Chapter 145
Water pounded my back as I worked him with my mouth, sucking
greedy, sloppy, wet. He jolted when I gagged around him, the sound
echoing, filthy and perfect. The more noise I made, the harder he
pulsed. My fingers slid behind him, teasing, pushing into his tight
heat until he cried out, his whole body trembling.
“Sir–I’m close-” His voice cracked, needy, sure I’d edge him, drag it
out.
Not tonight. Tonight, I doubled down, shoving a third finger into him,
fondling his balls with my free hand, hollowing my cheeks and taking
him deeper until his thighs shook.
“Ahh, fuck!” His whole body spasmed. Hot cum flooded my mouth,
thick and bitter and his.
I didn’t stop. I popped off him only long enough to spit his load down
his ass crack, my hand jerking myself once before I lined up.
“Hold on, baby,” I growled, rubbing my cock into the mess, coating
myself. And then I drove in, Hard.
Noah gasped, back arching, already pliant from my fingers. He bent
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Chapter 145
forward, hands flat on the wall, pushing his ass back, begging for
more.
I slammed into him, fast, relentless, each thrust nailing his prostate
until he was crying out like I was tearing him apart. The shower
echoed with the sound of skin on skin, the slap of water, and the
broken noises ripping from his throat.
My hands gripped his hips, pulling him back onto me as I pounded
him until his legs shook so badly he could barely hold himself
upright. I slowed only to grind deep, rolling my hips, pressing his
back flush to my chest, keeping myself buried in him.
“One more. Come for me, Noah.” My fist wrapped around his cock,
stroking him hard, mercilessly.
He whimpered–beautiful, broken–as his release tore through him again, cum painting the shower wall while his body clamped down around me. That sent me over. I bit into his shoulder as I spilled inside him, grinding him against the tiles until every last pulse of my
cock had emptied.
By the time I pulled out, his legs were jelly, his chest heaving. I
steadied him, rinsed us both down, forced his trembling hands under
the water until he caught his breath.
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When the steam finally cleared, I handed him a towel, pressing it to
his chest. His eyes were still glazed, lips swollen from my kiss. I
wanted to drag him straight to bed, fuck him all night until neither of
us could walk tomorrow–but I forced myself to pause, to breathe, to
let him stand in the silence.
Because tonight had been more than just sex. It had been a line
crossed, a choice made, a stage burned down. And I wasn’t about to
let him forget it.
I handed him a towel and grabbed one for myself, the sting of hot
water still buzzing in my skin. He gulped down the bottle I pressed
into his hand, and for once I didn’t say a word. The silence wasn’t
awkward. It was full, heavy, grounding.
We ended up sprawled across the bed, damp towels between us and the sheets, the television flickering through the steam that still clung to my skin. Some late–night sports recap was, running–commentators talking about the season ahead, about names people should watch,
about futures already being built.
I let the noise wash over me, one arm behind my head, chest finally
slowing down from the wreck we’d just made in the shower. I knew it
wouldn’t be long before his name came up, praised, dissected,
elevated to some level where the rest of the world would want a piece
of him. And with every cheer, every headline, every pat on the back,
there would be the reminder that I was just a college coach–ordinary
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compared to the stage waiting for him.
For now, I held on to the quiet. To the weight of the room, the hum of
the TV, the simple comfort of having him here. The glory, the
separation–it would all come soon enough.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
