AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Fuck, Sam,” he groans. His large body covering my slight frame slams into me, his composure gone as he loses himself in the feel of my body. “I can’t…” he says, driving faster and harder inside of me.
My orgasm is more intense this time as my body spasms around his dick, sucking him in until he stiffens above me and I feel his warm cum release deep inside me.
The memory of Asher’s body, heavy but welcoming above mine, is vivid and I can almost feel him as I slide my fingers in and out of my core, mimicking his wild and frenzied movements just before he released himself in me.
The orgasm barrels through me, causing my whole body to spasm and shiver all over as the memory of him emptying all of himself within me fuels it. In the aftermath, I surrendered to sleep, my body finally finding the much-needed relief it craved.
* * *
The next morning, with nothing to do but wait for everyone to meet and decide the fate of Mrs. Kendall’s home and the land the Treehouse is on, I decide to drive by my old high school. My reason is a little bit of nostalgia and a dash of boredom.
After the reading of the will yesterday, I need a little distraction this morning, and I’m happy to find both the football and the cheer camps in full swing. As I walk along the sidelines, watching the cheerleaders tumble and the football players run plays, I'm momentarily transported back in time.
I turn as someone comes to stand beside me, surprised to see Asher there, grinning at the happenings on the field.
“Makes you wish you were out there again doesn’t it, Dragonfly?” he says, eyes never leaving the field.
“You don’t get to call me by that name anymore,” I seethe, going from wistful to furious in an instant. He doesn’t get to pretend everything is okay between us. Not after betraying me. “What are you doing here anyway?”
In my mind, I’m already blaming him for causing me to lose control of myself last night. I am a planner; I do not lose control.
The mirth drops from his face. “I’m sorry. I didn't know the space was reserved for the returning princess alone. Yeah, I'll take myself elsewhere.”
I stop him, grabbing onto his t-shirt. “Ash, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sure we can find a way to be civil with each other.”
He looks at me as if to assess whether or not to stick around, and I give him a tight-lipped smile.
“So,” he begins. “What brings you here?”
I shrug, feeling unsettled. I’m not sure how to act around him. “It's been ages since I came back here. I guess reminiscing about the good old days got the better of me.”
“That’s what you’re going with, huh?” Asher gives me a sidelong smirk. “Or maybe you just happened to see my car and couldn’t resist seeing the football hero in action again?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Please, Asher, you were neverthatgood. All I remember is the coach yelling at you ALL the time.”
He lets out a mock gasp of offense. “Ouch, Sam, that hurts. He was just hard on me because he saw my potential. I mean, I didn’t turn out half-bad, did I?”
I simply look at him and try to keep my eyes from rolling into the back of my head again.
“Feels like old times, doesn’t it? Me playing football, and you cheering,” he says, his voice warm and familiar.
“I remember cheering, yes,” I say in mock thoughtfulness. “But you, playing? No, I remember a lot of crashes. The name Crasher instead of Asher ringing any bells?” I tease. “Oh wait, you’re probably hearing bells all the time from hitting your head so much, right?”
“Laugh it up, Bendy,” he retorts with my cheer nickname, a big grin on his face. “Those hits pushed me to be a better player. Three Super Bowl championships better.” He isn’t boasting, I realize. It’s just the truth. He is a great player.
We fall into an easy banter, trading stories about our lives since we last saw each other. Asher tells me about his career as the star quarterback for the Chicago Dragons.
“I love the game, you know. It's always been a part of my life.” He shrugs, making light of his accomplishments.
“I bet you the lifestyle isn’t bad either, huh?” I tease, and he gives me a questioning look.
“Oh, come on Asher, I was a cheerleader, remember? You players always had the pick of the jersey or cleat chasers. And watching TV, I’ve seen the hot chicks on your arm. I bet Valerie Hendrix has been one of them on more than one occasion.” I try to play it off as funny, but on the inside, I’m admittedly a bit jealous. Simply the thought of Valerie begins to stir up old feelings of hurt and betrayal.
The air fills with tension as he turns from me to look out onto the field, the humor gone from his eyes. “Those girls don’t want anything more than the fame or money I can give them. None of them has ever meant anything to me.Noneof them.”
He accentuated the word as if he was implying that he never did anything wrong. Trying to clear the tension and avoid an argument in front of students, I don’t press the comment. “Well, still, you are the quintessential all-American dream, Mr. Star Quarterback.”
“What about you, sweet girl next door?” he fires back. “The perfect, all-American sweetheart.”
