“And Alka wins championships, yet somehow, you were still the one with the biggest budget.”
His face turns red as he stares at me. I’ve never seen a man with so much hate directing that ire in my direction. His hands clench, and I’m sure he really wants to slap me right now.
“The biggest part of the pot goes to the team that wins the whole tournament, with second and third place runners up getting smaller chunks. But maybe instead of making your players feel like they need to choose you or participate in something they want to do with their fellow students, you wouldn’t feel like an ass once you got here and saw that literally every other team has nearly theirentireteam playing—because they want to and were encouraged to.”
“I really hate you,” he growls.
I’m not sure why, but his words make my stomach drop. “I can tell,” I deadpan. “You hate me for existing. That’s fine. It doesn’t change anything I’ve said.”
He storms over to me and I swear he’s going to hit me. His hands are clenched at his sides as he rapidly closes the distance. Is now a good time to notice that he’s wearing this cute as hell skirt with a football jersey? Probably not.
Lemon doesn’t hit me. Instead, he does what he’s done every other time we have a confrontation. He grips my hair and pulls my face to his, slamming our mouths together. I grunt, reaching for him. I’m not entirely sure if I want to push him off or pull him closer.
The decision isn’t mine as he crawls into my lap, straddling me.
My hands aren’t my own as they land on his thighs and glide up his smooth skin to reach behind him and cup his sexy ass cheeks. I yank him closer, feeling his cock against mine as we roll our hips together.
Slipping my fingers under the elastic of his underwear, I dig my nails in. I need to get him closer. Closer. I need to feel him.
One of Lemon’s hands lets my hair go and it slides down my chest, my stomach, and pushes into my pants. I grunt, jerking up into him. His grip is strong around my cock, rubbing me awkwardly in this position.
“Touch me,” he growls.
Eagerly, I do. Cupping his crotch at this weird angle, I feel his chubby. Hard and ready. Leaking. He rocks harshly in my hand as I feel him. Feel his balls with my fingertips and his crown with my thumb.
I’m disoriented when he pulls away from me. My head spins as he climbs out of my lap and drops to his knees in front of me.
Now is the time to stop him. “Lemon?—”
But he already has me out and… I don’t want to stop him. He watches me with challenge in his hate-filled eyes as he pulls my cock out. He’s waiting for me to say something as he deliberately jerks me slowly. Letting me feel his grip around my cock.
I don’t say anything.
With a smirk, Lemon leans over and puts me in his mouth. I groan, long and low, as I let my head drop back and close my eyes. He’s not as quick as he was last time. No. This time he’s slow and thorough, working me to near orgasm before pushing it off again.
It’s fantastic. Amazing. My eyes roll as I slide down the chair to give him a better taste. Better angle. Lemon eats me up, making these quiet, sexy noises that pool in my balls.
There’s no urgency at all. Which is rather risky since there are three boxes of dodgeballs and a bunch of other things that someone could come in looking for. Was there a lock on the door? Did he lock it and I didn’t notice? Too busy being yelled at and resigned to that treatment.
This time, I get out a proper warning before I come. He doesn’t pull away but swallows down everything greedily. I try to watch as I pant through my orgasm. The way his mouth thatalways spews mean things is stretched around my cock. His eyeliner is running. There’s sweat on his brow.
He’s… breathtaking.
Lemon pulls away but remains where he is for a few minutes as he catches his breath. Then he bolts upright. Predictably, he says nothing as he scrambles for the door and runs out, his head down and hand covering his face.
I sigh, letting my eyes close as I put myself away so no one accidentally walks in with my softening dick laying across my thigh. I suppose that’s one way to be fired, but not how Lemon is determined to make it happen.
Fucking hell.
CHAPTER 13
LEMON
We’re having the best season to date and we’re only four games in. I don’t know if I have a better team this year than in past years or maybe we’re doing something different, but we’re leading with a 3-1 as we tiptoe into October.
There’s still a couple days before the next game. Already a third of the way through the season and hockey hasn’t even started yet. Stupid. Also, why the hell do they play so many damn games? More than thirty. The real crazy part is, that’s just over a third of what professional hockey plays.
Like… what?! And they only have twenty-something players. Who made these rules? That’s asinine. Rough on them, too.
