After a career-ending injury, NFL star Mason Reeves returns to his hometown in search of new purpose. He finds his ex-girlfriend dating new men, and his teenage children want nothing to do with him. As a matter of fact, they're hellbent on making hi...
Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I'm wiping the remaining shaving cream from my face when pale, naked flesh flashes behind me. The killer pair of legs is quickly followed by a streak of white-blonde hair, which billows out behind her as she runs past the bathroom.
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I spin on a heel, chasing after her.
"Absolutely not, Reeves!" Mallory screeches over her shoulder, trampling through our suite at the Four Seasons in Washington, DC. "Two hours until kickoff!"
I snake an arm around her waist, tossing her onto the unmade bed. "Which means we have twenty minutes before we have to leave."
She wriggles, bare ass in the air as she tries to right herself and fails adorably. "I'm not even dressed!"
Grinning, I crawl onto the mattress behind her, pressing my erection against her curvy backside. "I can see that."
The children's suspension couldn't have come at a better time. Instead of making a quick weekend trip to DC for the Super Bowl, we've been here for five days. The kids have had a wonderful time touring the city. After a brief fiasco with paparazzi, I talked Mallory into letting me hire security and a tour guide to bus them around, and we've had countless hours alone.
It helps that the kids have their own attached suite, and the door locks from our side. For the first time in months, we don't have to be careful about our noise level. While I love hearing her whisper my name when she comes, it's far more satisfying when she screams it.
"Mase!" Mallory groans as I sink into her for the fifth time today.
I wrap her wet hair around my fist, using it like a leash. "That's right, baby. Let me hear how much you love my cock inside you."
"Jesus," she croaks, easily submitting.
It's good the kids are happy doing their own thing during daylight hours, because I'm not certain Mallory would be able to walk for that long. She's learned to take my size, but even she has limits. Still, she surprises me every hour of the day.
Her fingers sink into the crisp sheets, her knuckles turning white. "Harder."
I piston into her, reaching forward to play with her swollen clit, which has had my mouth on it for a good portion of the morning. She turns her head, pouty lips seeking mine. I slip my tongue into her mouth, groaning when her slick pussy tightens around my dick. Our skin slaps together, a warm trickle starting at the base of my spine.
"You make me feel so good, baby girl," I murmur, pressing soft kisses to her temple, a contradiction to the punishing thrusts I'm currently doling out.
She whimpers, her muscles turning to jelly at the sound of my praise. She likes to hear the strain in my voice, the grunts, the moans. She loves it when I lose control. It makes her feel desired, cherished, powerful. Which is good because that's exactly what she is. She's my everything—her and the kids.
