Page 136 of Wrong Pucking Player

I can’t just ‘not’ touch myself when he’s looking at me with such intensity.

That stare.

That voice.

Knowing his hand is around his shaft, hard and dripping with precum.

“Fuck.” He curses with a hiss. “Hearing you beg is as lethal as watching you quiver like that,” he grunts. “Lift my jersey up that curvy body of yours.”

I’m ready to take the whole thing off, but he quickly adds, “Only up to your shoulders, Kenzie. I still want that cloaking your sexy body when we’re done.”

God.

This man thinks I’m sexy.

Does he like my curves?

He really doesn’t think I’m muscular or fat?

There’s no time to think about all these things because my body is on autopilot, completing the task requested of me.

Armani’s eyes darken tremendously, descending to every inch of my body like he’s memorizing it all.

A picture would last longer…

That’s exactly what I do next as I inch the camera high enough just to get the perfect snapshot.

I’ve lost my mind.

Officially lost every pinch of intelligence.

All thanks to this man.

Oscar Armani really is my end.

I’m happy with such an ending.

“Did you just take a photo, Andrews?” He’s breathless as he asks the primary question.

“I did.” No lies were told. “Only… for you. If… if you like curvy, muscular—”

“I adore the sight of your body as much as I do watching a full auditorium cheer me on after a save during a hockey game, Kenzie,” he growls. “The heavens took their sweet time carving you, Kenzie, knowing well I’d want the perfect queen by my side.”

Every insecurity goes out the window at his words.

“I never thought anything could override my love for hockey, Andrews,” his husky voice can’t possibly get quieter, yet it does when his next words are like a confession. “You may just be it.”

My heart can’t swell any bigger than it has.

“Now, let me see that hand glide between those plump breasts, along your abs, and right between those spread-out thick thighs.”

My pussy is pulsing with every second as I let my hand glide between my breasts and down the front side of my body. Instead of rushing, I drag it on just a little bit to enhance the sexual tension we’re building.

Spreading my legs just a little more does wonders in showing my dripping wet pussy. My arousal is making a pool of juices on the cushion of the couch, and the ray of light that illuminates my cunt has to be a paid supporting actor because the end result looks like I’ve been transported into a porn movie.

Man, my pussy looks good.

“God, Andrews.” I’ve never heard so much strain in his voice. “You’re killing me.”

---