oh, fuck," I murmur. It feels good, but even better when I think of her and what we did this weekend together. "Come on. One last way to cap this weekend."

"And then what?" she asks, and her question is a cold shower on my hot cock.

"And then…I don't know," I say honestly, still palming my cock. "We figure it out."

She's quiet a beat, and then I hear her readjust the phone followed by a soft gasp. "Oh, God. I'm wetter than I thought I was."

"That's so goddamn hot, Jo," I groan as I start pumping up and down my shaft a little faster.

"Are you, uh…what are you doing right now?" she asks.

"I'm jerking off while I'm listening to the sound of your voice. Push your fingers in and pull them out for me, and let me listen to how hot you sound."

She does it, and I hear her soft little moans.

I want to hear the loud ones she gave me in the hotel when it was just the two of us, and I will hear them again.

I will.

I start pumping faster, and my balls start to tighten as I listen to her moans. My breath starts coming in ragged grunts at the erotic sounds coming over the phone, and I close my eyes as I listen to her.

"Touch your tits," I demand, wishing I was there beside her to suck them into my mouth.

"Oh, Lincoln!" she cries, still softer than in the hotel but louder than the rest of this conversation has been as she starts to let go.

"Fuck yes. Say my name again. I want you to close your eyes as you picture me grinding into you on that bed in Ohio, giving you the kind of fuck you deserve."

Instead of saying my name, she lets out a sound that's nearly a sob as short little gasps come through the line and into my ear. "I'm coming," she cries quietly. "I'm coming so fucking hard, Lincoln, and it's all because of you."

Her words push me over the edge. My balls contract uncontrollably in an unbearably intense wave of pleasure. I moan something—her name, maybe, or a string of curses, I'm not really sure as all coherence leaves. I'm home alone, and I don't need to be quiet as my grunts of pleasure keep pace with each pump of come that spills onto my hand.

We're both quiet as we live in the afterglow for a few beats.

"Holy shit, Linc. I think that might be the most erotic thing I've ever done," she murmurs.

Indeed.

I hope we get to do that again…but I have even higher hopes that we'll get to recreate this past weekend again and again.

I'm just not sure how it's going to be possible.