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The idea of Colt with someone else or Blair.
“I… ” I try to explain, but Blair reaches, brushing her fingers through my glittery hair.
“It’s okay,” she says. “I understand. I’m serious. I just want us, too. The three of us. I’m just joking about the double-dick stuff.”
“No, you’re not,” Colt chuffs. “Double with our big dicks is no joke.”
She grins, turning to smack his knee while he laughs.
“No,” she says. “Our anything is no joke, and neither is our love. I only want you both. I’m not missing out because I have more than I could’ve dreamed for with you two.”
“Same.” Colt gets serious. “I like watching. I’d like being watched. Whatever we do at this beach house, I don’t care. I’m proud of our love, but I don’t want to share it.”
“Me neither,” I sigh, relieved. “People keep asking about the future. About games. About the Super Bowl. About marriage. They ask like we can be sure when I’m sure of one thing—our future is together.”
Blair climbs over the console. She gives me a tender kiss. Then she turns and offers Colt an even bigger one. I’m not jealous. She’s making sure he’s equal and not left out, even though he insists on riding in the backseat because he won’t let Blair do it.
“Fine.” She plops back in her chair, smiling, looking cute in her Atlanta jersey. She won’t wear one with my number or Colt’s, either. She won’t choose. “Our future is together,” she declares, “but only if you put the toilet seat down.”
“Oh, something’s going down when we get home,” I tease. “We have a big win to celebrate, and it’s Colt’s turn.”
“Yeehaw!” He howls.
And once he sees our surprise—the black leather chaps Blair bought for me and the bare breast and crotchless latex lingerie set Blair bought for herself? Once we tie Colt’s wrists to the bed. Once he begs to suck me, then lick her until his beard is glistening with our cum? Once I’m between his legs, fucking his ass while Blair rides him?
“Goddamn, don’t ever stop fucking me,” Colt roars as we give him the ride of his life.
Goddamn, I won’t ever stop loving them either.
CHAPTER THIRTY
I’m so full of love, but the lies drain me.
COLTON
After the game, stay there
I’m giving him the game ball
Itexted Reese before the game, but she never answered.
I keep glancing back from the bench, looking over my shoulder, searching the small crowd in the club area on the edge of the field.
Men don suits. Women wear dresses. It’s an exclusive crowd that pays for this level of close access to us.
Like a bar, they lean on the silver metal half-wall with their snacks and beverages, cheering as we take on Philadelphia.
We’re down 23-20 in the fourth quarter, and the tension is high.
But all I care about is seeing one small tawny head. Forrest would barely be tall enough by now to see over the railing. So maybe Reese would hold him on her hip. Then, I’d easily spot them. But I don’t see her either.
Maybe she said no.
Maybe Reese was too afraid when our publicist, Scott, approached her and Forrest in their season ticket seats, congratulating them on winning club seats for the game.
Maybe she broke her promise.
Maybe she’ll leave me sitting here, waiting for our offense to take the field, to fight it out with Philadelphia’s crushing defensive line while I fight the crushing break of my heart.
