The Balls in Our Courts [F.SxO.CxT.S]

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Author's Note: WOW! I updated when I said I was. :O I promise to be much more quicker these days. Especiallyyyyyy....GUYS!!! Part one only has 16 more chapters. OH MY LAWDY! Please enjoy and remember to comment. :D I love to hear what you think and trust me, I appreciate all your support to the moon. I will start replying to the last chapter's comments soon. I'm so sorry I am so behind.

After the night they had, neither of them understood how to act in the morning. It was all conflicting, and a prisoner of her own emotions, she had no idea how to tell him. They shared the bed that night, but neither touched the other, only slept away to their own worlds until the sun peaked through the window. When morning came, he rolled over on his side, and reached out his hand to touch her back. He leaned over her, his lips brushing against her ear, "it's time to wake up." Amelia whined, curling up in a ball. Chuckling, he tickled her cheek. "C'mon, I know." Releasing her, he climbed from the bed watching as she stretched out, her silk slip riding up her thighs. His eyes glossed over, his tongue swiping at his bottom lip. Her left breast peaked out from the side of the fabric, her nipple exposed and taunting. All his built up urge showed through his morning wood.

She let out a long, tempting whine as her feet curled and hands reached up to the headboard. "What time is it?" He walked over, tapping her cheek before reaching a hand over. Sleepily with hooded eyes, she watched as he tucked her tit back into her night gown, his finger accidentally caressing over her hardened nipple. A shiver went up her spine, and her body reflexed in such a way that was hard to fight against. A moan so sweet sounded no louder than a little bird chirping. Almost like a whine. Her legs kicked. Sleepily, yawning, she looked at him, still stretching, "mmmhm." She looked over him, not wanting to leave the bed. Her body was too comfortable, consumed in the sheets. His twitching cock constrained by his briefs; hard just like that day. "Mr. Shelby," she whined in a deep sleepy guttural. Her fingers ran over his stomach and when her nails teased over his sensitive area, a throaty groan.

He quickly grabbed her hand, closing his eyes. "Sweetheart," he breathed out. "We have to get ready. C'mon, get up."

"No," she whined, flattening her palm against his cock without much thought, sleepily and unaware of what she was doing. She pushed, rubbing up. "More sleepy." Tommy fought against using this for his advantage, moving away and reaching for his trousers on the chair.

"Love, we're running late," he said, tone darkening. "C'mon, you have a match. Get up, or I'll throw you in the fookin' tub!" Grunting as he fought with his trousers, he knocked the bed with his knee. Amelia sat up, hair in a terrible state. She looked over at him, in a daze. "What are you looking at? Huh? If we aren't out of this bloody fuckin' hotel by seven, you'll have something comin' to ya!" He turned, cursing under his breath, as he hid away in the loo to get ready.

Before he could get any more temperamental, she slid from the bed and dressed. When it was time to go, they took a quiet taxi ride to the stadium. Most days, he'd say something, but that morning, it all felt off. So much so, that he signed her off at the sign in booth and instructed her to sit near the lower bleachers. Tommy felt something beyond the normal case of jitters. Part of him couldn't even bear to watch the game and was thankful she was the first up in her division for he didn't have to stay for the whole day. He slipped away, grabbing a smoke from his pocket. The arena had a bar, which he gladly took refuge at.