is snuggled into my side. I’ve never felt so content, on the eve of a game that could determine the rest of my career. The playoffs, getting serious with this woman, the thought of leaving Packton … it all fades into the background.
I wish we could stay out here forever, avoiding our problems and the shit that is bound to come our way eventually.
There is a sound of swooshing water, but a split-second of warning when the pipes click on, and then we’re being sprayed every which way.
“Oh my God,” Colleen yelps amidst laughter, springing up.
“You forgot what time the sprinklers came on?” I boom out a laugh, launching myself up.
There is a hilarious gleam in her eye. “I honestly didn’t even think about it!”
We’re a good couple of yards out into the grass, so it’s no use running for cover because we’re going to be drenched by the sprinklers anyway. As it is, we’re soaked to the bone now. But we do anyway, me pulling her along as the water splashes our clothes and hair. If I ever needed a moment to break the tension, the universe had just given me the perfect one.
We sprint through the pitcher’s entrance, back into the bowels of the stadium, cackling and gasping like school children as we make it to the locker room. And in the next second, after I take in her wet clothes sticking to the body I can never keep my hands off of, we’re fusing our mouths together so hard that I nearly fall over.
There isn’t a conscious decision in the moment between when we’re kissing and when we aren’t, it just happens and there is no going back. Colleen and I are somewhere near the showers, and I back us up into them, peeling her layers of sodden clothes from her body.
Her suit jacket, soaked through, hits the floor with a thud. Then I wrench her silky camisole down her shoulders, exposing her wet bra and tweaking her budded nipples through the fabric. Collen’s eyes are molten chocolate as she pushes my gym shorts and boxers to my knees, my cock springing free. I hiss when it hits the air, the scorching burn of my erection mixed with the air-conditioning and cool wetness of the clothes that rest somewhere at my ankles.
All that is left is her skirt, which she pulls up and over her hips while looking me straight in the eye.
Since those first few weeks of fucking in cars and closets, we’ve been able to take our time. I’ve spent hours on the mattress exploring her body, kissing and licking every crevice, memorizing each sound she makes and how she feels when I’m inside her with both of us hazily drifting in and out of sleep at two a.m.
We’ve done slow, and I’d even venture to call it making love. This is not going to be that.
No, you can smell it in the air between us; the primal scent of needing to fuck simply because we can’t keep away from each other.
The clothes still stuck to us are wet, matted to our bodies, but neither of us care. I turn her, taking one hip in my hand and using my other set of fingers to pry her thong to the side, not caring to even remove it.
Colleen braces herself against the wall, her wet hands slipping a bit on the tile. With the angle, her ass rides up, her pussy presenting itself to me, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to send a signal of pain through my body. If I don’t, I’m going to come way too soon as I fist my cock and line it up at her entrance.
My cock slides in to the hilt, and she’s so fucking tight that I see stars. I don’t let up, setting a punishing pace that has Colleen clapping her own hand over her mouth to muffle the sexy as hell noises coming from her throat.
This is the very definition of public, of a place we should not be fucking each other’s brains out. But I’m too far past any point of logic, the haze of lust and chasing my climax is all I’m focused on.
The tip of my dick swells as I feel her pussy start to tighten around me, and I pump faster, the noise of our wet skin clapping together on each thrust.
“Come for me, baby,” I command her.
As if my words push her over, Colleen’s entire body shudders,