Page 119 of The Score We Never Settled

I groan not at how sore I still am, but how he can just take me because he can’t help himself. There’s no teasing about it, Briggs just continues to fuck me raw with one arm wrapped around my waist to keep me grounded to him and the other with his palm splayed domineeringly across my spine.

The fresh air mixed with the acres of land where no one can see or hear us makes it so much more freeing. Briggs lightly kicks one of my shoes to get me to spread my legs wider, and when I do, he groans and hits a new angle inside me.

“Fuck…” he mutters, pulling me against him tighter so he can hit every inch of me, every single time.

There’s a ferocity and anger in this that explains everything he couldn’t tell me.

He doesn’t want to leave.

He doesn’t enjoy how things are.

He’ll miss me.

And I’m the common denominator in this scenario.

Everything that we have and haven’t been rides on the here and now. Athletes, if lucky enough, have support from all angles—family, friends, and fans.

Briggs has the latter all day, and his sisters love him, but his father has been a blank space, and we’ve been on the outs for about two years now. His career could be so much brighter with having that anchor, and I feel guilty for not trying harder than I have.

I don’t want Briggs to leave, but that’s for selfish reasons. I have a life here, a business, and Uncle Ben.

But why can’t I have it all?

Briggs would drop everything, be out possibly millions of dollars for me. However, there’s no outlet after that besides me.

And, as much as I love this man driving me crazy with how passionate and confident he is, I’d like to see if there’s another side I can get to open up for him.

With impatience, Briggs drags me backward by my shirt, pulling me flush against his chest before his face nestles into the crook of my neck.

Still rocking his hips into me, he begins to press hard and long kisses along the column of my neck, making a mess with his tongue when he goes to a different spot just to come right back where he was.

A deep sound reverberates in his chest as he makes out with my throat, cupping his fingers underneath my skin to keep me exactly where he wants me at all times.

And it’s easy.

The flutters in my stomach.

The way my skin burns under his touch.

Standing perfectly still so he can take what he wants, how he wants, and at any pace he sees fit.

This is his goodbye.

For now.

And I quickly fell into how I could get used to this.

All of this.

Nonetheless, when we’re not together every day, in every second, moments like this feel even more unsuppressed and desperately needed.

Briggs’s arm wraps around my waist, his fingers descending between my legs before he starts playing with me there.

A delirious moan escapes my lips when Briggs turns my head and crashes his along the base of mine. His devilish tongue works around mine, coaxing every stimulated nerve in my body to combust and break apart.

Sex with Briggs has always been amazing.

But sex with Briggs after the last two years, when he’s about to leave, is indescribable.