Tackled: A Sports Romance

Tackled: A Sports Romance by Sabrina Paige Page B

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Authors: Sabrina Paige
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inside someone so much.
    I grip her hair tightly, trying not to do what I want to do, which is pull her tighter against me and force my cock further into her mouth. I'd never do that to Cassie, but shit, it's all I can do to refrain.
    "Shit, Cassie, you're going to make me come if you keep doing that," I warn her.
    She looks up at me, and pulls away from my cock long enough to speak. "Do it," she says. "I want to taste you."
    When she returns to sucking me, it's stronger this time, more demanding. My fingers interlaced through her hair, I watch her take me in deeper. "Your mouth is fucking amazing," I tell her. "So tight and warm and wet. I can't wait to feel your pussy."
    She moans, her hand stroking my balls, and I'm pushed to the limit. I warn her before I come, asking her if she's sure, and she groans her approval. When I come, it's torrential. I let go, groaning loudly as I fill her mouth.

    I stoke myself more quickly , picturing Cassie between my legs as she swallows every drop. The image pushes me over the edge, and I come so hard that I cry out, one hand on the shower wall as I come onto the tile.
    Fuck. That's been building up. Two weeks of not getting laid and I'm going out of my mind. That has to be what it is. It's not Cassie in particular — it's that I'm fucking horny as hell.
    And jerking off just now did absolutely nothing to relieve that. The second my mind goes back to the image of Cassie between my legs, of the way she looked with her mouth full of my cock, I feel my dick stir again.
    Hell, this is going to be the longest summer ever.

11

Cassie
    " W hat is that ?"
    Sable's voice comes out of nowhere from behind me and I jump, shutting the laptop closed so quickly that I wonder if I broke it.
    "What is what?" I ask, my voice innocent. My heart is racing and I feel guiltier than sin, even though I wasn't doing anything wrong. It's like having your parent walk in on you and catch you watching porn or something. "God you're stealthy."
    Sable laughs and flops down on the loveseat across from me, lying on her back with her legs dangling over the end of the piece of furniture. "I'm not exactly sneaking around here like a ninja. You were really engrossed in what you were doing."
    "I was doing work," I say.
    Sable laughs. "I saw." Then, she adds, "Since when did your work involve looking at a website with an article called 'Football for Total Morons'?"
    I groan. So she did see the website I was totally trying to hide. "It's for work."
    Sable raises an eyebrow. "So they make the tutors learn about the sports the guys they're tutoring play?"
    I shrug. "Maybe."
    "Maybe? You're such a liar. You're learning about football because of Colton King."
    "I am most certainly not," I protest, but my words are flimsy. "I’m doing thesis research.”
    "Sure you are. You’re suddenly super into masculine identity in sports.”
    “Shut up. I was studying masculine identity already. The football part just…fell into my lap.”
    “Bullshit. You're learning about football because you have the hots for Colton King and you want to impress him."
    I pick up a throw pillow and toss it across the room at her. It bounces off her head, and she laughs as she throws it onto the floor.
    "You totally want Colton King," she teases relentlessly. "You want his peeeee-nis."
    "I do not want Colton King's penis," I say loudly, my voice bouncing off the walls in the apartment. "I was looking at the football stuff out of curiosity."
    The doorbell rings, and I jump up, glad to get out of the hot seat. Sable is easily distracted and she'll forget about football and Colton King's penis. I hope.
    "Is that pizza?" she asks.
    "Did you order online?"
    "Yeah, I already added the tip," she says. "Bring me my food, servant."
    I pretend to squint at her face as I head for the door. "Is that a wrinkle in your forehead?" I ask.
    Her hand goes to her head. "You play dirty. Is there really a wrinkle there?"
    I shrug. "Better go check in the mirror."
    "You're a

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