Page 89 of Whistle

Just as his dick started to pulse, I let go, letting it slap against his belly. Frustrated, he let out a whine, the blue of his eyes turning into flames.

“Come on my cock,” I told him, slowing my strokes.

“I can’t.”

“You can. Let go and make a mess for me, sweetheart.”

After a few more steady strokes, his eyes widened and shot to mine. “I got you. Come for Daddy,” I whispered.

He threw his head back, showing off the long column of his throat as his dick spurted ropes of milky white cum across his stomach and chest. His body stayed tight, the orgasm riding him hard as he twitched and gasped for long moments.

Spent, he collapsed back onto the bed, chest heaving. Unexpectedly, he reached for me, grappling for my shoulders and then looping his arms around my neck. His breathing hitched against my neck, and I slid an arm beneath him, holding him tight against me.

I could feel the thundering of his heart, the quiver in his limbs, but his hug was strong. Intense tenderness coupled with the near peak of arousal had me pressing kisses across his shoulder as I groaned, the tension in my heart and body releasing at once. The orgasm was so powerful that my vision went dark, and I clung to Bodhi just as strongly as he clung to me while I rode out the hurricane this man unleashed beneath my skin.

Even after I was empty, aftershocks kept me in place until, finally, we collapsed in a heap of entwined arms and legs, wrapped so tight it was as if we’d become a single person.

Not long after, my alarm trilled through the room, startling the hazy afterglow. I rolled off him to silence the sound and discard the condom before dropping back onto the mattress with a sigh.

Tentative fingers brushed my side, and I turned my head to see him watching me. I blinked lazily, a slow drag of my lashes to draw out the view he made. Pliant and sweet with flushed cheeks and the scent of sex on his skin.

I rolled, brushing my knuckles over his cheek, barely catching the words before they fell right off my lips.

I love you.

No. Oh no, no, no.

The simple way my heart declared it was matched by the violence of my brain trying to deny it.

“Emmett?” Bodhi questioned, wariness creeping into his eyes.

I thought of how he’d smiled earlier and became irrationally angry that this look replaced it. I didn’t want him to be wary of me. Of us.

How could he not be when you are too?

“We’re gonna be late to practice.” I was gruff.

“I’m not going,” he said, rolling to stretch out like a cat.

“You miss any more practices and you’re off the team,” I declared, getting out of bed. I felt kinda stupid making demands with my dick hanging out, but I wouldn’t back down. Rules are rules, and I had broken a shocking amount because of him.

He made a rude noise. “Like I care.”

I grabbed his ankle and hauled him across the king-size bed until his legs hung over the edge. With him flat on his back, I leaned down, caging him with my arms and chest. “You might not care. But I do,” I ground out. Then softer, “I do.”

His lips pressed in, eyes darting away timidly. “Can I use your shower?”

The image of him wet and soapy in my shower consumed me, but my brain tried to deny it. Its success rate matched the denial of my love confession.

The success rate? Zero.

I nodded once. “We’re leaving in twenty.”

“Okay.” He conceded.

My eyes searched his face, half suspicious and half because of his beauty. “Did you just agree?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “You give good dick.”

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