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He nods and runs his fingers through his cum. He spreads it over my clit then pushes the remnants inside me. “Fuck.I’ve made a mess out of you, haven’t I?”
“I like the mess,” I say softly. “The before, during and after too.”
“I wonder what you’d look like if I made you lie there until I was ready for round two. That cum would barely be dry before I filled you up with some more. You’d take all of that, too, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I wouldn’t waste a drop.”
“Fuck, Maven.” Dallas touches his release again and spreads it down the inside of my thigh. He lifts my hips and drags some of the leftovers to my ass, too, and I moan. “I don’t want to, but I should probably clean you up.”
“I can think of a few ways you could do that,” I say, and I thread my fingers through his hair. “A shower. Your tongue. Your tongue in the shower.”
He smiles against my leg. “You like me on my knees, don’t you?”
“You do it so well, and you like being there, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” He hides his blush with a kiss to my hip. “I like when you tell me what to do.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” I challenge, and he yanks me off the bed.
I laugh as I land on the floor next to him, and he kisses me with the glide of his tongue and the sting of his teeth. I climb into his lap and he lifts us, walking to the bathroom while his mouth never leaves mine.
Dallas draws a bath for us instead of turning on the shower. He holds me to his chest until the water goes cold, and all the while I come closer and closer to telling himI love you, I love you, I love you,once and for all.
FORTY-SEVEN
DALLAS
“Great win, boys,”I shout. “We’re going to the fucking Super Bowl.”
The locker room descends into chaos. Someone pops open a bottle of champagne. I pull my dirty jersey over my head and spin it around like a helicopter before I launch it in the air.
Fuck,it feels good to celebrate.
It feels good to get past the roadblocks we faced this season and see our hard work pay off. All of those days practicing in the heat and the cold. The long hours in the weight room when I thought my legs were going to fall off if I did one more squat. The nights after our first, second, third and fourth losses when we reviewed film until my eyes hurt.
We fucking did it.
It’s not the first time we’ve made the Super Bowl, but it’s special, because this group of guys hasn’t been there together. We’ve had our backs against the wall, and we came out on the other side stronger than before.
“Dal. Media wants you,” Jett calls out, and he snaps a picture of himself with the George Halas trophy. “She’s out in the hall.”
“Thanks. Proud of you, man. Proud of you for not letting the adversity get to you. There’s no better QB in the league, and I’m weirdly attracted to your right arm.”
“That’s how I feel about your right foot. We’ve still got work to do, though.”
“The grind never stops. Let me do this interview so I can see my girl.” I pull off my pads and drop them to the side, nudging them out of the way with my foot. “I miss the hell out of her.”
“You have agirl?”he asks. He puts his phone away, and I have his undivided attention. “Since when?”
“It’s been a few months.” I give him a sheepish grin I don’t bother to hide. “I’m obsessed with her.”
“No shit.” He mirrors my grin. “She must be pretty great—you haven’t been this giddy in years. I’m happy for you, Lansfield. Behave yourself tonight.”
I laugh and head out into the hallway, walking with a lightness to my step.
“Dallas.”
Julie, our in-house sideline reporter, waves me over. I work my way through the throngs of people in the tunnel. It’s nearly impossible to squeeze by as I get stopped for autographs and pictures.
