Page 93 of Trick Play
She strokes my neck and shoulders as I come down from the high, and when I look up at her face, she gives me a gentle smile. “I love you too,” she says.
Happiness lights me up from the inside, and I kiss her, unable to do anything else. “I’ll make you so happy, baby,” I promise when I pull back. “Whatever you want, if I’m able to give it to you, it’s yours.”
Laughing, she kisses me again. “All I want is you.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Piper
Cal groans as I reach for my phone, which sits on his nightstand, vibrating with an alert. “I think I liked it better when you had your phones-off rule,” he grumbles, wrapping himself around my naked body, caressing my breasts like he didn’t just feast on them a few minutes ago to our mutual satisfaction, and placing a kiss between my shoulder blades.
I let him pull me back against him as I look at my phone. “It’s not like I’m looking at it during sex. I don’t know what you’re complaining about. Besides, it’s Gray asking if we’re free for dinner tonight.” Classes started last week for spring semester, and I’ve barely seen him. I’m not sure if it was the way Cal jumped in and punched Brent in the face before the game a couple weeks ago, Cal taking the fall so Gray could play, or something else entirely, but Gray doesn’t seem to have a problem with me being with Cal anymore. They’ll never be best friends, but they’re at least capable of being in the same room without trading glares or wanting to punch each other, so I’ll take it. I hated being at odds with my brother, and now that I don’t have to be, I’m grateful.
Cal growls against my shoulder. “I thought we were going to spend the night here.”
Glancing at him over my shoulder, I raise my eyebrows. “You weren’t planning on stopping for dinner?”
Just then his stomach growls, prompting a laugh from me.
He makes another grumbly noise and drops a kiss on my shoulder. “Fine. We can have dinner with your brother. Where? His place, or do you want to invite him over here?”
I send off a quick text relaying Cal’s questions, then set my phone down and roll so I’m facing Cal, tangling my legs with his.
A small smile pulls up the corners of his mouth. “Much better,” he says, pulling me tighter against him and kissing me. He’s already hardening and lengthening against my thigh. When I try to pull back to express my surprise that he’s already ready for round two, he won’t let me, instead thrusting his tongue farther into my mouth, rolling us so I’m beneath him, reaching for my hands and pinning them above my head.
He lifts his head, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he rocks against me. “Yes,” he answers my unspoken question. “You should know by now that when you’re naked in my bed, it doesn’t take me long to get ready for another round.” Releasing me, he pulls out a fresh condom and rolls it on, pinning my hands again with one of his before I even have time to try to escape.
With his free hand, he lines himself up and sinks inside me, dipping his head to nip at the top of my breast with the sharp edge of his teeth. The contrast of that sharp burst of pain with the slow, pleasurable slide has me moaning immediately and arching up to meet him.
“I fucking love the sounds you make,” he says, his eyes boring into mine. “I love the way you react to everything I do to you. The way you’re always willing to try new things. I’ve never had so much fun fucking before I met you.”
Such crass words shouldn’t sound so sweet, but they melt my heart all the same. I tug against his hold, and he releases my wrists so I can wrap my arms around him and pull him close. I brush a light kiss over his lips as he moves slowly inside me. “I’ve never had so much fun fucking before you either.”
He lowers himself to his elbows, his forearms going under my shoulders, holding me chest to chest as he holds my gaze. “I love you, Piper.”
“I love you too, Cal.”
The words come so easy now, like we’ve been saying them forever and not just a few weeks. When he first said it, I wasn’t sure if he was serious, but nothing in his face or his behavior made it seem like it wasn’t true. And even though he said it first during sex, all his actions outside the bedroom only make it obvious that he means it.
He starts moving faster. “This is gonna be quick, baby. Can you come for me again before I’m done?” Without waiting for an answer, he reaches between us to rub my clit, sending me barreling toward my orgasm in no time at all.
Minutes later we both lay panting and spent, still wrapped around each other. A few months ago, I didn’t want anything like this. I thought I had no time, no room in my life for a relationship. Really, I didn’t trust myself to pick someone worth having a relationship with.
Cal has proven me wrong over and over in the best ways—wrong about him, wrong about me, wrong about us. I thought he was nothing more than a player looking for a challenge and a quick fling. I thought he’d discard me as soon as he grew tired of me, and so I did my best to keep him at a distance. But Thanksgiving weekend changed all of that, showing me that he was genuine and caring and kind under his brash, arrogant, pretty boy exterior.
He’s not perfect, but he’s pretty perfect for me.
EPILOGUE
Tiffany
“Tiffany, you seem like you’d make a great group leader,” says Autumn, one of my new group mates for our scene in our Theatre class that we have to perform in a few weeks. I give her a bemused look, because it seems like she’s taking charge, so wouldn’t that make her the best group leader? But as I’m opening my mouth to point that out, she thrusts a piece of paper into my hands. “Here’s my number. Text me with possible meeting times. I gotta run!” And with that, she walks quickly out of the room.
The tall guy next to me, Jackson, clears his throat. “Umm, I guess that means you’re in charge of picking times,” he says to me, amusement tinging his voice.
“Guess so,” I say, looking down at her number then up at Jackson. I hand him the paper. “Why don’t you write your number down too, and I’ll start a group text so we can plan our next meeting time.”
Jackson takes the paper and lays it on the desk in front of me, pulling a pen out of his pocket and clicking it before writing his name and number down. I stare at his shoulders, broad, draped in soft gray cotton, the long sleeves pushed up to his forearms. He’s a cute boy, but I think he’s a bit younger than me. And anyway, I don’t have time for cute boys. Not anymore. Not at all the last several years.
