Don't Promise (Don't 3)

“We can do this for six months, right?” I fidgeted with the waffle. I didn’t want to tell him I was financially strapped and I wasn’t going to beg my family for money. That wasn’t an option for me. I could make it on my own dancing.

Besides, the last month had been more fun than the entire summer of training. I was starting to see why the other girls loved it so much.

“Sneak around? Pretend we’re not sleeping together?”

I nodded. “Yes, exactly that.”

He laughed. “I’d rather not. I want you when I want you, and this is fucking inconvenient.”

“It’s not going to be convenient ever.” I realized this was going to be a disaster. We couldn’t have an actual relationship.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re always going to be a Wrangler. And that means practice, games, and press events.”

“So?”

“So, I’m going back to the ballet and that means performances, traveling, and practices as well. We won’t ever be in the same city. Maybe we should agree that tonight is the last time.” I felt a lump in my throat.

“Hell, no. I don’t give up that easily.”

“It’s not giving up. It’s being practical, Sam. A ballerina and a football player? This isn’t a movie. It’s not going to work. The sex might be amazing, but what do we have when the sex is over?”

He sat forward. “That’s the part we figure out together.”

I didn’t expect that answer. “What?”

He ran his finger through the bowl of whipped cream and coated my nipples. They hardened under his touch.

“Sam… this isn’t going to solve our problem.”

But my head reeled back as his lips sealed over one nipple and sucked before clamping onto the other one, licking them clean of the whipped cream.

He reached for the bowl a second time, and slathered my entire breasts. I laid back on the sheets as he licked and sucked.

“Sam,” I whimpered.

“You feel it, don’t you?” He studied my eyes.

I nodded.

My breasts were sticky from the whipped cream, but my skin glowed with anticipation for what he’d do next.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he explained. He hovered over me and I had a hard time imagining I could tell him no. But there was no logic to this. How could we possibly work?

“But…”

“Shh.” He pressed a finger to my lips. “You have to leave in an hour and I want to fuck you so you know there will be a next time.”

“I want a next time.”

“Me too.”

“Sam?”

“Hmm?”

His hands slid over my slit and I sighed. “That position earlier.”