Tackled Read online

  Tank has one of the covers framed on a wall in the living room in his house.

  I snort. "So you're going to take one for the team and put out?" I whisper.

  "Well, first, I'm going to finish this massage," she whispers. "Then I'm going to put out. After that, I'll take you home and fuck you until your attitude improves."

  I smile. I'm a pretty simple man and Cassie knows exactly how to fix things when I'm all jacked up and stressed out. Between the playoffs and the nagging pain in my shoulder, "stressed out" would be an understatement.

  Cassie wraps a hand, slick with massage oil, around the base of my cock, sliding it all the way up to the tip.

  "You have a softer touch than Raphael," I joke, referring to my massage therapist.

  She slaps my arm. I close my eyes, savoring her touch as she strokes me silently. "You know that's just a curtain there," I whisper.

  "Yep."

  "And that there are other people outside of it."

  Her hand never stops moving and I have to swallow the groan that comes up through my chest in response to her touch.

  "Saw them when I came in," she whispers.

  Then her overcoat falls open just a little and I catch a glimpse of what she has on underneath. I sit up like a rocket, pulling open her jacket. "Holy…" I start, then stop because I think my jaw might have opened so far it hit the ground. "You left the house wearing that?"

  Underneath, she's has on a Catholic schoolgirl outfit – a plaid skirt that I can tell in no way covers that perfect ass, and a black bra underneath a white button-down skirt. Her hair is pulled into pigtails and her glasses are perched on her nose. Shit, she's even wearing little white ankle socks. With ruffles.

  She pulls a ruler out of the pocket of the coat, and hands it to me.

  "I've been a very bad wife," she says, her eyes twinkling.

  I groan. "You bought that car, didn't you?"

  She grins. "I did not, and I'm insulted that you just suggested that."

  A couple of the players walk past the curtain on their way out of the training room, their conversation unintelligible.

  "I'm going to smack your ass for coming here dressed like that."

  "With the ruler?" she asks, taking her lower lip between her teeth.

  "Take off that coat," I whisper. "Wait – look out there and see who's still here."

  She pokes her head out of the curtain. "I think Jeremy's in an ice bath," she says. "Everyone else is gone."

  She lets the coat fall to the floor and walks up to the massage table, putting a hand on the inside of each of my legs, and pushing them apart so she can get between them. I reach down and pull the little skirt up.

  "No panties. You dirty little –"

  "Slut," she finishes.

  "Filthy," I whisper, grabbing a handful of ass. I toss the ruler on the floor. "I'm going to use that on you later."

  "I hope so."

  My hands on her waist, I pick her straight up off the floor and set her on the edge of the massage table, swinging my legs out and lying down. She crawls on top of me and guides my cock between her legs.

  "Holy shit, you're wet," I say.

  "I was thinking about this on the drive over." She presses the head of my cock against her entrance and slides onto me in one fluid motion.

  "God, you feel so good."

  Her palms on my chest, pigtails swinging back and forth, she rides me. When I rip her shirt open, buttons pinging off the massage table, she grins. "That was not a cheap shirt," she whispers, shaking her head. "Nothing changes, Colton."

  I unhook her bra and cover her breasts with my hands. "I hope not."

  She leans forward, her pigtails brushing my face with every movement she makes, and she rides me until she's heavy-lidded and panting. "Tonight, I'm yours, baby," she moans. "Whatever you want."

  I could come inside her right now, hearing her say that.

  I grab her waist, pulling her down hard on my cock. "You're mine all the time, Cassie. Don't forget it."

  "I'm so close, Colton."

  The words that never fail to send me over the edge. I grip her tightly, pulling her down forcefully onto me as her pussy tightens. A whimper escapes her lips, and she grabs my hand, wrapping her lips around two fingers and sucking them to mute the sound.

  I'm going to store a mental image of this in my head for times when I'm at away games – my wife, dressed in a schoolgirl outfit, her shirt torn open, her expression the one she makes when she's coming, sitting on my cock with my fingers in her mouth.

  Then she drives her pussy down on my cock again and I grab her waist with one hand, pushing her down hard against me and letting go inside her in a surge of heat that nearly knocks the wind out of me.

  "Better?" she asks, looking down at me and grinning.

  "You mean, am I less stressed out?"

  "Yep."

  She looks proud of herself. She should be.

  "I'm going to need a lot more of that to be less stressed out."

  "Then you'd better get moving on it," she says. "We have a long night ahead of us."

  48

  Cassie

  "Sweet mother of –" Colton says from where he stands behind me.

  "I told you I was serious," I say, smiling as I look at the assortment of sex toys on the bed. I turn around to face him, placing my hands on his massive pecs and he flexes them repeatedly one at a time for my benefit, the way he always does because he thinks it's funny. "Let's work out your stress."

  "I'm going to get stressed out more often," he decides, his voice deep as he slides his hands underneath my skirt.

  "We'll have to work on prevention," I say, taking his hand.

  "I think I dropped the ruler on the side of the road, but if I had it I'd spank you for being naughty." His hand skims my ass cheek. We didn't make it home without a pit stop.

  "Make it up to me in the shower," I say, leading him into the bathroom. I get a little ping of "holy crap" when I walk in here, every time. Colton redid the bathroom a year ago for me, putting in a giant tub and a huge shower that could fit both of us.

  "After I clean you off, I'm going to get you filthy again," Colton whispers in my ear.

  "I'm counting on it."

  He delivers on that promise. Throwing me onto the bed, he pulls me to the end of the mattress and buries his face between my legs without a word. His tongue my clit over and over again, and then inside me with the expertise of a man who knows exactly how to play my body. This is a man who approaches sex with the same laser focus with which he approaches football.

  Basically, he's fucking fantastic at it.

  I'm putty in his hands, a quivering mess when he pulls me to my knees without letting me come. He spins me around, my back to him, and grabs both pigtails in his hands, yanking me hard against him. His cock presses into the side of my ass cheek, and the throbbing between my legs grows incessantly from the anticipation.

  When he runs his palms over my shoulders and down my arms, I shiver. Nine years, two kids, and three dogs later, he still makes me shiver.

  I adore this man.

  He pauses, his mouth close to my ear. "What?" he asks, like he senses what I'm thinking.

  "I love you."

  "Right back at you, sweetheart," he says, slipping a vibrator inside me. He doesn't turn it on yet, but I know what he wants to do and the thought makes me moan. "Put your hand between your legs," he orders, his voice gruff, and I press the vibrator inside me, my palm against my clit, not moving because I don't want to come. Not yet.

  I look over my shoulder at him, watching him coat his cock in so much lube it glistens. I lean forward as he spreads my ass cheeks, slapping me hard on the ass before he puts the tip of his cock against my hole.

  "Naughty tutor," he says, bringing his hand down on me again. The blow vibrates through me all the way to my core and my muscles clench hard around the vibrator.

  "Schoolgirl," I correct him.

  Colton growls. "Next time, we play naughty p