I pump harder, his cock twitches in my hand. I don’t want him to have to get out of bed to clean up so I put his head in my mouth and suck him through his release. When the jets of cum hit my tongue, his fingers bite into my shoulder as he grips me.
“Fuck, Penelope. Fuck.”
There’s a lot of cum. Like, a lot. I don’t know if it’s cumulative, and he’s been saving it all up, or if he just has a lot of cum every time.
He goes soft almost instantly, so I let my grip loosen around his shaft as I tickle his tip with my tongue to collect every drop.
I don’t generally like to swallow, but I don’t want to move either, so I do.
Tate’s breathing’s already settling, becoming deeper with each inhale. “Thank you.” At least I think that’s what he says. He pulls me onto his chest, and it takes all of thirty seconds for him to pass out.
I knew what I was signing up for, not getting my own orgasm, and I’m okay with that. That’s not to say my nipples couldn’t cut glass right now, or that my panties aren't soaked under my nightgown, but maybe when he’s been asleep for a while I’ll slip into the bathroom and finish myself off to take away some of this pressure. Because lord knows, I can’t last until morning.
When his soft snores level out into a rhythm, I check my phone. There’s messages from both Oliver and Karlya on the screen.
Spare Parts: Dad says he saw you at the hospital visiting Tate Myers. Is it true? Has a hockey player stolen your heart? Am I the last to know? Come on, Sissy. Tell me everything. I promise I won’t make fun of you.
Spare Parts: *much fun of you.
I shake my head, fighting a grin. I hate him.
Karlya’s message is equally eye-roll-worthy, it’s not checking up on Tate, or me, it’s asking if we’ve fucked yet.
She has such a way with words.
Me: No, darling cousin of mine, we haven’t gone to pound town yet. But I have spent some time with his teammates. I think you’d like them.
Karlya: Are they single?
Me: Actually, I don’t think they are. Maybe Artemis? They’re good guys though. You’d like them.
I don’t need her to know I’ve already slept with Tate, not yet at least.
And I haven’t been around them all that long, but even I’ve been able to work out that Scott is holding a candle for the oldest de la Peña sibling. I have no idea if everyone knows, like, is it the worst kept secret in the Raccoon’s world? I haven’t even mentioned it to Eloise, because if no one’s noticed, I’m not going to be the one to spill the tea.
Me: Hey Copycat, how’s Wisconsin? I see you’ve won your last three games. Not bad at all.
Spare Parts: Firstly, I was born first, so that makes you the copycat.
Spare Parts: Secondly, are you just going to avoid the whole Tate thing?
The man himself sighs in bed beside me like he doesn’t like the idea of me avoiding him.
Me: It’s new. I’ve avoided him like the plague because of... well, you know why.
Spare Parts: But you tripped and fell over something and your tongue fell into his mouth?
Spare Parts: Ew. Never mind. I don’t need details.
Spare Parts: Ew.
Me: LOL! No. We became kind of frenemies I guess? And then he got hurt. He’s in rough shape.
Spare Parts: Need to talk?
Me: Can’t, he’s asleep next to me, and I don’t want to wake him up.
Spare Parts: That’s a mental image I need bleach for.
