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He presses his thumb into my mouth and against my tongue as I drag down his pants. He’s already huge and hard, and when I suck on him, he groans.
“Fourteen rebounds,” I whisper, releasing his thumb and shifting my attention to the obvious thing between us.
Clay was a superstar tonight. He did what needed to be done for his team and millions of people.
After the game, when the door closes, I’m the one here with him.
Well, me and Michael anyway.
I wrap my hands around Clay, needing to feel him. I lick around the head of him, a bead appearing immediately at the tip. I’ll never get over how insane it is that I can make him feel this way, that I’m the one he looks at as if he needs me more than air.
“Nine assists. If you’d helped out just one more time…” I tease lightly, only because he just won.
Clay grabs my chin and drags me up until our foreheads are pressed together. “Consider this the tenth.”
He drops me back on the bed and spreads my legs. He’s ravenous. Before long, I’m coming, my body tightening with pleasure until I’m gasping.
“That fifteen minutes?” I pant as he shifts over me.
“No.” He runs a hand down my body, caressing my breast, gripping my hip.
I soak in the sight of him, his scent, the rough sound of his voice.
“You didn’t check the clock,” I point out.
He sinks inside me and fills me so completely I can’t speak.
“Everything else will wait.”
“For you?” I manage with a smile.
His eyes lock with mine. “For us.”
WESTERN CONFERENCE FINALS
LOS ANGELES
30
CLAY
We roll up to LA riding a high, having won our first two series, doing what the oddsmakers said we couldn’t.
Only now, we’re staring down the barrel of the defending champions—in their building. Kyle’s still out and my knee is questionable.
There’s no mistaking we’re underdogs as we take the court.
The first quarter is like watching a car wreck.
Atlas gets caught in the perimeter where he can’t shoot or guard.
Jay gets double-teamed by bigger guards.
Miles misses his first four attempts from deep.
Rookie tries unsuccessfully to take the ball into the paint, only to get turned over by more experienced guys.
If I questioned how much trouble we’d face in LA, now I have my answer.
