Playing for Keeps

61

Adam

Paper Towels

The interview was the longest one I ever suffered through my entire fucking life.

It was like I’d been hit by a car and expected to jump up and do lunge drills. I wasn’t anything more than a dazed animal. Going through the motions, like my lips weren’t burning and my brain hadn’t been liquified in a toaster oven.

I’d taken the opportunity to kiss Piper and gone feral. I practically dragged the ice princess to my lap. There’d never been a kiss like that.

Every time I thought about it, the realization washed over me.

“Thanks, man, we appreciate it.” One of the podcast guys shook my hand.

“Yeah.” I nodded. I had no idea what I said during the interview. “Good to meet you too, dude.”

“Are you off to practice again?”

“Yeah,” I lied and pushed open the doors.

Practice would have to fucking wait. I strode down the hallway, eyes flickering across the signs on the different doors until I shoved open one to a storage closet. I could barely fit. The place wasn’t designed to house a football player. I kicked away a mop bucket and slammed my fist against the button for the lights.

Everything was bathed in darkness.

“Holy shit,” I muttered to myself between my gritted teeth, barely able to squeeze the words out. I fumbled with my belt. Fucking practice pants, all the built-in pads and shit—I yanked them down as far as I needed until my cock was finally free in the cool air, hard as a fucking rock and jerking up and down on its own accord, about as desperate as I was.

It’s magic , Piper had said, that little kitten anger curling her words.

They echoed in my head, hypnotizing me as I took my cock in my hand. Precome readily dripped from the head of my cock. Piper did this. Piper did all of this.

I grabbed the metal shelf in front of me too fast—whatever was on it knocked to the ground while I jerked myself off, thinking about those doe gray eyes and her lips. Those fucking pink lips, trembling under mine.

Don’t touch, Piper had whispered.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I hissed out, tightening my grip on the shelf with white knuckles.

Piper held her hand before she started cleaning up. Her skin, so goddamn soft. I wanted to touch her so bad, it hurt. And I squeezed her. I groped her. I lost my fucking mind on that couch.

I pumped my cock between my fist, just thinking about her tongue.

My shoulders shook and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

Her, inches from my face, her half-lidded eyes, her fluttering eyelashes, the way she bit her lip…

I should’ve bit her lip. I should’ve kissed her neck. I should’ve stood up and locked the door, and buried my face between her thighs, finally getting another orgasm out of her. I wanted her clenching my hair as she came on my tongue.

“ Piper, ” I groaned and came so hard, jagged breaths tore out of me. It spilled out to the floor and I lurched further down with each spurt of come, unable to stand steady. I had to grip the shelf to avoid sinking to the floor.

My ice princess brought me to my knees from a whole other room.

Breathing heavily, I tried to catch what I could of my breath; my sanity. That was more come than of the other times I’d ever jacked off, picturing her.

“Holy shit,” I muttered, opening my eyes. Cleaning supplies were strewn about and I’d come all over the cement floor. “God fucking dammit.”

Flipping on the lights just made it worse.

I grabbed everything I could and cleaned it up as best as I could. Which wasn’t great. My cock still hurt. I couldn’t even perform proper cleaning duties.

“Paper towels, where’s the fucking paper towels…”

I grabbed a roll of them off the top shelf and wiped up my come, fucking embarrassed.

In the training center? In a fucking storage closet?

It wasn’t like I hadn’t taken a bleacher bunny to one of the closets before but that was a lot fucking different than beating myself off in public like a fucking weirdo.

Dazed, I pulled up my pants before stumbling outside. Down the hall was a quiet bathroom with nobody else, a place where I could dispose of the evidence. And I needed to wash my hands.

I need to wash my soul.

The face in the mirror was someone I didn’t recognize.

It was me but it wasn’t.

My whole body was tense, a rubber band stretched to its ending. I actually looked like I’d been hit by a car, the bandage on my forehead only adding to it. The one Piper had given me, just like the raging hard-on she had so graciously bestowed upon me.

“Calm the fuck down,” I snarled, turning on the water. With a deep breath, I washed my hands. But that didn’t fix anything. I stared down at the sink and looked at the mirror again. “What the fuck is happening to me?”