His fingers circle my cock, and my brain almost short-circuits.
“I thought I was supposed to be the one blowing you.”
“Change of plan. You can blow me later. I need you in my mouth. Stat.”
Only an idiot would refuse that offer. And I’m no idiot.
He takes my silence for agreement and takes me into his mouth. It’s been ages since I gave someone head, and even longer since I was on the receiving end. I can barely remember my last blow job. Or any other blow job, for that matter, when Kolby’s got his lips wrapped around my cock.
He gives it a long, slow suck, humming as he draws back then swallows me again. His mouth is hot and silky and so fucking wet I’m afraid I might come in record time. Which I almost do when my cock hits the back of his throat and I feel it close around me. It’s only by mentally reciting the last ten Calder Trophy winners that I’m able to avoid exploding in his mouth.
My legs wobble. Much more of this, and I really won’t be vertical for much longer. I’ll be a boneless puddle of postorgasmic goo on his institutional carpet.
“Couch,” I manage to grind out through clenched teeth.
He pulls off me with a pop and gives me a gentle push. I fall sideways onto the sofa, my body toppling like a rag doll. He doesn’t waste any time picking right up where he left off, crawling between my legs, grabbing the base of my shaft, and sucking the head between his lips.
The man’s mouth is magic. His tongue is perfection. His fingers are out of this world. He’s the Mozart, the Michelangelo, the freaking Wayne Gretzky of blow jobs, and it doesn’t take as long as I’d like before I’m arching my back and fisting the couch cushions and flooding his mouth, pulsing over and over for what seems like an eternity until I’m spent.
After a long minute to slow my ragged breathing and pull myself together, I open my eyes—when the hell did I close them?—and I’m met with the most beautiful fucking sight in the world. Kolby, kneeling between my legs, his hand on his cock covered with his own release.
“Did you come from sucking me off?”
He ducks his head, but it doesn’t stop me from seeing the color creeping into his cheeks. “Embarrassing, isn’t it?”
I grab him by the shoulders and haul him up so he’s sitting half on the couch and half in my lap. He’s sticky and I’m sweaty but neither one of us seems to care.
“I think it’s kind of flattering. Although I’m disappointed I didn’t get the chance to return the favor.”
He flashes that cheeky grin that turns my brain to mush and snuggles into me, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my neck. “The night is young, Puck Boy. And so is my dick. It has amazing powers of recuperation. Give it a few minutes, and it will be ready for round two.”
My eyes flick to the digital clock on his dresser. He’s right. Not about his dick. I mean, he might be right about his dick. I don’t know. Yet. But he’s right about the time. It’s only eleven. And I don’t have to be at the rink for our game tomorrow until five.
But I have to be careful. The guys at the hockey house will get suspicious if I stay out all night. They’ll have questions. Ones I’m not ready to give them the answers to.
“C’mon.” Kolby nuzzles the hollow at the base of my throat, and I could swear he sniffs me. I must smell like sex and sweat, but he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he burrows closer, his words vibrating against my skin. “We can use the bed this time. I changed the sheets this morning. You know, hope springs eternal and all that jazz.”
I chuckle. Even naked and sex-dazed, the guy can still make me laugh. I like it. A lot. Maybe as much as the fucking. Which scares the crap out of me. I can feel myself starting to fall for him, and I’m not strong enough to fight it. So I give in and snuggle him back. “That sounds like a plan. But I have to leave by one. My roommates will give me shit if I don’t come home tonight.”
His whole body stiffens like I’ve slapped him, and I feel like the biggest douchebag on the damn planet. But the tension is gone as quickly as it came, and he’s back to his old, playful self, leaving a trail of light, teasing kisses down the center of my chest.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs against my breastbone. “We can set an alarm if that makes you feel better.”
I press my lips to the top of his head and inhale. Now I’m the weirdo breathing him in, and I totally get the appeal. I love the way his shampoo smells. Like his body wash, fresh and airy and clean. “Youmake me feel better.”
That seems to relax him even more. He nuzzles me one last time, burying his nose in the patch of hair between my pecs, and springs off me. Then he grabs my hand and pulls me up with him, dragging me across the room in the opposite direction of his bed.
“Where are we going?” I ask, confused. “The bed’s over there.”
“Bathroom.” He opens a door I hadn’t noticed before and gives me a good-natured shove through it. I guess a private bath is another perk of being an RA at Moo U.
He follows me inside and pins me against the sink, reaching around me to grab a hand towel off a rack on the wall. “We need to clean up quick so we have plenty of time to get dirty again.”
12
Kolby
In the history of the most stupid ideas of all time, this one might take the top spot.
