Page 69
“Vaughn, Vaughn,” he panted between kisses. “I need, I can’t, I—”
I shushed him and murmured encouragement, telling him how beautiful and good he was until I finally said the magic words. “Come for me, sweetheart.”
He was like a puppet with cut strings, letting go completely and falling apart under me as the wet warmth of his release filled my fist and streaked his abs. As the sound of his gasp filled the room.
Why the fuck was this so hot? Was it the conquest? The fact that he was so damned prickly most of the time but a complete whore for me in bed? Was it his submission? Why the hell did I feel like my entire soul was being wrenched from me at just the sound of him coming?
I grunted and pressed my face into his neck to keep from saying anything stupid as my orgasm completely overtook me, whiting out my thoughts and emptying my balls all over his lower belly.
“Fuck,” was the only sound that came out of me, ragged and worn after being held back with all of my fucking might until I just couldn’t hold it any longer. “Fuck.”
His body shook with aftershocks as two more spurts of cum escaped the tip of his softening cock and landed in the hair below his belly button. I used the pad of my thumb to rub it into his skin, watching it smear between his skin and mine.
“Holy shit,” he whispered. “Holy fucking fuck.”
I couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Yeah.”
Bett’s entire face was flushed and damp with sweat, the edges of his dirty-blond hair darker than the rest. His lips were cherry red and plump from my kisses, and his eyes still seemed a little glazed.
I expected him to freak out at any moment. Instead, he turned and curled into me, hiding his face against my shoulder. “Please don’t go yet.”
I pressed a kiss against the top of his head without thinking about it, realizing afterward how ridiculous it was. He wasn’t my sweetheart. We weren’t actually…
Well. I mean. We’d agreed to be exclusive. For sex. For safety and health reasons, probably.
I mumbled at him to hold still while I got something to clean up and extricated myself from the bed, moving to the sink and dampening a cloth before returning. My plan was to wash us both off and move to my own bed.
But then I looked at his face to make sure he was okay with me wiping him down. He looked almost… lost. Worried. Or maybe like he was tensing in preparation for a strike. Not a physical one. I didn’t think he was afraid of me that way, but an emotional one.
I thought back to the times I’d taunted him. Made fun of him. Bullied him.
“Uh, you okay?” I asked while carefully cleaning the cum off his stomach and soft cock.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and then his eyes flicked away to land on the wall behind me. “Yeah, I mean. Yeah. ’Course.”
Here’s the thing: he wasn’t.
He so fucking clearly wasn’t okay, and the knowledge of that sat in my gut like a pile of bricks.
I thought back to the moment earlier when he’d admitted that he wanted to be my baby.
At first, I’d assumed he’d just meant in bed. But what if…
“Move over,” I said, tossing the cloth over toward the sink and nudging back into the bed next to him. No need to overthink it. I’d just snuggle for a few minutes and then return to my own bed. Be less of an asshole that way.
Bett’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but then his cheeks pinked up, and his eyes brightened. “Okay.”
I manhandled him until my arm was under his neck and his head was on my shoulder. “Talk to me.”
“About what?”
I shrugged, enjoying the weight of him on my body, heavier than the women I slept with and, for that matter, most of the men. “Anything.”
“Um…”
“Tell me again why your coach wore out your legs midseason?”
After yesterday, I’d done a Google search on fatigue drills for kickers. I’d already known what they were, but the search had confirmed they weren’t normal midseason. Too much risk involved.
