On a Wednesday (One Week 2)

I looked over my shoulder to make sure that no one else was around, and then I tapped on the glass.

Laughing, Kyle pushed the window open and pulled me inside.

I flopped onto his bed, amazed at how clean his room was. With the exception of the tower of empty liquor bottles in the corner, everything was immaculate.

“Is there any reason why you can’t use the front door like a normal person?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “The girls who live above you run a blog called The Skanks of Pitt. They keep track of all the girls you and your teammates have in and out of this building.”

“Since when?”

“Since forever,” I said. “They take pictures of the walk of shame and include short stories about how they think the night went.”

“Interesting.” He smiled. “I had no idea. Where’s your friend?”

I opened my bag and Julia stepped out.

Unimpressed with her surroundings, she returned to the bag and curled into a ball.

“Hmmm.” He walked over to his mini-fridge and pulled out a water bottle. Then he poured it into a small bowl and set it onto the floor.

“Why does it look like you’re about to cry, Court?” he asked.

“Because my roommate is literally the devil, and I hate her.” My voice cracked. “I didn’t do anything to her—ever, and she treats me and Julia like trash for no reason. I just want to sleep it off.”

“So, are you planning to let her ruin the rest of your night, or are you interested in a distraction?”

“Depends,” I said. “What type of distraction did you have in mind?”

“It’s one I’ve been wanting to give you for a while. Something that you’d probably enjoy with me.”

“So, it’s something like a board game?”

“Sure.” He kissed my lips. “Like a board game.” He pushed me back against his mattress before I could ask another question.

Moving on top of me, he pressed his lips against mine and rendered me thoughtless and speechless all at once. Trailing his mouth down my neck, he kept his eyes on me, and he unbuttoned my shirt between kisses.

“Unzip your pants for me,” he whispered.

I didn’t move.

All I could do was stare at him.

He laughed softly and slid his hands against my jeans, unzipping them for me. Then he gently pulled them down.

Still staring at me, he slid his thumb through the lace of my panties and yanked them off, tossing them to the floor.

Grabbing my ankles, he slowly moved my legs apart and took his time kissing his way between my thighs.

Without saying another word, he buried his head against my pussy and slid his tongue against my swollen clit.

“Ahhh.” I grabbed a fistful of his hair as he devoured me with wild abandon, making my hips move off the mattress.

He blew a warm kiss against my clit, looking up at me. “Are you distracted yet?”

“Yes …” I moaned.

“Then why are you trying to push me away with your hands?”

I let go of his hair and he smiled.

“Good choice.”

He flipped me over and positioned me on all fours, placing his mouth against me again. His fingers slid deep inside of me, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.

I gripped the sheets as my pussy throbbed in anticipation, as he darted his tongue against me even harder.

I shut my eyes as he said my name, as he whispered, “You taste so fucking good, Court…”

I collapsed onto my stomach, my breathing ragged as ever, and I felt him slowly turning me onto my back again.

He ran his hands against my thighs until I stopped shaking, until I opened my eyes.

“Let’s go somewhere for another distraction,” he whispered.

“Now?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Now.”

Snow flurries danced atop the windshield as Kyle pulled his car into the parking lot at Heinz Field.

Ever the gentleman, he took off his coat and handed it to me.

“I want to show you something,” he said, stepping out of the car.

After he helped me out, I thought we would go through one of the formal entrances or the ticket turnstiles, but he walked me over to an exposed section of the chainlink fence.

A bright yellow sign hung right above the breakage.

Trespassers will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law!

“I can’t risk getting expelled.” I shook my head. “What if we get caught?”

“We’ll worry about that if it happens.” He picked me up and lifted me over the fence.

He climbed over next and clasped my hand, walking me through the endless rows of yellow seats and onto the field.

Walking past the fifty yard line, he pointed over to a gray food truck.

“One of my neighbors used to work for the Steelers,” he said. “He was the gourmet delivery guy for the rich people who could afford to buy the sideline seats.”

I shivered, and he pulled me closer.

“When I seven years old, I used to sneak into his car on Sundays because I knew he was coming here. I wanted to see how the professionals played up close.” He paused. “When he found out what I was doing, he paid me ten dollars to help him out in the back—as long as I could break down all the top plays for him at the end,” he said. “He was the first person who believed in me.”