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As we step outside, fans and supporters eagerly approach us, holding up signs and expressing their support for our relationship. One poster has “The Les-Way Fan Club” on it. Leslie told me a few weeks ago about our fan page on I-gram. Seeing so many people attend the press conference and stand with us is overwhelming but heartwarming.
Leslie takes my hand again and gives me a grateful smile. "I’m glad we did this. It feels like we’re taking some of our power back. Thank you for everything.”
"Of course," I reply, pulling her closer to me. "I would say that this is for you, but it’s for us both. The media had the power over me when the fear of their lies had me denying apart of me existed. You. Now, not only am I not afraid of the power of media lies, I’m taking a stand against them. They won’t get a chance to do to us what they did to Eddie and Alexandria. They broke them, but we’re not going to allow it.” Just thinking about how low my brother felt after losing his wife tears at the fabric of my heart.
As if recognizing my spiral, she leans in and kisses me again, and I know that no matter what lies or rumors come our way, we'll always have each other's back. As we pull away from the kiss, I see a glimmer of hope and happiness in Leslie's eyes. This very public, very bold move with the press conference marks the beginning of our freedom from other people’s opinions.
We walk hand in hand towards our car, surrounded by fans and reporters, but at that moment, the only thing that matters is the love between us. Together, we'll face whatever challenges come our way, and we'll do it with the strength and support of our love.
As I pull away from the chaos of the press conference, I look over at Leslie and can't help but feel protective of the beautiful woman by my side. I know we've overcome a huge obstacle, but I also know there will be more to come. But with Leslie by my side, I'm ready for anything. We're unstoppable together.
***
As we enter our home, the adrenaline from the press conference and the support of our fans still coursing through our veins, Leslie turns to me with a look of intense desire. Without hesitation, she takes my face in her hands and kisses me deeply, her tongue exploring every inch of my mouth.
I respond eagerly, pulling her closer as I run my hands down her back. Our bodies are tightly pressed together, so I can feel the heat from her skin.
Breaking the kiss for a moment, Leslie looks up at me with eyes filled with lust and passion. "Make love to me," she whispers, her voice filled with need.
Without a word, I scoop her up into my arms and carry her to our bedroom. We fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, our clothes already being torn off in our frenzy.
As we lay there naked, I take in every inch of her body. Her skin is soft and smooth to the touch, and I run my hands over her curves, memorizing every inch of her. She arches her back, offering herself up to me, and I lower my head to kiss her breasts.
I take my time worshipping her body, exploring every inch of her with my lips and tongue. She moans with pleasure, her hands gripping the sheets tightly as she writhes beneath me. But it's not enough for me to just pleasure her. I need to be sheathed inside her, to feel her tightness around me. I position myself between her legs and slowly enter her, savoring the blissful feeling of her warmth surrounding me.
The pace is slow at first, our bodies moving together in a sensual dance. But soon, our movements become faster and more urgent, our desire for each other spiraling higher and higher. Feral energy guides each movement, something untamed, something innate. She’s thrusting up wildly, offering me the depths of her goodness. I thrust into her pliable flesh, claiming every inch of pleasure her body provides, giving her all the passion I have to give.
Leslie's cries of pleasure intermingle with my growls. Her peak is near, and soon, her body shudders beneath me. But I don't stop driving into her. I stroke harder and faster until my own climax blinds me with pure hedonism.
After what feels like hours, I collapse beside her, panting for breath.
Leslie’s chocolate irises sparkle with satisfaction as she pants. "That was amazing."
I smile at her and nod, pulling her close for one final kiss. “It was everything.”
We lay there entangled, a peaceful afterglow of lovemaking surrounding us.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Leslie
The Saint’s Heartbeats
I glare out the window as I drive toward my parent's house. My phone buzzes, and Monica’s name flashes across the car’s audio screen. Monica, the Saint's luxury sign maker herself, is calling me. She’s the head of the Saint’s Heartbeats, a group organized for all the Washington Saints players' wives, girlfriends, and fiancees. I guess I’m in the running for club membership since I’m getting this call from the team wive’s head honcho.
Wayne handed me Monica’s number the week after the press conference and said she’d talked to him about me joining the group, so he also gave her my number. I chuckled when he told me the name of the group. I debated whether to save her name under The Five Heartbeats or Queen Sign Maker Monica. I chose the latter. I anticipated her call for the next few days, but she never did. I had no idea why she’d wanted to exchange numbers since she didn’t call. I’m surprised to hear from her now.
Feeling a twinge of anxiety, I press the button to answer the call. “Hello.”
An upbeat voice immediately overtakes the dreaded silence. “Hello, Leslie! I’m glad you answered. I’m Monica Holsey, Richard’s wife. Wayne gave me your number, but I’ve been super busy moving the past few weeks and haven't had a chance to call.” She talks fast, as if she’s always on the go, and always has more to do than she has time.
“You’re moving? I bet that’s keeping you busy,” I say for the sake of small talk.
“You have no idea, hun. Not only am I moving, but as the head of the Saint’s Heartbeats, I’m also organizing our postseason gatherings, and you will soon find out that I give the best social events. If it’s not stamped by Monica, is it even real?” She chuckles at her own boastful comment.
I have no idea what a postseason gathering is or why she’s telling me about them, but I am sure she’s about to explain. “I’m sure your events are great,” I say awkwardly.
She continues, “Yes, indeed. Once a month, the team players' wives, fiances, and long-term girlfriends get together to support and empower each other as women. We have a unique experience as football wives, and who best to share it with, be uplifted by, and given tips by than other women with the shared experience?”
