His finger traces down my jawline. I think it’s his thumb, and it lands right under my bottom lip. Darius moves closer, his face only inches from mine.
“If you don’t stop talking, Harry, I’ll have no choice but to kiss you to shut you up.”
I open my mouth, maybe to protest or call his bluff bysaying more, but nothing comes out because Darius’s lips, full and soft, still tasting like peppermint toothpaste, brush mine. He’s tentative, gentle, even, and a soft moan escapes my mouth because never in a million years did I expect my impulse decision to chaperone the fifth-grade boys’ hockey team would lead me to kiss a naked Coach Hill in an only-one-bed situation.
Or maybe, deep down, a part of me hoped for this. I must have seen the parallels between his behavior and Victor’s with Rebecca—not consciously, but on some level. My head spins, but before I’m able to continue overthinking how I ended up in a hotel bed with him, Darius pauses the kiss and asks, “Is this okay?”
“So now you’re concerned with my feelings?”
He nods, and fuck my life.
“Yes, Harry. Consent is hot. Don’t they teach that in all those books you read?”
I open my mouth to reply, but—I’m speechless. Please let his mouth find its way back to mine and never stop kissing me. I grab the back of his head, and the peach fuzz of his buzz cut tickles my palm as I pull him in, deepening the kiss and poking my tongue at his lips.
Darius rolls on top of me, his hot skin still damp from the shower. Or maybe he’s sweating. Either way, my fingers find his strong back muscles and hold him in place as his tongue slips into my mouth with a groan. He fucking groans and something inside me melts.
And then I realize—Darius is rock hard, and he’s trying to hold his midsection off me to avoid me feeling the full force of what he’s packing.
“Darius?” We’re still kissing, and the word tumbles into his mouth. He pulls back and searches my face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just . . .” I reach down and grab his waist, pulling him down. His stiffness grinds into mine, confined under my pajamas. When I notice his bottom lip quivering, I suck it into my mouth. “There.”
“You sure?”
Yup, he’s right. Asking for consent is hot. My hand moves between us, his thick cock full in my hand, the heat sending a wave of desire to my core, and I gently squeeze, allowing my fingers to make out what I had only glimpsed before. The tip is sticky with precum, and I’m pretty confident there’s nothing more I want than to have it filling my mouth. Soon.
“Okay. Mr. Peterson is sure,” he says, and his tongue resumes excavating the inside of my mouth.
Darius ruts into my palm, and my other hand joins the first, massaging his lower stomach, feeling the happy trail that leads from his belly button to his rather full bush. I’m imagining how far I can deep-throat Coach Hill when everything suddenly stops, and he rolls off me.
Before I can ask what’s wrong, he says, “Pajamas off.”
“Oh, he’s bossy now.”
“Hey, I’m the coach.”
“Yes, sir.”
I quickly push my pants down, my dick springing up against my stomach, and as I attempt to remove them completely, Darius grabs the waistband and yanks.
“Okay.” I take his hand, wanting him to return to kissing me, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he pulls at thehem of my pajama shirt, and taking his cue, I lift my arms so he can remove it. When I’m completely naked, he finally returns, and the feeling of his heated skin on mine electrifies my senses. If this is my reward for attending a hockey game, I might just have to start scouting for a Zamboni of my own.
“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.” His lips are close to mine, and each word sends his hot breath over my face.
“Do what?”
“This.” He kisses me softly.
His fingers wrap around my shoulders, squeezing.
“And this.” A soft thrust of his cock on mine.
Darius can’t be more than ten pounds heavier than I am, but his weight on me makes my blood boil. He brushes his hands through my hair, getting lost in the curls as our tongues resume playing the only sport I know well—tonsil hockey.
I’m doing my best to stroke him between our bodies, but it’s not easy. When he pulls back to catch his breath, heeding his advice to the team, I take my shot.
