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I push him away, shaking my head. “Nope, you’re a stickler for time, and if we factor in traffic, we’ll miss the start.”
Masen throws his hands to his face, letting out a groan. While he’s cussing, I place the matching jersey on but scour the bedroom for my jeans.
“Now, you’re being a tease in the jersey and panties. C’mon, Addison, how about just a blow job?”
My lips press flat. “Because that’s not selfish at all.”
Finally, I see my jeans folded in the cupboard. I grab the pair, attempting to shimmy my way into them, followed by placing on my white high-top sneakers.
“Fine, I’ll make a deal with you,” he says in a serious tone.
“Oh yeah, go ahead, state your deal.”
“The team wins. I get whatever I want.”
“That’s so broad,” I drag, rolling my eyes. “Be specific.”
Masen stands in front of me then slides his thumb inside my mouth. I react almost instantly, but I try to remain unaffected.
“I get to finally fuck this pretty little asshole of yours tonight,” he teases.
I step back in panic. “Whoa, cowboy. We talked about this. You know, how you have a big cock plus a piercing.”
“We did talk, but you didn’t listen. Once you try it, I promise you will beg for more.”
An obnoxious laugh leaves my mouth. “I promise you I won’t beg. I’d bet my whole life I won’t make it past the tip of your cock going in.”
“Hmm, is that so?”
“Yes.”
“So, it’s a deal?”
I cross my arms but look away. “Fine. But you get the tip, and that’s it. Now, let’s go before we’re late.”
* * *
The crowd is cheering loudly in the stands.
We’re packed in like sardines which is not unusual, bumping shoulders at the edge of our seats as the scoreboard continues its countdown. There’s more nervous energy amongst us, several fans closing their eyes and mumbling some sort of prayer to the polar opposite—profanities being yelled against the already loud noises coming from the stadium speakers.
Masen is the worst offender of all. He’d put a sailor to shame with the words he’s yelled out.
Cruz’s team is killing it. My eyes wander to where Cruz is standing with a serious expression.
Sixty seconds are left on the clock, each number drawing down with the pressure mounting. The beat of my heart is drumming so loud, ready to burst through an oversized matching jersey Masen bought for him and me.
C’mon guys. You can do this.
The buzzer finally rings loudly. The stand of supporters jumps in the air to cheer the team’s victory win.
“YES!”
I fist pump the air, screaming at the top of my lungs until I fall into a fit of coughs from my dry throat. My arms unknowingly throw themselves over the girl beside me, hugging her tight while we continue to holler proudly. Then, I turn to face Masen as he watches his brother proudly.
Abandoning our chairs, we run down the steps with excitement. We stop at the fence, then wait for Cruz. He turns around, a smile filled with pride as he runs over. Masen embraces him with a congratulatory pat on the back. Then, Cruz turns to me, and I hug his sweaty body fiercely.
“Can you believe it, guys? We fucking won!”
