AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter three
Pool Balls and Blue Balls
Georgie
I’m not quite sure if it’s cute he lied about being a pool champion or offensive that he thought I wouldn’t notice.
“You ever heard of a spin shot?” Alfie wiggles his eyebrows.
“When you make the ball spin?” I guess.
“See, most people think it’s about the ball, but really, it’s about the stick.” Honestly, that should have been my first clue, the fact he kept calling the cue a stick.
“You’re going to want to set up your shot . . .” He lines up the cue on his hand. “And instead of shooting it straight, you give it a little twist.”
He does exactly that and the entire thing flies out of his hand and across the table. It knocks into three balls, none of which are the cue ball or the object ball he was aiming for.
“It’s a pretty advanced move.” He laughs confidently. His utter lack of embarrassment makes me all warm and fuzzy.
“Even for a champion like you?” I tease, holding my cue in front of me.
He leans back against the table and places his hands between mine on the cue, then he tugs me toward him.
“Let me tell you something, Miss Georgie.” He gives me a crooked smile. He pulls me between his legs. My thick thighs feel right at home between his.
“Tell me what?” That he’s not really a champion?
He sidesteps out between me and the table then wraps his arms around me to grab the cue. “That you’re setting up your shot all wrong.”
His breath flutters on my cheek as he’s curled around me. My heart jumps at the feel of his body pressed against my back.
One of his hands wraps around mine on the cue as he leans us forward. My ass backs into his pelvis and—woah, Nessie.
Nessie like the Loch Ness monster because lord, that boy’s got an anaconda and half in those jeans.
He stretches forward, continuing to fold over me. I feel like I could catch on fire with the heat burning between my legs at the feel of the absolute log pressing into my cheeks right now. He guides me to set up my hand as a bridge on the table then glides the cue back.
“See, it’s less of a slide and more of a thrust.” In sync with his instructions, his hips rock forward, and I’m pressed into the table with a shallow gasp. Ironically, this shot was one of my best and sinks a ball into a corner pocket.
“Seems like you’re my lucky charm.” I giggle and move my hips in a flirty, little wiggle. I hope he knows it’s a “please keep grinding that firehose on me” wiggle and not a “back off” wiggle.
I assume I’m in the clear when he hums a soft, gratified moan and tightens his hand around mine to line up another shot.
“We’d have a better angle if we moved,” he whispers.
Even though it's a statement, I hear the question in it. “I don’t want to move,” I whisper back, and my cheeks heat at my boldness.
“Yeah?” he asks excitedly, as if he didn’t expect me to stay.
I turn my head slightly to meet his eyes. There’s a look of pure adoration in them. And it makes me feel a little . . . smitten.
He couldn’t play it cool if he tried, and I like that.
I really like that.
“Mm-hmm.” I nod then ask coyly, “Who wouldn’t want to be taught by a ‘billiards master champion?’”
“Oh, uh . . .” He unwinds his arms and steps back, and I turn around bashfully.
