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I swoop down and kiss her through her release. “How does it feel, baby?”
Her beautiful brown eyes stare piercingly into mine. “Feels so good,” she giggles.
“Good, now, hold on. Let’s go on a ride.” I lay on top of her, pressing my nose into her neck. My strokes quicken. I hold onto her ass and thrust into her relentlessly.
“Wayne! Oh!” she mutters as she matches my strokes.
The way her slickness grips from beneath me sends me over the cliff. I release my cum into her heated walls, which contract around my dick, letting me know she has come yet again. It’s incredibly sexy to watch her come back to back.
I smile, knowing at least part of my job is done, but I’m not finished. I plan to cater to her until she understands what she means to me. Since I’ll be busy for the next month in the playoffs, we need this time of intimacy.
This is when I’m supposed to pull her into my arms, and we drift off to sleep, but that won’t happen. I’m just getting started. I want every moment to count tonight. I’m an athlete trained towork the hardest when I’m tired, and besides, I need Les more than I need sleep.
I intend to take my time and show her just how much I need her. I ease out of bed, pour her a bottle of champagne sitting on ice on the nightstand, and feed her a grape from the charcuterie board.
Leslie runs a finger up and down my arm when I sit beside her.
“Mm, so good. Thank you,” she hums after accepting the grape with her beautiful tongue.
“Are you talking about the grape or me?”
“You, of course.” Leslie gives me a knowing look as she lays back on the bed with the glass of champagne. She slowly pours the contents of the glass from her neck to her breasts and to her stomach.
“Now, that looks like a delicious glass of champagne,” I say, accepting her challenge.
I dive in once more, lapping up my celebratory drink, the only celebratory drink from the night that matters.
Chapter Seven
LESLIE
Red Lipstick
After sharing a magical night with Wayne, I awaken and stare at the man beside me. He’s gorgeous with a crew cut, featuring dusty brown locks curled to perfection atop his head. His prominent brows stick out enough to give him a smoldering green-eyed devil look when he's awake. A kissable nose hangs slightly above a dusty brown mustache, attached to a low-cut beard that perfectly lines his sturdy square jawline.
After stealing a kiss from his blushed lips, I quietly roll out of bed with the plan to make him breakfast.
Wayne has an isolation camp for the next two weeks. He won’t get a break until after his first playoff game. This evening, he’ll leave home to go isolate with his team to practice and focus on winning the Super Bowl.
It tugs at my heart, knowing I will be alone for two weeks. The silver lining is that the Super Bowl is the last game of the season. After that game, he can spend more time at home.
I rush into the bathroom to take a shower. I smile when I see Wayne’s pile of clothes lying beside the tub. The bundle of fabric is a vivid reminder of how he stripped out of his clothes and joined me in the tub when he got home.
Wayne knew I was hurt. Anyone could look into my eyes and see that I was wounded by not being able to share in the greatest moment of his career.
He quieted my fears and soothed my pain and worries by being passionate and attentive. He said all the right things. Hedid even better things to my body. And by the time I drifted asleep, I was back in love with no worries.
Letting out a giggle of remembrance, I gather the clothes, turn on the shower to warm the water, and take his clothes to the laundry room.
As I open the washer, I notice something on his shirt. I toss the jeans in the hamper and examine the shirt closely. There’s a red smear near his collar. My heart drops when I realize what it is.It’s lipstick.
I wore red lipstick last night, but my lips never came in contact with Wayne’s clothes. He stripped out of them before joining me in the tub, and this is my first time touching his shirt.
I smell the shirt, which has a mixture of the smell of a smokey bar and his cologne. I keep ahold of it as I make my way to the kitchen. The fire that raged in me on the way home from the game last night returns.
I have a list of reasons why I should call off our engagement.
Reason number 1: Wayne does not want to tell people about us.
