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“You’re incredible,” I whisper, pressing my lips to her and reaching for my jeans to snag a condom. She grins against my lips and reaches out to stop me.
“I’m on the pill,” she says, reaching down and stroking my cock. “I trust you,” she whispers, nipping my lip with her teeth, lining the head of my cock with her pussy. That’s all the permission I need. I’m on her and in her in one quick motion and she cries out, wrapping her legs around my waist, spurring me on. I hiss out a harsh breath, bare inside of her feeling like fucking Heaven. I thrust in and out of her, sliding one hand up to her throat and putting some pressure there. Her eyes widen slightly and then roll back into her head when I find her clit with my free hand, working her until she comes and I’m right behind her, telling her how much I love her.
???
Football practice has been killer for these boys today. The guys that got busted drinking have been busting their asses running suicides. They’ve sat their two games out and I made them do community service work helping clean up the town square, so I’m sure they’re regretting 99% of their life choices up to this point.
“Alright guys, bring it in,” Jax hollers from next to me and blows his whistle. All the guys make their way over, some of them are moving a lot slower than the others.
“Now, what did we learn after all this extra work the last couple of weeks?” Jaxson asks, directing the question at the six that are in trouble.
“Never. Drinking. Again,” Simpson wheezes, collapsing onto the ground sprawled out and I snicker.
“That’s right,” Jax goes on, “don’t drink until you’re 21. Don’t drink and drive. You men have entirely too much life ahead of you for it to be cut short because one of you decided he could drive after a couple beers,” Jax says. I know this is tough for him. His dad was hit and killed by a drunk driver when we were in high school. I clap him on the back and take over his speech.
“Alright. Moving on, the championship game is coming up.. I’ve got scouts from six different universities coming to both games to see you Seniors play. For most of you, this is your only chance at being able to attend college. These scouts would be crazy not to give each one of you a chance on their team.” I can’t believe it’s almost the end of our season. I’ve watched these Seniors grow up over the last four years. Most of them were coming in as Freshman after I lost Zoe and they’ve seen me at my worst. We’ve all grown and bonded over that time, and without them I’m not sure I would have made it through. I’m just as grateful for them as they are for me.
“Now, I wanna get this shit out of the way and then we can move on. Seniors, you were just coming in as Freshman when I lost my wife. You showed me grace, compassion, and patience as I rearranged my life to be a full-time dad, teacher, and coach. You’ve seen a grown man cry more times than I’d care to admit,” Jax snickers, “and I will forever be grateful for the impact each and every one of you have had on my life. Now hit the showers, you all reek.” They all laugh and stand, most of them giving me fist bumps before trudging off to the locker rooms. Jax and I are tossing footballs and cones into duffle bags, cleaning up the aftermath.
“I never did thank you either, man,” I start, cutting a glan
ce at Jaxson and zipping up the bag. “I never would have got through the last five years without you.”
“Ain’t no thing, brother. I can’t imagine going through what you went through while raising two small kids, one of them a newborn. You did good. And while we are on the subject, I’m glad you gave Lex a chance. You deserve it. Zoe would want you to be happy,” he says. And I know he’s right. She wouldn’t want me to be alone forever. She would want someone that makes me happy, someone that makes our kids happy. But I can’t help but wonder if I’m doing what’s right for the three of us.
Lex
Stepping into the bar, I scan the crowd, looking for Avery. She invited me to girl’s night with her and some of her girlfriends but I don’t see her anywhere, so I head to the bar and grab an empty stool. Pulling out my phone I shoot her a text and order a beer from the bartender. My phone dings just as my beer is delivered, a message from Avery letting me know there was a bath time mishap, but she is on her way. This is my first time at the bar in town and it’s cute. I look around, taking in my surroundings. It’s very rustic but in an adorable way. Even the bartender is adorable. With her long purple hair and nose piercing, she’s making her way up and down the bar, checking on everybody. She finally lands in front of me and tilts her head.
“Well I know I ain’t never seen you in here before, sugar. What’s your name?” She asks, pulling a rag from her belt loop and wiping the bar down in front of me.
I smile at her. “Nope, my first night here. My name’s Lexi. Lexi Carter.” Her eyes widen and she lets out a loud whoop.
“Hot damn! You’re the new teacher. I’m friends with Avery,” she says, going on, “and I have heard aallll about you and Coach James. Sugar, all the girls in town are jealous of you and boy do I mean jeaaallooous. Ford James is hottttt. That boy is like an Old Vatted Glenlivet, he gets finer with age.” I smile at her quizzically, because quite frankly I have no clue what she’s talking about. She throws her head back and laughs. “Old Vatted Glenlivet is a super old whiskey, top shelf. Just like Crawford James.” That makes me laugh.
“You got that right,” I say. Because she isn’t wrong, that man is all sorts of fine.
“Names Whitley, everybody calls me Whit.” She shoves her hand out and I reach out and shake it.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you Whit. And thank you for your beautiful description of Ford. I have to agree, that man is smokin’.” Just as I take another swig of my beer I hear the door behind me creak open and in a split second Avery is sliding onto the stool beside me. She bangs on the counter.
“Whit. What the fuck? You were supposed to be off an hour ago. Honey Jack. Stat. And make it a double.” She slings her purse over the back of the chair, huffing her hair out of her face and turns her attention to me. “Sorry I’m late. Blake wouldn’t get out of the tub and then Gen needed help with her homework and dear god, Whit, where’s my whiskey?!” She screeches, just as the shot glass lands in front of her. Whit tips the bottle up and fills it to the rim.
“Fucking chill, Avery. You aren’t my only customer. And I’m not off yet because Dean is late. A-freaking-gain.” She turns and puts the bottle back on the shelf behind her.
“I can’t believe I pay you to cuss at my customers,” a deep voice rumbles from the opposite end of the bar and Avery squeals, jumping from her stool. She rounds the corner of the bar top and flings herself at a man. But he’s not just any man, this man is aaall man, his hair is long enough to pull up in a man-bun and it’s the color of onyx. His full beard matches his coal black hair and is neatly trimmed, and he is huge. I mean freaking massive. His thighs are thick behind his dark denim jeans and he is beautiful and burly. But if looks could kill, this Dean fella would be dead because Whit looks pissed.
“Late, fucking again, Dean.” She snaps, taking her apron off and tossing it at him after he’s put Avery down. “Cash me out. Now” A slow smile spread across Deans face. He shakes his head.
“Easy, Whit. You know I like it when you’re feisty.” She narrows her eyes at him, spins on her heel, grabs two whiskey bottles and saunters past him, hip checking him out of the way.
“Ladies, let’s grab a table,” she says, “trust me, the service at the bar is shit.” Avery snorts, cracking up. She grabs her purse and drink from the bar and we both follow Whit to a table.
“I wish you two would just bang and get it out of your systems,” she says, pouring herself a shot from the liquor bottle and sliding it my way just as the waitress drops off two extra glasses. Whitley narrows her eyes at Avery.
“Abso-fucking-lutely not, Avery. I’m not going there again. He is irresponsible, unreliable, and may I remind you that he left me high and dry when I needed him the most?” Averys face softens and she reaches across the table to rest her hand on Whits. I feel a little left out, but this is obviously something major.
“I know babe,” Avery says, “but how many times can one person say he’s sorry before you finally accept his apology?” Whit’s eyes shine with unshed tears. She picks the bottle up and takes a rather large swig from it.
