A command. That one word has me instantly relaxing. Like he has some sort of power over me. And he notices.
“Good job, Sunshine.”
Does my chest puff out in pride? Why yes, yes, it does. Because Jed thinks I did a good job. I might be frustrating him out on the field, but at least here I can impress him.
He keeps circling, and I have to consciously work to keep my body relaxed. My nerves are lighting up, and I amhere for him playing with my hole. But knowing what’s coming is still making it a struggle to not tighten up. I’m doing a pretty damn good job of staying loose until he slips a finger inside.
Jed stills. “Breathe in. Then let all the tension out on the exhale.”
I do exactly as he says, and he slowly slides his finger in farther.
“You still good?” he asks.
“Yes.” It’s weird. The sensations rushing through me are a clear signal I like this. My cock is leaking a ridiculous amount all over my stomach. But my brain is still sending off warning signals that this is an exit-only area.
Fortunately, Jed knows what he’s doing. Knows exactly what I need. He leans forward, and the head of my cock disappears between his lips. My gasp echoes through the room. Nothing in this life could have prepared me for the sight of Jed Stone Jr. swallowing my dick. Lips stretched wide around me, dark brown eyes locked on mine, nothing but filthy promises reflecting back at me.
He sucks hard, and my back bows while my hips press down on his finger. He’s watching my every reaction, steady, focused. In control on the field and in the bedroom. I think I like a man in charge.
He pops off and adds more lube to his fingers, then pushes in deeper, gently massaging around until—my muscles whip tight and a toe-curling streak of pure fucking bliss shoots through me. His finger backs off, and I collapse back into the bed panting.
“Holy shit.”
His grin is wicked. “Sunshine, meet your prostate.”
“Hi, prostate. Very nice to meet you,” I say weakly.
Those deep-brown eyes dance, and I decide then andthere that my life goal is to make that look happen as often as I can while I’m around this man. Jed Stone Jr. is fucking radiant when he’s happy. And I have the feeling he’s not happy nearly enough.
He runs his lips over my shaft, and my knees pull up. “Fuck me.” I’m an oversensitive mess.
His groan vibrates against my cock, and that doesn’t help the neediness growing inside me. At. All.
His lips and tongue tease softly over me. “I fucking wish, Sunshine.” His finger skates over my prostate, and I nearly jump out of my skin. God, he has such thick fingers. “But this will have to do.”
And then he makes good on his promise from earlier. He thrusts his finger inside me, then curls it so it lands right on my prostate every time. My hands fly to his head, dive into his dark hair, and latch on. His teeth nip and graze over my hip bone as he destroys me with his fingers. He’s slipped another in, and I’m so bliss-drunk I didn’t even realize when that happened. It’s like I’ve just stuck a fork in an electrical socket. The pleasure is so intense, so consuming, I’m close to bursting from it. This man has me levitating.
I squirm beneath him; any self-consciousness I may have been feeling has fled the building. I push down on his fingers, trying to drive him deeper. Harder. Something.
“Dammit, Sunshine.” His voice is so low it’s wild. Wild and tinged with pain. “Look at you giving yourself up to me. You’re so good, letting me play with you.”
And, oh, does he. His fingers still in their thrusting and he massages that sensitive spot inside me. I swear I think I see God. The Great Bambino is smiling down at me from the heavens.
“I should have known you’d give this one-hundred-and-ten percent just like you do on the field,” he rasps. “You don’t do anything by halves.”
“Nope—urgh. I play to win. Fu-uckkkkk.” My words end on a moan. “And am I fucking winning? I swear to God, everyone needs fingers up their ass at some point in their life. Maybe then everyone would be happier. More finger-fucking equals less hate and more love.”
I wriggle beneath him. I need more. My dick is so angry it’s screaming. I don’t think I’ve ever been so hard in my life. But Jed keeps denying me.
“Please touch me,” I whine. “This has to be bad for my health.” I try to reach between us, but the motherfuckerbitesme!
“Did you just bite me?”
“That’s not for you,” he growls. “I call the shots here. Hands above your head where I can see them.”
I suck in a sharp breath, and I almost nut then and there. I do as I’m told and fist the pillow beneath my head.
“Knees to your chest, beautiful.”
