[18+] ENEMIES TO LOVERS SPORTS ROMANCE.
*REWRITTEN*
°•°•°•°
Hannah Walker doesn't trust anyone, especially men.
They're manipulative and toxic - her lousy ex taught her that lesson well.
Enter Tristan Beckett, the embodiment of everything she despis...
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Tristan
I woke up to something tickling my nose, annoying the hell out of me. I groaned and turned my face into the pillow, rubbing my nose against the soft fabric to help alleviate the itch. Once the itch subsided, I grunted and tightened my hold around the warm body, pulling her closer.
A wave of strawberries and vanilla washed over me, and I couldn't resist burying my face in the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply. God, she always smelled fucking incredible.
Gently, I pressed my lips against the sensitive area behind her ear, feeling the delicate pulse beneath. A shiver ran through her, followed by a quiet, breathy moan. A small smile curved my lips as I felt her body respond to my touch.
As long as she didn't start hurling insults at me again, we were good. This was definitely one of the better dreams I'd had of her.
I traced a path of light kisses down her neck, savoring the warm silk beneath my lips. My right hand palmed a handful of warm, supple flesh, a hard nipple poking into the center of my palm. Squeezing gently, I smirked, my eyes still closed as I enjoyed the soft weight in my hands.
I knew when I had a pair of tits in my hands. And these were nice tits — not very big, but a decent handful.
Still cupping her breast, I pulled her even closer as my body began to wake up. I pressed her ass into me, the soft curves of her backside molding to my hips. I couldn't help but give a small thrust.
My eyes nearly rolled back into my head when she arched her back and wiggled her ass into me, grinding and rubbing against my cock. I placed my hand on her hip so that I could guide and control her movements, pulling her back into my small thrusts. Back and forth, I rocked her hips, my breathing picking up as all of the blood in my body traveled down.
Fuck. This felt so good. Too good to just be a dream, but there was no way this wasn't a dream. She'd never let me do any of this if it were real.
I needed to kiss her. Each time, she denied me, and each time, I was left mad with the need to finally taste her. Maybe this time would be different, I foolishly told myself.
"Babe, I need you to turn over." My voice came out as a low rumble, thick with sleep and arousal.
"Hmm?" She gave a sleepy moan, and my dick jerked in response.
I pressed my lips against her exposed shoulder, rubbing gently. With my chin resting there, my eyes slowly slid open, and I took a moment to lazily admire her.
Her eyes were closed, shielding those hypnotizing blues from me, and her golden hair cascaded across the pillow, framing her face like a halo. Light streamed in through the gaps in the curtains, and the strands seemed to glow in the soft rays. My fingers itched to touch them, to feel their softness. To fist them as I fucked her seven days to Sunday.
