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800 million flashbulbs.
So not why I was doing it.
But I'll take it!
That’s it.
I’ve decided.
Life with Danny Manning is going to be a fucking blast.
61
Fiona
I can’t believe that I actually pulled this off.
The security at the Nailers’ stadium is pretty tight, but I somehow managed to sneak inside the private areas just by waving Ashley’s press card as fast as I can and pretending that I was some big shot press officer.
I strolled down the corridors in awe as I passed by some of the players, tall muscled men just getting out of the shower. Who do I talk to about living down here? I can bring a tent.
Finding Danny wasn’t hard; I just needed to follow the noise. He was right in front of the conference room, hounded by a legion of journalists that wanted more than just his short post-game comments. I figure that tomorrow people will be talking about his performance for hours on end.
The moment Danny sees me walking down the corridor, he pushes his way out from the circle of journalists and heads toward me in a hurried pace. I stand in place, looking at him come as if I’ve never seen him before. God, he looks so deliciously handsome. How in the world have I slept in his bed? I should buy a lottery ticket, you know, just in case my luck keeps being this good.
Grabbing me by the arm, he pushes me inside a room, stunned by the fact that I somehow managed to pass security. I just take Ashley’s press credentials and wave them in front of his face. Oh, yeah, I’m a resourceful woman.
“You’re trouble, Fiona,” he tells me, his words sending a shiver down my spine. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of his deep rumbling voice.
“You have no idea,” I say, going up on my tiptoes and pressing my lips against his. When I pull back, my heart is racing at a thousand miles per hour. “Where are we?” I ask him, looking around the place we’re in. There are wide polished benches lining the walls, and there are numbered Nailers jerseys hanging in front of tall lockers over the benches. To my right, the room opens up into a large showering area without any stalls. For a moment, I imagine dozens of naked gorgeous men standing under the running water, and that pleasant warmness spreads to my pussy.
“Welcome to the Nailers’ locker room,” he smiles, and I can hear a note of pride in the way he says it.
“Lock the door,” I whisper at him, placing both my
hands on his chest. What? I want to know how it feels to fuck in one of the most famous locker rooms in the US.
“You’re completely insane, did you know that?” he tells me, but turns the lock on the door all the same. Walking back to me, he places his hands on my hips and pushes my body until my back is against the tiled wall of the locker room.
“It’s your fault,” I purr, wasting no time and taking my hands to his crisp white shirt. With my eyes glued on his, I untuck his shirt and then start unbuttoning it. “You won the game, and you said yourself… You like a girl who keeps her promises.”
“That’s right,” he says, grabbing the hem of my blouse and pulling it over my head. His eyes become hungry as he glances at the upper curve of my breasts, and I just close my eyes as he leans into me and lays a kiss between my tits. Moving his lips up, he follows the contour of my chin and then presses his mouth against mine, parting my lips with his tongue.
Surrendering to his kiss, I let my hands fall to his waist and I put them to work, unbuckling his belt. I then open the top button on his pants and unzip his fly, my skin prickling as his hard cock strains against his boxer briefs and slaps the back of my hand. Turning my wrist, I flatten the palm of my hand against his cock and start rubbing on it, that sweet anticipation building inside of me.
“Missed my cock, babe?” he teases me, running one hand through my hair and tangling his long fingers in it. He makes me throw my head back and I gasp, tightening my fingers around his shaft so harshly I wouldn’t be surprised if he complained. Of course, he doesn’t; complaining is not part of his genetic composition.
“I sure did,” I purr, letting go of his cock and sliding my hand down his boxer briefs. I bite on my lower lip as I feel the warmness of his shaft against my fingertips, and I just grab his thick cock again, pushing both pants and boxer briefs down with my free hand. He takes the chance to kick off his shoes, and then steps out of his pants and boxers. Wanting him completely naked, I push his open shirt down his arms, and then take a moment to marvel at how perfect his body looks. Maybe it’s because he pushed himself to the limit during the game, but somehow his muscles look even more toned than before; the lines between his abs are carved deep on his stomach, and each perfect square feels like it’s made of concrete.
“You know what I spent the whole game thinking of?” he asks me, a grin on his lips. “Looking down and seeing you on your knees, my cock sliding in between your lips…” he whispers against my ear, and that’s all it takes for me to go down.
“I’m a natural at motivation, it seems,” I tell him the moment my knees touch the floor. I place my hands on his legs and then move them up to his waist, closing in on his cock.
I move my fingertips over his skin, tracing the lines separating his ripped muscles and going down to his inner thighs, but always keep a dangerous distance between my hands and his cock. He’s looking at me with an untamable hunger in his eyes, and I can tell that he’s fighting against the urge to just grab my hands and place them on his cock. Not that I’d mind if he did that, but I’m actually enjoying the creases of anticipation growing on his face as I tease him hard.
“Patience is a virtue…” I say, smiling as I look up at him. “Isn’t that what you always say?”
“Fuck patience,” he groans, finally relenting and curling his fingers around my wrist. Wasting no time, he guides my hand toward his cock and I submit to his desire, grabbing his thick shaft. Giving up on my teasing ways, I start stroking him as fast as I can, moving my hand up and down the whole length of his shaft.
