I Sat on My Stepfather's Lap All Match, and Mom Was Filming novel · Chapter 2 of 24
Chapter 2: Goal
His hand goes under her skirt in the roar of a goal, a stranger in the next seat watches it all, and he calls Gabriel by name.
Gabriel's hands tightened on my hips, and he pulled me back down onto him hard.
I felt all of him through two layers of cloth, thick and hot and pushing right where I was wet.
A sound came out of me, and the noise of the stadium swallowed it.
"You want this?" he said into my ear. His voice had gone low and rough and ugly. "Say it."
"I want it," I whispered. "I've wanted it for a year."
His breath stopped for one second.
Then his right hand left my hip and slid under the hem of my skirt.
The fans behind us were standing again, shouting, throwing their arms in the air.
Nobody was looking at the last row.
His palm moved up the inside of my thigh, slowly, and every inch of it was hotter than the one before.
His fingers found the lace of my underwear and stopped.
"You're soaked," he said.
"That's your fault."
"I know whose fault it is."
He hooked the lace aside with one thumb.
I bit my lip so hard it hurt.
Two fingers slid through me, once, from the back to the front, and found my clit.
My whole body locked up.
"Quiet," he said. "Your mother's right there."
She was. She had turned in her seat to wave at someone two rows down, and her blonde head was a hand's width from my knee.
"Lainey? Honey, are you warm?"
Gabriel's fingers circled slowly, and I could not speak.
"A little," I managed. "It's loud."
"Drink some water."
"I will."
She turned back around.
Gabriel's other hand reached past me and picked up my water bottle from the floor.
He held it in front of my mouth with his free hand and kept the other one moving.
I drank. Water ran down my chin.
"Good girl," he said, so softly that I felt it more than heard it.
I came close to coming right then.
His fingers sped up.
He pressed down on my clit and rubbed in tight, hard circles.
His other hand held me against his cock, so I could feel what I was doing to him.
My hips rolled by themselves.
"Don't move," he said. "Let me do it."
I held still.
I held absolutely still while his fingers worked me under my skirt.
In front of me my mother clapped along with the chant.
A man two rows up began to scream.
The ball was in the net, and the whole stadium came apart.
Everyone was on their feet and shouting.
Flags went up, and somebody's beer went over.
My brother was jumping on his seat.
Gabriel pushed two fingers deep inside me and ground the heel of his hand against my clit.
I came.
I came with my teeth in my own sleeve and my back arched against his chest.
My whole body shook on his fingers while the stadium roared.
He held me through it.
He did not stop until I stopped, and then he slid his hand out from under my skirt and wiped it on his jeans.
My mother turned around with her phone up and her face shining.
"Did you see that? Gabe, did you see that goal?"
"I saw it," Gabriel said.
His voice sounded almost normal.
"You two are quiet," she said.
"Lainey's got a headache," Gabriel said. "I'm keeping her calm."
My mother pressed the back of her hand to my cheek.
"You're burning up, baby. Do you want to leave?"
"No," I said. "I want to see the rest."
She looked at us both for a moment, smiling.
"Good. Don't wander off," she said, and turned back to the game.
I let out a long, shaking breath against Gabriel's neck.
He was still hard under me. He had not come, and he was not going to.
His arm came around my waist and held me there, and I felt how tightly he was gripping himself.
"That was a mistake," he said quietly.
"It was the best thing I've ever done."
"Both of those are true."
I laughed into his collar.
That was when I noticed the man in the next seat again.
He had turned his whole body toward us.
He was leaning his elbow on the empty frame of the cut seat.
He was not watching the match at all.
His eyes went from my flushed face to Gabriel's hand on my waist.
Then they went to my skirt, which was crooked.
Slowly, he smiled.
It was a dark, easy, knowing smile, and it did not apologize for anything.
My stomach dropped.
I felt Gabriel go rigid under me.
"Don't," Gabriel said, low.
"I didn't say anything," the man said.
His accent was Italian. His voice was soft and warm, and he was looking only at Gabriel.
"Gabe," he said. "The back row of a stadium. Same as Milan."
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