Teardrop Shot Read online Tijan

Categories Genre: Funny, New Adult, Romance, Sports, Tear Jerker Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
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“Holy shit.” I’d barely breathed out before he was standing again.

I just gave myself over to him, because he was manhandling me once more.

He turned me, pressed me into the shower wall, and angled my hips back. Still with the condom on, he surged inside of me, and I almost sighed from utter contentment. Falling back, my head rested against his shoulder as he pumped into me, one hand holding my hip and the other cupping my breast. He thrust over and over, in and out.

He was riding me now, and I was his.

He kissed my jaw, bending over me. His thumb grazed my nipple, then rolled around to caress my other breast.

I could only gasp. That was all the sound I could make as he brought me to another climax, flooding every inch of my body, and he wasn’t far behind. He surged up, and I felt him coming inside of me.

“Fuck.” Another kiss to my jaw, then my mouth, as he held me in place.

I couldn’t think. I had no idea what had just happened.

He chuckled, the sound soothing and low in my ear as he squeezed me in a hug before pulling out.

“I can’t walk.”

“No problem.” He held me, keeping me pinned against the wall as he reached for the shampoo and soap.

“Are you serious?”

He grinned as he turned me around, face to face again.

I shook my head, taking the shampoo from him. “You move me around like I’m a doll.”

He swatted at my ass. “You are a doll. You barely weigh anything. You need more meat on you.”

No one, ever, had told me that. My body warmed to it. Then I was putting the shampoo in his hair as he did the same to me. We shampooed, soaped each other, and when we stepped out, it was thirty minutes later.

After both of us finished washing up, he had another hard-on.

I eyed it as I left the bathroom, my teeth nice and brushed. “I’m not joking about your back. They can’t know.”

His hair was tousled, and I ached to slide my hands through it. But he ducked his head, running a towel over it briskly.

He turned so I could see his back, laying his last remaining towel around his neck. “Are they still bad?”

They weren’t as bad, but they were still noticeable. “Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll hook up with Aiden before practice, have him cover them with something.”

“He’ll know.”

Reese winked at me. “He’ll never tell.”

I was struck speechless.

He proceeded to walk around naked, only the towel around his neck. I knew being naked didn’t bother professional athletes, but it was still something to get used to.

When I walked out after him, a towel tucked around me, his eyes darkened.

“Why are you wearing that?” He reached for it, and sensing he was going to take it from me, I danced out of the way.

“Uh, no.” I swatted at his hand. “Not all of us are so fancy free and comfortable being naked.”

He grinned, rummaging in his bag. “You should be. Your body is nice and tight. You look good with clothes on, but you look hot naked.” He whistled. “Anytime you’re over and feel the itch to embrace being nude, you’re more than welcome.”

He waited for my reaction, side-eyeing me as he pulled out his clothes for the first part of the day. He was reaching for his shorts, but paused. “I forgot. We have meetings this morning. I’ll still have Aiden put ointment on them, but they’ll be gone by afternoon when we do drills. We’ll be good.”

That should’ve been a relief, but I was still caught on his casual mention of coming over to his place.

I sat on the bed Reese usually used, tucking my hands under my legs. “So… um…”

He stilled, watching me, a wary look in his eyes. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I recognize that look. It’s the thinking look. Don’t think. We’re having fun, right? That’s all. We’re friends.”

“We’re friends who fucked.” I remembered all the times. “A lot.”

His mouth curved in a rakish grin. “And it was awesome. I’m hoping to do it again, and often, but I don’t want to do the talk. I hate having the talks.”

“The talks?”

He scoffed, pulling his pants on. He turned to find his socks and step into his shoes. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“The talk,” I repeated.

Then I remembered it was morning. He was getting ready to go to breakfast—breakfast I usually helped set up.

I shrieked, jumping to my feet. “I’m so late!”

“No one’s using the courts.”

“I help with the food. You know that.”

“But you don’t have to. You’re not going to get in trouble for missing once.”

I threw clothes in the air, grabbing for what I thought would fit. Somehow I ended up in shorts I wasn’t sure were mine, a tank top that dipped too low over my cleavage, and I had no clue where my socks were, so I grabbed for my sandals.


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