COLD HEARTED BALLER by Logan & Chance Logan

Author:Logan & Chance, Logan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-23T16:00:00+00:00

Eighteen

Max

Something is seriously wrong with me. Instead of preparing for the next game with the other guys, I’m standing in front of Calliope’s front door step...knocking like a mad man. Or would it be mad Max? Either way, something’s wrong here. I don’t do this. I’ve never had to chase a girl this hard before.

I’ve never wanted to.

When she signed offline last night, I kind of went a little crazy thinking about her. And I haven’t been able to stop.

I know she has Dickface’s party to go to tonight, and believe me, I’d be inviting myself to tag along if I didn’t have a game later.

I knock again and she swings the door open.

“Were you sleeping?” I ask as I smile at her hair that’s all over the place. She’s cute.

“At six am? What a crazy notion.”

“Good morning.” I slide past her, stepping inside, and almost laugh at the confusion on her face.

“What are you doing here, Max?”

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” I answer, because I have no fucking idea why I’m here, other than I’m becoming obsessed with her.

My game is completely affected. I can’t think straight. I can’t hit a ball to save my life, but it’s so much more than that. No matter what I do, my imagination leads me to the local bakery where I fuck the grey-eyed pastry chef. Dirty filthy fucking.

Speaking of fucking, she looks extremely delectable right now.

My eyes roam down her petite frame, taking in her black-silk lounge pants resting precariously on her curvy hips and the tight-white tank that reveals her nipples. If I were to tug that string on her pants, they would slide down in a silky pool at her pink-tipped toes. I wonder if Calliope is bare or just barely? Fuck. My pulse races at the thought of running my tongue through her wet pussy.

She leans a hip against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “Max,” she starts, “you can’t show up here unannounced.”

“I want to take you to breakfast, after I make you come.”

Various emotions flicker across her face before a scarlet blush blooms on her cheeks. I fucking love that blush. It’s naive, and I want nothing more than to come all over it. There’s something about her that screams innocence, and I want to defile it.

She pushes off the doorframe, and her eyes flicker to my lips, then to my dick. I don’t think Calliope realizes how easy it is to read what she’s feeling.

I adjust my hardening cock in my jeans.

“Do you still want to watch me stroke myself?” Her breath catches. “How about right now?”

She pulls her bottom lip in, and her small white teeth rest on its fullness, before releasing it. She debates with herself all of one minute.

“Ok,” she whispers, with her eyes on fire.

This time my breath catches. I reach down and unbutton my jeans, letting her see how my cock strains against my boxer-briefs.

“This is what you wanted to see, Calliope?” I ask, pressing my hand against my dick. “How bad do you want it?”

“Bad,” she whispers, “Let’s go to my room.

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