Page 85 of Imperfect Player

Everly: Ethan!

Me: Come on, please, sunshine. Tell me what you would do to me if you were here.

Everly: No.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I focus. I imagine. I play pretend with the few things my eyes know and my hands remember, and I focus on all of it. All of her.

The sound of a text coming through causes my eyes to fly open.

Everly: I would take you in my mouth. Suck your cock until my cheeks are hollowed out and you’re hitting the back of my throat.

Me: Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Yes.

Everly: I would touch my pussy while your cock was buried deep in my throat.

Me: So good, baby.

My hand pumps feverishly as I re-read the words that she sent me.

Me: Don’t stop, I’m so close. Is your pussy wet?

Everly: Yes.

Me: Touch yourself. Slide your fingers inside.

Me: Are you doing it?

Everly: Yes.

Me: Tell me.

Everly: I’m fingering myself, sliding them in and out at the same time your cock slides between my lips. Faster, harder. Oh God, I need to come.

Me: Do it. Come for me, Everly.

The words are enough to have me grunting out my own orgasm, cum running down my hand.

Me: Thanks, baby. That was just what I needed.

Everly: Are you sure you’re okay?

Drunk and drained, emotionally and physically, I set my phone down and close my eyes. Dick still hanging out, I fall asleep in the bed.

“Wake up, asshole,” Maddox’s voice booms through the door.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I shout back, stuffing my dick back into my pants before opening the door.

“We need to get moving,” he says. His eyes scan over me, searching for a sign that I’m drunk or hungover.

A sign besides the fact that I overslept. Again.

He shakes his head, analysis of my current state already complete.

“Don’t go judging. I was just up late, having phone sex with Everly,” I taunt him as I slide into a pair of shorts.

I can shower and do the shit I need to when we get to the stadium. At least if I go in like this, I won’t be late, and hopefully Coach Rick won’t be none the wiser.

The minute we get to the stadium, I hit the showers. I try to wash away the smell of whiskey and exhaustion, but I’m not that successful. Enough to not call too much attention to myself. Not from anyone but Maddox, at least. As promised, he’s keeping an eye on me. Too close of an eye if you ask me. The guy is practically up my ass even as the game is about to begin.

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