the cock part and profess actual love is too shameful to fathom. Obviously I don’t—love him, that is. I am developing a strong bond with his penis, however. I bite his shoulder to stop the words, porn-moaning instead. It’s safer.
He urges my head up, freeing my teeth from his skin. I’ve left a giant hickey. Actually, I’ve left several. His lips brush mine in a soft kiss. Alex whispers against them—how good I feel, how he’s going to come, how he loves watching me come. The orgasm keeps going, steamrolling over me; it’s a sensory explosion like no other. Alex groans through his final thrust.
My eyes snap open, because dammit, I want to see his come face. The muscles in his jaw tighten, and a fine tremor runs through his body like a low level earthquake. For the first time in my life, I can feel the twitch and pulse of a man coming inside of me. I’m going to put this one in the bank for future jilling sessions.
He flops down on the mattress, taking me with him. “That was even better than the first time.”
Too exhausted to speak in full sentences, I say, “So awesome. Tired.”
He laughs softly, stroking my hair. A few minutes pass, then he shifts my limp body, and pulls out. Alex sets an alarm for me and leaves the key card on the nightstand. I should get dressed and go, but my body won’t obey the command to move. I mumble about needing to be in my room early, but I’m not sure my words make sense. He turns off the light and slips his arm under me, drawing me against his side.
“ Fall asleep with me?”
I pass out with my cheek on his chest and his lips on my temple.
I wake with a start. My right side is sweaty. I can’t see the clock on the nightstand without my glasses. Alex’s arm is heavy as hell. He’s wrapped around me with his nose pressed into my hair. I lift his arm—it takes some effort—and slide gingerly out of bed. My thighs and my cooter ache, and my skin pebbles in the absence of Alex’s furnace-like body heat.
The reality of what I’ve done hits me like a UFC uppercut. I’ve had sex with one of Buck’s teammates. I will invariably see him again. Repeatedly. This was a terrible idea. He’s a hockey whore, and now I’m a hockey hooker. I experience a swell of shame followed by desire as I stare at his fuckhot form lying alone in that well-used bed. He mumbles in his sleep, so I nab my key card and Spidey pants and tiptoe into the living room. I stumble around in the dark, searching for my shirt. It’s on the couch, but my glasses are nowhere to be found.
A faint beeping sound from Alex’s bedroom means I’ve run out of time. For one terrified second I freeze. I hastily pull on my shirt, snatch my phone from the coffee table, sprint to the door, and let myself out. I take the stairs all the way to the sixth floor.
Inside my room in the suite, I slide down the door, breathing hard. I hit the floor with a wince; my cooter has been in an epic battle—with a cock monster.
I had amazing sex with Alex Waters. Twice. I have no idea how much of a player he is or how high profile. Not that it matters. It’ll be awkward regardless. I drop my head in my hands.
What the hell have I done?
ALEX
The most annoying sound in the world permeates my sleep. I will it to stop. I want to kick its ass for interrupting my dream that includes soft, full tits I can use as a pillow.
The sound is not stopping.
Prying my eyes open, I check the clock on the nightstand. It’s six a.m., an unusual time for my alarm to go off on a non-game day. I palm my phone and cease the noise, then close my eyes, hoping to resume the dream; the perfect boobs, the hot, tight—it all comes back like whiplash.
I had sex with Butterson’s sister. Stepsister . Both times were stellar. Unless it was part of my vivid dream. I lift my fingers to my nose and sniff. Yeah, it definitely happened.
I sit up with a groan. My whole body is sore: my head, my face, and my legs in particular. I call
He urges my head up, freeing my teeth from his skin. I’ve left a giant hickey. Actually, I’ve left several. His lips brush mine in a soft kiss. Alex whispers against them—how good I feel, how he’s going to come, how he loves watching me come. The orgasm keeps going, steamrolling over me; it’s a sensory explosion like no other. Alex groans through his final thrust.
My eyes snap open, because dammit, I want to see his come face. The muscles in his jaw tighten, and a fine tremor runs through his body like a low level earthquake. For the first time in my life, I can feel the twitch and pulse of a man coming inside of me. I’m going to put this one in the bank for future jilling sessions.
He flops down on the mattress, taking me with him. “That was even better than the first time.”
Too exhausted to speak in full sentences, I say, “So awesome. Tired.”
He laughs softly, stroking my hair. A few minutes pass, then he shifts my limp body, and pulls out. Alex sets an alarm for me and leaves the key card on the nightstand. I should get dressed and go, but my body won’t obey the command to move. I mumble about needing to be in my room early, but I’m not sure my words make sense. He turns off the light and slips his arm under me, drawing me against his side.
“ Fall asleep with me?”
I pass out with my cheek on his chest and his lips on my temple.
I wake with a start. My right side is sweaty. I can’t see the clock on the nightstand without my glasses. Alex’s arm is heavy as hell. He’s wrapped around me with his nose pressed into my hair. I lift his arm—it takes some effort—and slide gingerly out of bed. My thighs and my cooter ache, and my skin pebbles in the absence of Alex’s furnace-like body heat.
The reality of what I’ve done hits me like a UFC uppercut. I’ve had sex with one of Buck’s teammates. I will invariably see him again. Repeatedly. This was a terrible idea. He’s a hockey whore, and now I’m a hockey hooker. I experience a swell of shame followed by desire as I stare at his fuckhot form lying alone in that well-used bed. He mumbles in his sleep, so I nab my key card and Spidey pants and tiptoe into the living room. I stumble around in the dark, searching for my shirt. It’s on the couch, but my glasses are nowhere to be found.
A faint beeping sound from Alex’s bedroom means I’ve run out of time. For one terrified second I freeze. I hastily pull on my shirt, snatch my phone from the coffee table, sprint to the door, and let myself out. I take the stairs all the way to the sixth floor.
Inside my room in the suite, I slide down the door, breathing hard. I hit the floor with a wince; my cooter has been in an epic battle—with a cock monster.
I had amazing sex with Alex Waters. Twice. I have no idea how much of a player he is or how high profile. Not that it matters. It’ll be awkward regardless. I drop my head in my hands.
What the hell have I done?
ALEX
The most annoying sound in the world permeates my sleep. I will it to stop. I want to kick its ass for interrupting my dream that includes soft, full tits I can use as a pillow.
The sound is not stopping.
Prying my eyes open, I check the clock on the nightstand. It’s six a.m., an unusual time for my alarm to go off on a non-game day. I palm my phone and cease the noise, then close my eyes, hoping to resume the dream; the perfect boobs, the hot, tight—it all comes back like whiplash.
I had sex with Butterson’s sister. Stepsister . Both times were stellar. Unless it was part of my vivid dream. I lift my fingers to my nose and sniff. Yeah, it definitely happened.
I sit up with a groan. My whole body is sore: my head, my face, and my legs in particular. I call
Similar Books
