The Penalty Box - Teagan Kade Page 0,3

given last night. That sensation still lingers between my legs. I smile wider at the memory of him sliding into me, his thick length filling me like never before, hitting places no toy has ever reached. So one rumor, at least, is true.

I like to come, but the Nolan King experience was something else—something new.

And boy do I love new.

I notice a bulge under the sheets and consider waking him with my mouth, but his eyes flicker open, Caribbean blue and so inviting. He sees me and there’s a moment of surprise as he realizes where he is before his face settles and his eyes shift to my breasts, lit hot white by the window light.

He places an arm behind his head, a dark knot of hair under his arm, bicep ballooning against his ear. I noticed the tattoo last night, but illuminated by day it appears more detailed and intricate. Everything about his body does. The possibilities of exploring it further send a flicker of heat licking its way up my inner thigh.

“Tell me I’m dreaming,” he says, voice gravelly, a grit to it that sends the flicker further.

“You’re dreaming,” I reply.

He gives a light laugh. “In that case, I don’t want to wake up,” he says, eyes dropping again. “Not with a view like that.”

I look down. “I imagine you’ve seen your share of breasts. They’re not that special.”

Even as I’m speaking the words, my nipples harden, the warmth of the window light turning them a vibrant, coral pink.

Nolan sits up to match me, the sheet slipping, his abs accordioning tight. He nods down to where the sheet has turned into a makeshift tent between his legs. “Someone begs to differ.”

I drag my hair behind my ear. “Why do you guys do that?”

“What?” he smiles.

“Talk about your dicks like they’re little human beings.”

“Little?” he chokes.

I put a finger up. “Okay, poor choice of words considering your, ah, sizeable friend, but the question remains.”

Nolan looks to me, shrugging. Fuck me, even his hair is messed up perfectly. The guy’s like a real-deal Ken Doll come to life. “You don’t have a name for your…” His eyebrows jump. “You know?”

I straighten up prairie dog-like. “My vagina, you mean? Ah, no. I call it ‘my vagina’.”

We both laugh and I honestly didn’t think it would be this easy. I actually expected to wake up alone, the bedroom door ajar, nothing but the breeze to console me. To find him here and excited is a welcome surprise.

But what now? my cursed head interjects.

I hadn’t planned this far ahead, so I decide to stick to routine. “I usually head out for a run. You want to join or you too wiped from fucking my brains out?”

He shakes his head, eyes wide and incredulous. I don’t think he’s used to a girl being so forward, but hell, why dance around it? That’s not me. Like I told him, I know what I want and I go get it. I’m not going to wait for life to come to me. It’s too short for that shit.

“Sure,” he replies. “We talking a jog around the block?”

“Something like that,” I respond cryptically, dying to know how hard I can push him. You don’t take home a Ferrari and leave it in the garage, right?

I climb out of bed and make no attempt to hide my nakedness, letting him get a nice eyeful of my ass as I make my way to the closet, sliding it open.

“Holy shit,” he says from the bed. “Do you own anything else besides Jordan jerseys?”

I suppose the row of red matching basketball jerseys would look a little odd to the uninitiated. “What can I say, he was the greatest. I get inspired when I wear his number.”

His eyes drop to the row of shoes on the floor. “And the kicks to match, I see. What is that there, like three grand worth of sneakers?”

“Five,” I correct. “Excluding the ones boxed up in the attic.”

“Some might say you’re obsessed.”

I select a sports bra from the middle shelf of the closet and sling it on, tugging the bottom to get it into place. I don’t have to look his way to know his eyes are wandering like pinballs let loose. I reach back for the matching leggings, tugging them on while he watches—quite unashamedly, it would seem, that tent in the sheets looking more and more like the Washington monument.

I select a pair of sneakers, and make my way back to the bed, sitting