Tears prick behind my flickering eyelids as his cock hits the back of my throat over and over at speed.
“Edith?” The question comes out on a grunt. “Are you okay?”
The fact that he has the mental capacity to ask me that question means I’m not doing a good enough job at taking his mind off things. I want him to be so gone he can’t form words, so out of it that his legs tremble and his hands shake.
I flex my hand around his sac again, and suck harder, faster, deeper, determined to make him lose his fucking mind.
I might not be his first blow job, but I’m sure as hell going to make it the best he’s ever had.
Humming around his cock seems to shift gears, and his hips buck sporadically instead of in a rhythmic pattern. He curls his fingers into my hair, he wraps it around his hand, the bite of pain making me moan around him.
“Fuck, Edith.”
My put together hockey player is losing control, and it’s so fucking enthralling that I want to push him even further, see how much I can make him fall apart.
“Edith, I’m going to come.”
I cover his half-open mouth with my hand, signaling him to shut the fuck up and enjoy the ride.
It’s a matter of seconds before warm jets of salty cum spray into my mouth as he roars through his release.
I did that.
My guy is a feral animal consumed by lust and need, and I made him fall apart with my mouth and hand. Feels pretty good.
His entire body softens as the last trickle of cum meets my tongue. Swallowing every drop, I stroke the inside of his thigh to reassure him I’m okay while he settles. I rest my head on his lap, and his fingers trace the side of my face as we both catch our breath.
Part of me still waits for the ick to set in. The guilt of stepping over that line with my best friend. But the rest of me preens and purrs like a fucking cat knowing that this soft and sated Apollo is because of me. I can’t wait to do it all over again, to get rid of this fucking cast, to claim him as mine.
Mine.
The more I look back over our time together, the furtive touches, the tenderness and care, the easygoing nature of our friendship, it’s becoming more and more apparent we’ve been in a relationship this whole time, just without the romance and sexy times.
Now we’ve cracked that door open, things feel complete, right, and the lump of emotion in my throat reminds me that I’ve spent the past few years searching for the perfect partner only to realize he’s been here all along.
CHAPTER25
Apollo
(MARCH 25TH – DAY 8 POST OP)
It’s the Frozen Four quarter finals against Massachusetts. If we win tonight, we play Penn State in the semis in two days, and for the first time in a long time, we might actually have a chance at beating those fuckers.
My fire is back.
Maybe it’s ’cause my girl sucked every ounce of negative energy from my dick like it was a fucking straw last night. If we win, she and I may need to discuss pre-game blow jobs going forward. Like, forevermore. Somehow I think she’d be down for that. My fierce little flame definitely enjoyed making my eyes roll back in my head.
She didn’t push for me to talk, she didn’t guilt me into sharing, she accepted that I wasn’t ready... and then gave the best head I’ve ever had in my whole fucking life.
I’m not admitting to the rest of the guys that my girl’s tongue is the reason I’ve plucked my head out of my ass, but she definitely gave me a beat of clarity, repose, then subjected me to murder documentaries. She’s spending too much time with Eloise. Or Penelope. Or both. But she’s happier and that’s all I care about.
I’m reluctant to acknowledge it in case I jinx it, but we’re halfway through the second period of this game and everything feelsright. The crowd is in full voice. Playoff hockey is my favorite kind of hockey. There’s something about the balance between speed and gritty, hard-hitting plays, and the crackle of excited anticipation in the stands.
Scott passes the puck through to center ice, Justin taps it to the outside where I pick it up and take the quick shot. Raffi’s rebound attempt is wide of the target. Massachusetts defense collectively jabs a little poke check, but they don’t get a shot away.
Another shot from Raffi, another rebound, off the back of the net. I thought it was in, so did the fans, so did Raffi and Justin, but their goalie got enough of it to stop it.Puta.
My legs burn, sweat’s trickling down my temples and into my ass crack, and all I can think of is scoring formi princesa.
