“Fuck, you always smell so good,” he mutters. “I wonder if you taste like a cinnamon roll too.”
His words send my blood south, and I groan as he swallows down my thick cock. His tongue drags down my piercings, while on the way back up, his teeth drag on them.
“You’re gonna kill me,” I groan. His dark gaze insists that I keep my mouth shut, and I grit my teeth when his hand tugs on my knot.
There’s something about a man who knows his way around a dick that seriously turns me on. I’ve always been pansexual, I’m just not very vocal about it. Santo’s gaze remains on my face, watching how he affects me.
My hands remain curled around the bench, despite wanting to sink into his hair and fuck his mouth. That may come later, Santo is someone who is going to want to learn my body before giving over any kind of control.
Goddamn.He doesn’t have a gag reflex, unlike me. I love a challenge, and I’ve been trying to train myself to take his dick without gagging. Santo thinks it’s fun to watch me swallow around his shaft, but always loses his mind when I suck on his knot.
Taking me deep down his throat, Santo growls, watching my body shudders. I’m struggling not to take my eyes off him, obsessed with how well his scent works with mine. He smells and tastes like frosting, and my eyes finally close as his finger presses against my asshole. That’s the last straw as I come, gasping as his throat tightens around me as he swallows my ropes of cum.
Someone clears his throat behind us, and my eyes snap open. Fuck, this was damn stupid of me. My neck cracks as I look over my shoulder, seeing the coach glaring at us.
“Shit,” Santo mumbles, standing as I snap my legs shut.
“You’ve both been sloppy,” Coach Miles says, his arms folded over his chest. “You shouldn’t shit where you eat, Phillips.”
Great, now he’s insisting on using my last name. That’s wonderful.
“I’m not,” I say, reaching for the towel. Santo has been the team’s doctor for the past four months. While that’s a blip of time, I’m not getting my dick wet. Until now, he’s fucked, teased, and enjoyed getting his dick sucked. “I also don’t appreciate you talking about him like that.”
Santo’s body is stiff as I stand, wrapping my towel around my hips.
“We can tone things down at work, Coach. My injury would be much worse without his help, and his work ethic speaks for itself,” I say.
“It’s inappropriate,” Coach grunts.
“Then I guess Dr. Diaz should take me out on a proper date so I’m less of a fuck boy,” I smirk.
“That’s not funny,” Santo mutters.
“Wait, is this real?” Coach Miles asks.
Raking my hand through my bleach blonde hair, I think about that. Santo looks stricken, his lips swollen from sucking me off as he stands beside me.
“I think it could be for me,” I admit. “Santo?”
“I’ve never gotten on my knees for anyone,” he says so softly I almost can’t hear him. His cheeks are flushed with embarrassment, but that could be because he just got caught with my dick in his mouth. “I don’t typically fuck around at work. I have a really hard time remembering that around you.”
“This is going to fuck with Marilyn’s plan,” Coach Miles says. “I put my ass on the line for you.”
“How so?” I ask, struggling to follow the conversation. Too many big things are happening at the moment. I’m not sure if Santo is on the same page with me or not. Fuck!
“I told her you’d be on that date that she wants you to go on. It’s been good for our PR image. The public loves it, and more tickets are getting sold with the hope that Marilyn will choose one of them for you all,” Coach Miles says.
“I don’t like being pimped out,” I grumble. “I’m not fucking going. You can tell her that too. It’s bad enough that I attend all the other things you have me go to. I’m not a trained circus animal, Coach. No.”
“It’s really not that bad,” he sighs.
“Aren’t you single?,” Santo asks, his lips pressed together to hold back a smile. “What’s good for the team is good for the coach, isn’t it?”
“No!” Coach yells. “How did this get turned around on me, anyway? You’re both still in trouble.”
“Sign me up for charity work where I don’t have to socialize,” I grunt. “It can be whatever you want, I’ll submit to my photo being taken. I’m not going on a date with a random puck bunny.”
“Oh my fucking…Phillips, they aren’t puck bunnies. Please don’t let the team hear you say that,” Coach groans, his hand rubbing against his trimmed beard. “You’re killing me here.”
