Page 22 of Overtime Goal
That was all it took. A strangled groan caught in my throat as I arched off the bed and launched a stream of cum into the air. He changed the angle, and I striped my chest and abs while I cried out. After a second, he put his free hand over my mouth, trying to muffle my cries. I thrashed, coming so hard I almost blacked out. My body was still jerking when I fell onto my back again, moaning softly.
While I tried to catch my breath, Logan hummed. “Goddamn. I’ve never seen anyone come like that before. I almost shot just from watching you.”
I pried my eyes open. “You’re the one who did it to me.”
“Fuck. And this…” He pointed at the mess I’d made, then swiped a finger through it and sucked it off his finger. “Fucking delicious.”
“I’d like to see you come too,” I said. “Should I do you?”
“No need. You can just watch.”
He got to his knees, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off his cock. It was so swollen that it was a little scary. After scooping some cum off my abs, he started jerking himself, looking into my eyes while he worked.
His mouth hung open, and his body glistened with sweat. When he smiled, I wanted to lick every single line around his eyes. Logan was stunning. He was all man, and it was hard to believe he wanted to do this with me. Jesus, I hoped we could keep it going every day.
He grunted words between quick breaths. “Fuck, Ade… Like you… so much.”
“Come for me,” I whispered. “Shoot it on me.”
“Fuck yeah. Oh, shit!” He shot thick ropes over me, his cum mixing with what was left of mine to form pools of white goo.
When he collapsed beside me, I was so wound up I could’ve probably come again. Logan unloading all over me was one of the hottest sights of my life. Now he lay there grinning, his chest heaving like he’d played the hardest shift of his career. I kissed him, sliding my tongue deep into his mouth until he sucked it. He placed a hand on my cheek. It was sticky, and although I didn’t know if it was his cum or mine, I didn’t care. It was filthy and perfect and hot as hell.
After a while, he got a wet towel from the bathroom and cleaned us up, then wrapped me in a big hug. For the first time in my life, I felt treasured. The rush was so new and felt so good that I nearly cried. As mind-blowing as the sex had been, feeling safe in Logan’s arms was even better.
I jerked awake, blinking into the darkness while my heart pounded. We were in Detroit, not LA, and we’d had sex a month ago, not tonight.
The dream had been so vivid it took a moment to realize I was on my stomach with my hips pressed into the mattress, moving without meaning to. Everything had felt so real, my body hadn’t known the difference. Reluctantly, I rolled onto my side and looked at the clock: 4:27 a.m.
My dick throbbed, and I couldn’t keep my hand off it. Logan lay on his side, back to me. It would’ve been so easy to slide up against him, kiss the back of his neck, and see what happened. Since we’d agreed things could happen again, he probably wouldn’t push me away.
But not tonight. We needed time to let it all settle, so I slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom. The dream had been so realistic it took less than a minute to jack off. I was back under the covers in no time at all.
Logan hadn’t moved. In the quiet darkness, I traced a finger through the air right above his arm and shoulder, close enough to feel his heat but still not touch. I needed him again, and the only question was how long I could wait.
10/
logan
The endof the regular season was in sight, but the schedule didn’t let up when we returned to Buffalo. Over the next seven days, we hosted New York, Nashville, Winnipeg, and Tampa, racking up four wins in four games. It was a stretch that should’ve left me thrilled and satisfied.
But there were other things on my mind, so most nights, I lay awake staring at the ceiling of my darkened room, thinking about Riley. Things between us had settled since our talk in Chicago. The tension from his LA outburst and the fragile peace we’d struck afterward had given way to something softer. Riles and I were good again. We laughed at the same dumb jokes, ate shitty takeout in my kitchen, and watched movies we never finished because one of us fell asleep halfway through.
He stayed over more nights than not, saying the nightmares weren’t as bad when I was there. Most of the time, he slept in the guest room, and when a bad dream struck, I’d run across the hall and wake him. I’d play with his hair and whisper reassurances until he stopped shaking. He always asked me to stay, and when I crawled in beside him, he’d roll toward me and curl in like he needed shelter. The next morning, I’d wake to find him on thefar edge of the bed. Once, he’d already left. It was six-thirty in the morning, and he’d left a note saying he had to run errands.
Nothing sexual happened between us, but the tension could set me on fire. His eyes, full of longing, would lock on mine and give me goose bumps. Sometimes, his gaze dropped to my mouth. His tongue would dart out to wet his lips, and a dull ache would settle in my chest because I wanted to kiss him so much.
He wanted me, but not in the same way I wanted him. And he liked me, maybe even more than that, but not enough. It wasn’t what I was foolishly hoping for. For him, it was a physical need, and I thought I knew why.
Riley hadn’t been with a woman since that night in LA, at least not that I knew of. But thinking he could be, and that he would be again, haunted me more than I wanted to admit. It was really none of my business. Since there was no commitment between us, he had every right to see whoever he wanted. We were friends, and that was all. Friends who looked at each other like we were dying of thirst. Friends who shared a bed. Friends who touched like it meant something and pretended it didn’t.
Maybe he was bi, but he’d never admit it. Even if he wanted me in some secret part of himself, it didn’t change the truth. Neither of us could be what the other needed.
I had to come to terms with this. No matter how many times he curled into me like I was home, regardless of how badly my body ached for his, and despite how fiercely I wanted something real with him, we would never want the same things.
After the Warriors made a quick trip to Columbus, it was time to host Toronto for the last game of the regular season. The Beaverscame to town with a score to settle. Our rivalry had always been intense, but they’d dominated us for years. The last two seasons had been different, though. We’d shown them up, and now they were determined to make us pay.
On game night, the arena was packed. Riles and I both scored, and by the third period, the Warriors were up 7–6. Unfortunately, the Beavers weren’t about to give up. They held us in our zone, peppering Gabe with a barrage of fast, relentless shots. He stood on his head, but if they kept it up, it would only be a matter of time until they scored. We were hanging on by a thread.
