The Beautiful Game

Chapter Thirty-Six - Carter

I'm about to fucking pass out.

I'm not sure if it's from pleasure or disbelief.

Lou, the girl I'd been fantasizing about for weeks on end, who at this stage pretty much had a degree in rejecting me, was reaching for my belt buckle.

I'd have happily sat talking to her all night, simply rejoicing in the fact that I was lucky enough to be able to share space with her. I've never felt that before, I know it sounds bad but talking hadn't ever really been much of an issue. Girls had undressed in front of me without me even needing to say a word.

Lou, however, so bright, witty, and mischievous; I could talk to her for hours. I hadn't even meant to kiss her; I'd simply gotten carried away with the thought of her in the stands at our game coming up. Maybe it was too soon to start thinking of her wearing a Hughes jersey, but fuck it, I'd die a happy man if I saw that. 

It had been a desire of mine from the beginning. She was so impressive with everything she did, her fierce loyalty to her friends, her intelligence and hard work ethic; I'd wanted her to come to a game more than anything. For her to see me in my own element, to impress her.

Not for the first time, she'd surprised me by kissing me back with a yearning that's going to be etched into my brain for a long time. For a girl who claimed she had zero experience, she'd moved on top of me like she belonged there. Her lithe body swirling and grinding, her kisses a perfect combination of sweet and dirty.      

I'd barely been able to hold myself back when Lou had ridden me, making hot, throaty, pleasure-filled noises against my neck. Her soft warmth and friction against me was enough for me to almost finish in my jeans again; the fact she hadn't lasted so long makes me think she wants me almost as much as I want her; and the thought alone is fucking phenomenal.

Scratch that; her wide blue eyes staring up at me between my legs is what's phenomenal. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips puffy from kissing, her already loose ponytail has fallen further, the blonde hair now framing her perfect face.

I never considered myself a man with a type, since I've been with all kinds of women. Tall, short, thin, curvy, brunettes, blondes, and redheads. Turns out I do have a type.

Lou is my fucking type.

There's a slight shake to her hands as she pulls at my belt, and despite my dick screaming at me, I bring my own shaking hands on top of hers.

"You don't have to do that." She sits back on her heels, biting down on her full lower lip. The glimmer of rejection and hurt in her eyes has me squeezing her hands.

Her quiet responding: "I want to." Jesus. I ease up the pressure of my hands on hers and help her undo the buckle slowly, the button pops open. The rasp of leather against denim is loud despite the film still playing; every detail between us is heightened in the moment. I keep going, slowly sliding the jeans and boxers down, revealing my erection, a very obvious sign of my attraction.

"Have you ever done this before?"

"No. I'm sure you'll figure I'm telling the truth soon; it won't be good." She laughs half-heartedly and nervous, her eyes even wider as she looks at my dick, the self-deprecation irritates me.

"Blondie, it's already better than good and you haven't even touched it yet." I loosen a deep breath when I see the relief and joy on her face at my compliment.

"It's huge Carter." My chest swells in pride at her comment, without the lustful haze Lou would probably hate giving me that satisfaction. But in this moment, she's intimidated, staring at my groin like it's about to jump up and bite her.