American Honey

“Never.” I push her toward her orgasm, giving her everything she demands from my body until she breaks. Being with Laney is beyond amazing; her smell, her sounds, the way she feels. It’s sensation overload.

“Oh, God!” She comes in a rush, propelling my release. With my own climax threatening, I wring out every drop of ecstasy from her I can.

As she writhes and moans beneath me, I explode, my body seizing in pure rapture. When my orgasm releases me, I drop down into Laney’s waiting arms. She hugs me tight. I hug her back; scenting her skin, skimming my teeth against her flesh, memorizing every luscious inch of her.

“Is that the first time you ever blew the whistle on the fifty-yard line?” she asks while gliding her fingers up and down my back.

I chuckle. “Yes. You?”

Laney laughs. “Definitely.”

“How was it?”

“Unforgettable.”

I peck her on the lips. I am idiotically happy at the moment. And it’s not because I just got laid. I very reluctantly withdraw from Laney --I could stay buried in her all night—and roll onto my back, snuggling her into the crook of my arm. We lay quietly, me rubbing her hip, her rubbing my chest. For the first time in months, everything feels right. It’s like when Laney is next to me my life is aligned. I kiss her head.

“What was that for?”

“Nothin’.” I shrug. “Can’t a guy just kiss his girlfriend?”

She glances up at me. “Is that what I am?”

“Well, Lemon, when I said strings I wasn’t talking about shoelaces.”

“Glad you made that clear.” She tightens her arm around me. I smile.

“Why do you always smell so good?” I breathe her in. That strange, exotic scent is tingling my senses.

“Because I shower.”

I pinch her playfully. “Smart-ass city girl.”

“Hey!” She flinches, giggling. “It’s Plumeria.”

“Plum-whatta?”

Now she is full-blown laughing. “It’s a flower that grows in Hawaii. My mom always brings me back perfume when she goes.”

“Hawaii, huh? She ever take you on her business trips?”

“If she can. And if I’m not in school. Why? Want to go to Hawaii?”

“Might not be a bad idea. I’m going to have some free time on my hands.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I’m not going to play football anymore.” That’s the first time I’ve admitted that out loud. It feels like someone just stabbed me.

“Why aren’t you going to play football anymore?” Laney asks softly, snuggling closer to me.

I huff. “Because I can’t throw anymore, Lemon. My accuracy is gone. And without that, I’m no good to anyone.”

Laney frowns. “Kam, you really believe your football career is over?”

I want to say no, but it’s time to face facts. “I think it is.”

Laney stares at me for a long minute. “How was it before you had the aneurysm?”