“Like I said, you were quite stiff throughout the game, and I thought that maybe you needed some help relaxing your muscles and working through any tension you might be keeping in your shoulders.”
And then, to my fucking surprise and joy, she straddles my lap and rests her center right on top of my now hardening cock.
She has to feel it. She smiles before picking up some ice and bringing it to my chest.
I suck in air as she moves the ice up my chest and around my pecs.
“Relax, Levi,” she coos as I stare right down her shirt.
Hard to fucking relax when her hips are lightly rocking over my cock, I have the perfect view of her cleavage, and she’s rubbing ice against my chest.
Nothing about this is relaxing.
And she fucking knows it.
She’s had all goddamn day to plan this, and fuck has she outdone herself. This . . . this will make me break.
“God, your chest is incredible,” she says as she brings the ice over my nipples. “You are so impressively large, Levi.”
In what area?
Because right now, I know for a fact I’m getting impressively large in my boxer briefs.
She leans back, completely resting on my cock as she slides the ice down my abdomen, playing with the divots.
“Easily one of the hottest bodies I’ve ever seen.” She lifts off my cock, leans forward, and places one hand on the mattress while the other runs ice over my left pec. She focuses entirely on that area, every once in a while moving the ice over my nipple and causing it to harden.
She sits back down and rubs her center over my length for a mere second before lifting back up and moving over to the other pec.
She continues this torture, slowly and methodically dry-humping me without actually dry-humping me.
It’s one slow stroke after another.
One torturously slow stroke.
It’s so fucking bad that I realize if I don’t do something soon, if I let her take advantage of the situation, I’ll snap, so I grab some ice from the bucket as well, and when she leans forward, I bring the ice to her chest.
She pauses in surprise. “You looked really hot, Wylie, so I thought I’d cool you down as well.”
“Oh, no need. I can do that myself,” she says as she sits back on my cock. Bringing the melting ice straight to her covered breasts, she rubs them a few times, dampening the fabric to where it’s almost see-through.
Fuck . . .
Me . . .
Like a voyeur, I stare.
I watch as the gorgeous nipples harden from the cold of the ice. I watch intently as her head moves side to side and the way she gets lost in the feel of turning herself on.
I revel in the way she slowly rotates her hips over my cock, seeking her own pleasure.
And I nearly drool over the drop of her mouth when I lightly thrust my hips up into her.
Her eyes pop open as she realizes she’s been seeking out her own pleasure. That’s when I grip her hips and lightly guide them over my cock, up and down, up and down, showing her how hard she makes me but also tempting her. Giving her something that will tip her over the edge.
This has to do it. I know her clit is riding my length right now. I can feel how turned on she is. I can see it in her eyes. So I take more ice, slip my hand under her shirt, and as she moves forward to rub over my pecs again, I bring my palm to her breast, where I cup it with the ice.
She lets out a hiss and rotates her hips hard on my cock, causing me to buckle at the waist ever so slightly.
The ice falls from my palm to my stomach, leaving my hand on her bare breast. At this point, I don’t fucking care. I squeeze her, feeling the weight of her in my palm, running my fingers over her hard nipple.
She curls in, her hands no longer gripping my stomach as her hips start moving faster over my cock.
Her eyes squeeze shut, and her fingers dig into my skin as my body lights up, my cock growing impossibly hard with every stroke, every rub.
“Fuck, baby,” I say, unable to hold back, but it must snap her out of it because she pauses.
She stares down at me, and the hunger in her eyes morphs into realization.
“Jesus,” she whispers before she scoots off me, leaving my cock nearly poking past my briefs. She hops off the bed, walks over to her suitcase, and doesn’t even hide it as she takes her vibrator into the bathroom and shuts the door.
I stab my hand through my hair, pulling on the strands just as I hear her vibrator turn on.
And I don’t have to listen intently as she starts moaning because it echoes against the tiles.
“Oh, fuck yes,” she calls out. “Oh my God.”
Not a chance I’m going to withstand this, so I push my briefs down, grab the base of my cock, and start pumping, using my precum as lube.
“God, Levi,” she calls out. “Oh God, I’m going to come.”
I bite on my bottom lip, my mind swirling, my body buzzing, the need for this woman so fucking strong. I squeeze tightly and pump hard, rocking my own goddamn world as Wylie gets off in the bathroom.
“Yes, yes, oh fuck, yes, oh God, I’m coming,” she shouts. “I’m coming, fuck yes. Oh fuck!”
My brain goes dizzy, my legs go numb, and my balls tighten right before my orgasm shoots through my body, and I’m pumping my cock, coming all over my goddamn stomach.
I take a few seconds to catch my breath before I grab a tissue from the desk and wipe up my stomach . . . just as Wylie exits the bathroom.
She walks up to me, pats me on the chest, and says, “Relaxed now?”
Not even a fucking little.
I glancebehind me and spot Wylie talking with Jeremiah, one of the rookies. He sat across from her on the plane, and on occasion, she’s laughed at something he’s said. And let me tell you, Jeremiah is not that fucking funny. I’ve heard him tell a story before—it’s dragged out with barely a punchline. She’s doing this on purpose, and I can tell you right fucking now, I don’t like it.
I don’t like anything at all. I’m in the worst fucking mood as we head back to Vancouver after a long-ass away trip. Thankfully, we won tonight’s game, which means I can take a breather and collect myself, especially after last night. I’m still confused. Did both of us break? Technically, no. She dry-humped me for a few minutes, I grabbed her fucking spectacular breast, and then we both got off, separately.
And now, we haven’t really said anything to each other, other than pleasantries. I don’t think either of us knows where to go from here. But every time I hear her laugh, all I want is to take her somewhere and show her how into her I am.
“You look tense,” Pacey says as he takes a seat in front of me but turns around to face me.
Silas joins him. “Very tense.”
“Can we not do this?” I ask as I open my book of Washington state that I’ve somehow gotten into. Did you know that Washington has the largest ferry fleet in the United States? Found that fascinating. Also, it grows the most apples in the United States. I wonder if Eli knows that. It’s a fun fact he could text Penny.
“Not do what?” Eli asks.
Speak of the devil.
“Posey doesn’t want us bothering him apparently,” Silas says. “Even though he bothers us all the time.”
I study a picture of Mount Olympus. Just over seven thousand feet in elevation. Huh, seems like it would be taller than that.
“Posey isn’t talking to us?” I hear OC say as he comes up from behind. “What did we do wrong?”
“I think we’re annoying him,” Pacey says.
“Even though he annoys us,” Eli adds.
“Well, that doesn’t seem like a reason not to talk to us,” OC says. “We’re friends. We should communicate.”
“One would think, OC,” Pacey says. “But it seems as though there has been a lack of communication lately with our good friend Posey. As Eli pointed out, he’s very quick to flee the bus and get back to his hotel room.”
“And he hasn’t been hanging out with us as of late. The only time we see him is when we’re getting ready for games,” Silas points out.
“And there isn’t an ounce of interest in our personal lives when usually there is,” Eli continues.
OC leans in close and says, “And despite the write-up I did about Grace and me, I haven’t heard a response.”
That causes me to lift my head and pull away from my fascinating yet informative Washington book. “I didn’t get a fucking write-up.”
“Ha.” OC points at me. “That’s because I didn’t turn it in yet, but I got you to look up.”
I look him dead in the eyes and say, “That’s going to be a mark against your name, good luck erasing it.”
“Be serious for a second,” Pacey says. “Something’s going on and you’re not telling us about it. For fuck’s sake, you’re reading a book, and that’s very unlike you.”
From the back, I hear Wylie laugh again, and it nearly makes me crumple this delectable book in my palm.
“I can read books,” I defend. “Halsey does it all the time, and you don’t say shit to him.”
“Because he’s been doing it for a long time, and he reads fiction. You’re reading a book about Washington.”