Game Winner (Penalty Kill 3)

I sit at the foot of the bed, run my hand over my face, quickly becoming frustrated as she paces in front of me. Her walking back and forth is bothering me as much as her mouth. “A good girlfriend would leave me alone when I don’t want to be bothered. Thought you would have learned that by now, Presley.”

“Don’t even, Levi. I-”

I interrupt her with a loud voice to shut her up. “Pretty sure they told me to minimize my stress. You’re fucking stressing me out, Presley.” I try to massage my forehead.

Her boots appear in front of me. “Maybe you wouldn’t be stressed if you would stop being mad at everyone on the freaking planet!” Her voice softens as my eyes travel up her body and she pleads, “Talk to me, Levi.”

Quickly, I stand, wrap her legs around my waist and walk forward until she slams against the wall, causing the door to rattle. Presley’s eyes are wide and her chest heaves from surprise, her breasts brushing against my chest as I lean into her body.

Closing my eyes, I absorb the feel of her and say punctually, “I don’t want to talk.”

She feels so good against me. Presley doesn’t wait for me as she grips my neck, pulling me into a kiss. My hands sneak underneath her shirt, squeezing her breasts before I turn around and lay us on the bed. I unzip her boots, tug them off, then do the same to her pants as she pulls her shirt and bra off. Once I’ve taken off all my clothes and grabbed a condom, I hover over her. I kiss and nip my way down her body, starting with her shoulder. The nips are sharp and short as I pull a pinch of her skin between my teeth and bite down harshly.

One hand holds me up while I massage one of her breasts with the other. I swirl my tongue around her nipple, suck, and then place my teeth around it to nip. Presley moans as her hands dig into my forearms.

“Cross your wrists above your head,” I command. She does as I said, and I place my hand over her wrists to keep them there. Presley’s already wiggling underneath me, arching her back, begging for my touch.

“Put your legs around my waist,” I order, kissing between her breasts. She quickly obeys, crying out when I thrust into her. All my anger from the past few days unleashes. I drive into her as fast and as hard as I can, leaning down to press my lips to hers. Presley’s tongue glides over my teeth, love when she does that, and then I suck her lower lip into my mouth. I graze my teeth over it gently before biting.

“Oh God, Levi,” Presley breathes while I kiss and nibble down her jaw. Her legs squeeze around me, so I slowly pull out until just the tip is inside her and then thrust into her. I do it two more times before going back to the swift, hard drives. Swirling my tongue over her neck, I release her wrists and her hands instantly grab onto my back. She clenches around me, her nails dragging downwards as she screams out with her release. I don’t stop yet. Presley’s legs are locked around my waist, I find my favorite spot on her shoulder and bite down hard as I come.

Collapsing atop her, both of us breathing hard, Presley says, “You need to be angry more often. I think that was some of our best sex.”

I softly kiss the bright red spot on her shoulder.

“Do you feel better now?” She asks.

“My head has stopped hurting.” I leave her to go throw away the condom and clean up. When I come back, that pout is on her face and she’s under the covers. “What is it?” I question, crawling in next to her.

“You’re head still hurts? Why didn’t you tell me?”

As I lay on my back, I throw an arm over my eyes. “Can we please talk about something else?”

She tugs my arm away, so I look at her. “No. We can not. Levi,” she finishes quietly, my name a plea upon her lips.

“Do you want to piss me off, Smarty?” I snap for no good reason other than I’m tired of talking already.

A small smile plays on her lips, completely ignoring the tone I just used on her. “Do we get to have sex again if I do?”

I can’t help my laugh. “No.” The beginning of another fucking headache creeps, so I reach for the meds the doctor said I could take. Pres watches as I dry-swallow it.

“Hurts again?”

“Just a little.”

Smarty instructs me to lay so she can massage my temple. After a minute or so, she asks, “Feel any better?” I hum in response. “Is anything else bothering you?”

Where does she want me to start? Everything that could possibly bother me is doing so.

Tentatively, she adds, “Maybe you should come home, Levi. I could take care of you like I did last Christmas.”

“Are you saying that because you want to help me or because then I’ll have no choice but to talk to you?”

“Will you stop?” she snaps. “Get rid of the attitude, Levi. I’m trying to help you work through this. It would be less stressful and you could rest.”

Sighing, I sit up, moving away to put my feet on the floor and my back faces her. My jaw clenches. I’m in no mood for her to fight me on what I’m about to say. “Go home, Presley.”

Turns out, she’s as fed up as I am. “Why are you being so hardheaded? You were injured in your first game and that sucks, but you aren’t going to get better by moping around and pissing off everyone around you. Get your shit together, Levi.”