Page 54 of Cherry Picking
Inside.
Every inch of him.
He isn’t wrong.
The blissed out way he whimpers and whines when he’s impaled on my cock are a thing of obsession. Griff is confident and loud, and that translates to the bedroom. But he also innately seeks pleasure. He loves to give it, sure, but if he can taunt me into going at him hard, he’ll do it in a heartbeat.
When he looks up at me, eyes glistening with tears from each powerful thrust, I give him a grin, and then I spit right on his chest.
His eyes widen, flutter, and roll back in his head.
Game over.
Milky white streams coat and leak from the lace material covering him, cock barely visibly twitching with how tight it’s held.
I don’t acknowledge it. I don’t stop. I fuck his oversensitive hole until my own dick pulses with the warning of release.
I drop his legs and pull out, towering over him while my cum and spit mix together on his chest. Once every drop paints his skin, I lean down and swipe my tongue through the mess, offering it to him when his eyes finally open.
Griff smiles, blissed out and satiated, and opens up for my cum-coated tongue to dance with his.
When I collapse beside him on the mattress, sore and spent, all of the endorphins in my brain go off like a broken fireworks display. Griff’s laugh is a throaty, satisfied sound, and he rolls onto his side to drape an arm around my middle.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you these last few weeks, but if you keep fucking me like this, you’ll never get rid of me.”
His smile covers my mouth, and I rest a hand on his nape as our tongues lazily stroke one another.
I didn’t lie to him that night; I want him—us—more than anything, and that’s what scares me. I’m not worried about losing the team or getting back to the sport I’ve spent most of my life dedicated to.
What I want is to focus on where we go from here. What a future for us looks like. How to get there.
It’s terrifying.
All my life hockey has held this huge part of me that needed to be fulfilled. In a blink it’s as if my world and priorities have flipped upside down.
If I’m not a player, how do we fit together?
When I’m out of excuses to slip into his bed on the road, how do I face my teammates and tell them that we’ve had this secret two-year love affair?
Griffin made the house husband joke before, but after hearing what Coach had to say about the Nashville team, I’m not sure if I could sit here day by day and watch his career move forward while mine dies in the water.
I don’t want to resent him; hockey and I were coming to an end anyway, but this whole thing started as a fun exploration.
Now, it’s so much more than we ever planned for.
I don’t know how to keep it alive and myself afloat at the same time.
CHAPTER 14
GRIFFIN
Temporary backup goaliefor the Nashville Rippers.
Even if I don’t see a lick of ice time, that doesn’t phase the excitement racing through my veins like a bottle rocket.
The coach wants me to sit in on a practice this afternoon to get a feel for the team before tomorrow’s game on the chance that they need me.
I don’t know if that’s a common courtesy when calling players up or if it has to do with the goalie mojo no one wants to fuck up, but I’ll take any opportunity given to me to play for an NAPH team.
