First and Tension (Summersweet Island 4)

“Good God… if I ever have a kid, please don’t let it be a boy. You’re psychotic.” Emily shakes her head at her best friend, making me laugh at the dynamic between the two of them.

“I can’t believe you’ve already forgotten about Chocolate Torte Bagley. You are a horrible food baby mother. Very neglectful.” I tsk, which earns me an eye roll and a smack on the arm from Emily.

“I just can’t handle how cute you two are together,” Wren gushes, pausing from backing away from the building to look back and forth between us through the small window.

“We’re not together,” Emily reminds Wren, making me want to let out a loud, deep sigh.

I keep that shit to myself, leaning down to put my mouth right against Emily’s ear instead. “Wasn’t I just inside you last week?”

Emily immediately starts choking on the drink of soda from the can she just picked up, which she’s been sipping off and on while we were closing up, and I pat her on the back until she shoos me away with her hand and an annoyed glare.

Wren finally says goodbye and disappears around the corner, and a few seconds later, the bright flood lights surrounding the football field go out, plunging everything surrounding this tiny brick building into complete darkness.

“Well, that’s not creepy at all,” Emily mutters, tossing her empty soda can in the garbage and starting to back away from the counter, but she’s immediately stopped by the solid wall of my chest.

Resting my hands on either side of hers on the counter, I lean closer until my chest is pressed up against her back, dipping my head down and pressing my lips to the side of her neck.

“What are you doing?” she whispers, moaning quietly when my tongue darts out to taste her skin.

I smile against Emily’s neck as she tilts her head to the side to give me better access. Taking one of my hands off the counter, I slide my arm around her waist, securing her against the front of me, as I pepper kisses up the side of her neck until I get to her ear.

“I’ve always wanted to do dirty things with my cheerleader girlfriend at a football field,” I whisper, gently tugging her earlobe through my teeth until I feel her shiver against the front of me.

I shouldn’t be doing this. I told myself I wouldn’t touch her again until we finally had a talk and she stopped pretending with me, but I just can’t help myself. She really is a bigger obsession than football, and not just because I know the skin of her chest flushes when she comes or the raspy way she says my name when she does.

I want more of this life. I want to fuck her while she’s wearing a fancy dress at a charity event on Friday and hold her hand while she’s wearing shorts and a tee at the Dip and Twist on Saturday. I want to feel that excited knot in my stomach every time I get another text from her, just waiting to see what smartass comment will come out of her next. I want to watch her roll her eyes and snatch my cell phone out of my hand to change the song during one of our runs when she hates the choice I made. I just want her in my life, and I want it to mean something, and I want it all to be real.

Removing my other hand from the counter where Emily still has hers flattened, still refusing to look back at me, I run the tips of my fingers down her bare arm. Goose bumps pebble her skin in the wake of my fingers, and her chest starts rising and falling more rapidly when I drop my hand and start skimming my fingers back and forth over the exposed skin of her stomach that’s been torturing me all night long, right above the button of her shorts.

“Are you going to let your hot football player boyfriend, who just made the winning catch at the state championships, do dirty things to the captain of the cheer squad in the concession stand?” I tease against the side of her ear while my fingers continue teasing back and forth across her stomach.

Emily’s head drops forward with a small laugh, pressing her hands harder into the counter and grinding her ass against my cock that’s been trying to bust out of my shorts since the minute I met her here earlier and saw her wearing my jersey.

“Who says you made the winning catch?” she pants as I crowd her more against the counter, needing to feel every inch of her hot body against mine, while my fingers make quick work of the button and zipper of her shorts. I bury my face into her hair falling around the side of her face and breathe her in, my palm flattened against her belly as she pants out a few more words. “You probably shit the bed, the whole school hates you, and now I’m here to save the day and console you with my magic vagina.”