Free Tackled by the King: A Bad Boy Sports Romance by Christina Clark Page B

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    The vein bulging out of Coach's temple looked like it was ready to explode. I stood in place, bracing myself. Coach glanced at the clock and looked back at me with a face screwed up in disgust.
    “Goddammit, Kelly. That thin ice you're on is melting fast. This is your last chance. Now go get geared up before I change my fucking mind.”

Chapter Eleven: Carrie
     
    Kingsley's warm, wet tongue dragged across my collarbone. A soft zipping sound filled our ears as my fingernails scratched against the crocodile leather sofa. I shut my eyes, allowing the sensual tickle of his tongue to roam down my chest. Up until this point, I'd been rectifying my half-year long dry spell with my g-spot vibrator and hula beads that I skillfully hid from Jamie and Jackson. I'd been completely fine without it, but finally feeling a warm body next to mine and the dizzying tongue exploring my flesh seemed to unlock a thirst I'd been neglecting for so long.
    Kingsley scooped up my breasts and pushed them together, burying his face in the supple cushion of my cleavage. I chewed on the tip of my tongue, fighting to keep still as he latched onto my right nipple. Despite his heavily inebriated state, Kingsley was sucking on and lapping at my nipple with more potent tenderness than the last 4 schmucks I went home with – and they were all sober.
    “Christ, Carrie, your tits feel amazing,” Kingsley mumbled, surfacing to take a breath. He reached between my legs and glazed his fingers with my pussy juices. Coating my nipple with the sticky liquid, he pulled back his finger gingerly. The filmy liquid stretched, connecting his fingertip to my nipple. He peered up at me, his cool gray eyes piercing into mine as he watched me squirm.
    “Don't fight it, Carrie. You like what I'm doing to you, don't you?”
    I moaned throatily in reply, my toes curling as the heels of my feet skidded back and forth against the sofa.
    “It's okay. You can admit it.”
    Another shivering tingle crept up my arms at his cocky smirk. For all that was good and holy, I couldn't understand what he was doing to me. Kingsley eased my legs apart, inspecting the slimy wet lips of my cunt up close. He smacked his lips and stroked my heaving cunt, the soft growl coming from his throat almost animal.
    “Fuck, you've got a beautiful pussy.” He spanked my mound three times, each a little harder than the last.
    I felt my flushed cheeks go even redder, feeling both exposed and aroused by his remarks. He dipped his head between my legs, kissing the trembling inside of my thigh. I pressed my fingers against my clit, moistening myself for him.
    “I gotta confess, I've been beating off in the shower the last couple of days, just fantasizing about what you'd look like underneath all those clothes...”
    Kingsley guided the tip of his middle finger into my yearning slit slowly, calculating the expressive bliss unfolding across my face. I had to admit myself, though not out loud – imagining Kingsley railing me from behind had helped me achieve sexual fruition on more than one occasion, too. And for some mystifying reason, the fact that I couldn't stand his guts made the final release even sweeter.
    Kingsley smiled, bending forward to catch the juices trickling down my thigh before it could leak onto the leather.
    “Man, I've already busted a load twice and I'm still itching to fuck the shit out of you.”
    “Enough talking,” I spoke up hoarsely. “Why don't you put that mouth to better use?”
    I pushed him away gently with one leg and flipped myself over. My knees burrowed in to the sofa as I got on all fours, the leather still warm from my body. I gathered my hair over one side of my neck and looked over my shoulder, lowering my eyes seductively.
    “Mm, that's an even better view...”
    I reached behind me and spread my pussy lips apart, egging him on. He buried his face between my legs and started slurping me up, holding me still by my ankles. I thrust my hips backwards,