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17

"You need to get back to football,” Ryan said amidst sloppy kisses, his fingers untangling the elastic rope holding my shorts together on my waist. I moaned as he cupped my arse cheeks, squeezing hard.

“Oh fuck.” I muttered, tightening my arms around his neck and grinding down on his groin.

“You're all fine now,” he pulled away, leaning back with his arms at the back of his head and staring up at me in childlike adoration.

I huffed at the loss of contact, holding back a sniffle. “I'm twenty-three, Ryan. Even if I manage to get in, the chances are slim by the way, I'll be retiring in less than three years. I'm old.”

He chuckled, pecking my lips. “Don't say that. You're far from old. Well, seeing as you've made up your mind, I'd suggest you settled for something outside football. What other passion have you got?”

“Hmm,” I gazed up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Lately, I've been thinking of going into writing...you know, smut?”

He quirked up a brow, holding back a laugh. “You wanna be
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