Touchdown - Leslie North Page 0,35

nudged at her swollen lips, prompting her legs to splay open even farther. And then he was stroking her hair, his jaw flexing, gaze swirling and intense. He rocked his hips and began to fill her.

“Ohhh my lord,” Jill moaned. Maxwell glided into her, hot and confident, stretching and sating in equal measure. He grunted, dipping down to capture her lips against his as he sank deeper and deeper into her.

“Jesus, Jill,” he murmured against her lips once he was buried to the hilt. “You feel like heaven.”

Heaven was an understatement. This combination of masculine heat and the security of being wrapped up in him, filled by him, sent her higher than she’d ever gone before. He scooped his hands beneath the small of her back, changing the angle of penetration, so that each thrust ground up against her mons.

When Maxwell started rocking against her, brusque but rhythmic, the last threads of her composure began to unravel. The sexy grunts that escaped him as he pounded into her were the final push off the edge. Something strangled and feminine escaped her, a noise she’d never heard from herself, wasn’t even sure she’d been capable of. And then the heat broke free, sticky hot and flowing, filling every last crevice of her body with tingles and awareness and liquid pleasure.

Jill shuddered, her pussy clamping down around him as she came harder than she imagined possible. Maxwell didn’t relent, and after a few more thrusts he buried his face in the hollow her neck and groaned.

He didn’t move for a few moments after he came. They lay embracing each other, trapped between worlds, sweat pooling at the points where their bodies touched.

And for Jill, it was better than heaven. There was something natural in their bliss. Something that she realized she hadn’t just been missing, she needed.

As Maxwell dove down for another sweet, thorough kiss, Jill received him eagerly.

For all the ways she’d been worried this might have been a big mistake…now she hoped that it wouldn’t only result in one-and-done.

13

The next day, Maxwell floated on air. His early wake time barely registered; he was smiling and invested throughout practice, only two things occupying his mind: football and Jill.

But not just memories of last night. He was filled with thoughts about what might happen between them. What this meant for the future. What else they might be able to do while raising kids and living their lives. Ideas filled his head as he bounced between workouts and practice and tape review. Vacations to California. Disney World. A European getaway just for them, while the nanny stayed behind with the triplets.

Why had he been so dead set on keeping Jill in the Auntie category? After watching her unravel last night, he couldn’t even remember. And he planned on never remembering again.

He was still floating by the time he made it home. A workday had never passed so quickly in the history of time. When he entered the house, the familiar clamor of the family greeted him: kids screeching, Jill laughing, and indistinct hammering.

“Honey, I’m hooome,” he called out as he headed into the house. He found them all in the kitchen. The triplets were clanking on pots and pans while Jill got dinner ready.

“Why hello there,” Jill cooed, running her hands over the front of her apron. “You’re just in time for dinner and chaos.”

“That’s what I came for,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. It happened without even thinking—not like he minded. Jill didn’t look like she minded, either. “Can I help?”

“No, you just relax. Play with the kids. Be yourself.” She shooed him away when he peered into the pot on the stove. “What I’m making won’t be as good as yours, but it’ll be dinner. Now scoot.”

Maxwell laughed, heading to where the triplets were. Jill was busy in the kitchen behind them as he joined the triplets’ music session. After they’d exhausted their rhythms and started whining, he knew it was time for the high chairs. He got all three of them tucked into their seats around the table.

“I’ve got their food ready,” Jill said. “I just need a server.”

“That’s me.” Maxwell scooped up their little toddler bowls as she got them ready, a mix of grilled chicken chunks and rice in each bowl. He blew on the food to cool it off as he doled out each bowl, handing off their toddler sporks in turn. The triplets had been demanding autonomy during mealtime recently, which was