Page 175 of Wrong Pucking Player

He pulls out only to rub his length along my pussy a few more times before he’s grunting in Russian and letting out a deep groan of relief.

“Only you give me the best climaxes, Andrews.” He lets out a ragged sigh while nestling his chin on my shoulder. “I bet you can take my cock like a fucking champ.”

“I can,” I barely get the word out because I’m still catching my breath. I’m actually winded.

“Did you like that?” he inquires sleepily.

“Fuck yes,” I confess with a sigh. “Fuck… I needed that. So damn bad…”

I mean it.

The last few days leading to today have been rather stressful. This initiative is a big deal, and with how it’s been trending on social media, is beginning to make me fear how I’ll do performance-wise.

Even if it’s an internship, I worry about my future ahead. If I don’t perform well during this season, I won’t secure a position as a team nurse in the future. It’s not necessarily guaranteed, and I’m aware of that, but seeing the TikTokers talk about Mikayla and how secure her future is with the Strattonville Vipers as their team nurse kindles a prick of anxiety.

I hate comparing myself to anyone, especially my best friend, but it seems as though everyone is doing it for me instead, leaving me feeling incompetent.

Leaving me to question my worth in this field I’ve worked tirelessly to enter.

The stress, anxiety, and uncertainty of it all, matched with the Pincer Blades signing their contracts in an hour or so, was making me into a snappy bitch.

As for Armani, he was just as grumpy and irritable, especially with me doing anything to rile him up since this morning.

That’s why morning locker room sex seems rather appropriate to let the tension out.

Maybe?

“You and me both,” Armani mutters.

“You still grumpy?”

“Hmmmm.” He thinks about it. “To a lesser degree,” he admits. “Not with you, though.”

“Aww. Getting your way made you forgive me for being a bitch,” I summarize.

“A tolerable bitch,” he corrects.

“Hey. I didn’t want you to actually agree.”

“Sure.” He kisses my cheek before moving back. Now that he’s not pinning me to the tiled shower wall, I can stretch my back a little.

“I’m going to so feel this tomorrow.”

“You sound like an old woman,” he groans, but I’m surprised to feel his hands on my shoulders. “Where does it hurt?”

“Huh?” Instead of turning around, I just lean my head back far enough to see him peering down at me.

“Where does it hurt?”

“Oscar Armani. Are you actually going to offer to give me a massage at seven thirty in the morning?”

“I can leave.” He’s turning around, but I hug him from behind before he can abandon me.

“No! Don’t. Wait. Wait. Wait. Let me make sure no one will come in!”

“I don’t care if someone comes in.” He really sounds like he doesn’t.

“Armani! If one of the staff catches you, you’ll get in trouble! You can be charged with harassment or being a stalker or something.”

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