37. Daniel #2
“Dude, why do you have so many ones in your wallet?” War asks Noah as he sets the wallet on the table at dinner.
Noah shrugs but Aiden’s the one who answers. “Maybe it’s a thing. Don’t point out people’s things.”
“It’s not a thing.” Noah grunts.
“It’s definitely a thing,” Hannah sings. “He checks every dollar that is handed to him. No idea why though.” Noah glares at Hannah but she simply shrugs. “I just speak the truth.”
“You do do that,” Brooks agrees. “Every time we go to the bar you have them break a twenty and ask for ones.”
“You secretly stripping?” Sara teases from beside her man.
I can barely focus on the conversation because of what Hannah is doing to me.
“Why the fuck do you keep moving around?” War grumbles, turning his head and staring me down.
On my other side, Hannah does a shit job at tamping down on the giggles.
I glare at her, then, focusing on breathing steadily, turn back to War. “Just can’t get comfortable. Tell us more about those dollars, Harry.”
I’ll do anything to get the focus off me because Hannah is using a fucking remote control to change the strength and speed of the cock ring’s vibrations, and it’s pure torture. My dick has been painfully hard since she sat down.
When she turns it up as I’m bringing my first bite of steak to my mouth, I growl. “If you want me to last later, I need to eat.”
War chokes on his drink and slams the glass onto the table. “Aw, is Baby Hall having a hard time keeping it up?”
I shove him so hard his chair tips. Fortunately, it goes backward. If I’d made him bump into Ava, he would have beaten the shit out of me.
“I’m not having a hard time with anything,” I say through gritted teeth.
Hannah rubs my back, and I shudder. Just her touch sends tingles up my spine. I grimace and inhale deeply through my nose, trying not to explode in my pants.
“Daniel is learning how to have multiple orgasms without ejaculating.” Hannah breaks into a devilish smirk.
Eyes closed, I shake my head. This conversation is going to go off the rails now.
I’m not the least bit ashamed of it. Hell, I used to tell the guys all about Calliope’s column.
But in the middle of dinner with all of our closest friends and my girlfriend’s goddamn brother? With a cock ring vibrating my dick?
Yeah, even saying that sentence back in my head makes me say what the fuck?
“What the fuck is the point if you don’t ejaculate?” War demands.
I swear to god the entire restaurant goes silent.
Down the table, Lennox and Sara perk up.
“What now?” Sara asks.
“Tyler,” Ava hisses, her cheeks a bright shade of red. “Do not say ejaculate.”
He smirks at his wife. “Yeah, scratch at me, Vicious. You know I love it when you get angry.”
Poor Ava sighs and shakes her head. “I’m eight months pregnant. What more could you want with me?”
He looks directly into my eyes, his blue irises icy. “I want to fill you with my cum. Because that’s what I do when we have sex. I ejaculate.”
My body shudders so violently I almost fall off my chair. Swallowing back bile, I steady myself. “Don’t look at me when you say those words.”
Holy fucking shit. Did I die? Am I in hell?
The pressure in my dick immediately deflates a fraction, and for a second, I’m actually almost thankful for the man beside me. The one I’ll never look in the eye again. Because for the first time in a solid forty minutes, I feel relief.
That sensation vanishes quickly, though, when Hannah laughs in my ear and sets the toy to a pulse setting.
Back to rock fucking hard, I groan and drop my head against hers. I’m losing the battle here. And her fucking smell doesn’t help. Neither does the way I know she’ll taste. “Fuck,” I curse as I squeeze my eyes tight, fighting the impending disaster with everything I’ve got.
“Oh my god!” Sara slams a hand to the table, making all the cutlery rattle. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”
You can say that again. I’m focused so intently on my dick I can’t speak.
The pulsing stops. The vibrating stops. Fuck. Also, thank the hockey gods I didn’t just come in my pants.
“What?” I think that’s Lennox responding. My brain is too scattered to be sure.
“He’s wearing it, isn’t he?” Sara shouts.
My eyes snap open.
“Oh my god. You totally are, aren’t you?”
“What are you talking about, crazy girl?” Brooks squeezes her shoulder to center her. The girl needs that type of grounding every once in a while.
Lennox snorts. “He’s not.”
Noah frowns, his focus fixed on me. “What’s she talking about?”
Hannah opens her mouth, but before she can speak, I slap a hand over it and bring my mouth to her ear. “I love you, baby, but if you tell your brother I’m wearing a goddamn cock ring right now, I’ll kill you.”
The table erupts in laughter and questions while I beg the floor beneath me to open up and swallow me whole.
Fuck. My. Life.
Four hours. Four fucking hours. She’s had me locked in her bedroom, chained to the bed, fucking me through one orgasm after another. I never thought I’d wish a sexual encounter was over. Never thought I’d be seeking the sweet relief of this pie right now, but fuck, my dick hurts.
I stare at it, really stare at it, and consider what I’m so damn tempted to do.
It’s Hannah’s birthday pie. This could be grounds for murder.
She deserves this chocolate cream pie.
She’s having my baby.
She’s having my baby, and she deserves this pie.
Oliver and I made this pie together.
It’s probably fucking delicious.
But my dick hurts, and it looks so soothing.
It’s cold but not too cold. The inside is probably soft.
It’ll swallow my dick in a perfect hug. The kind of hug Hannah used to give me with her perfect pussy.
Before she became this sex-crazed demon.
The mother of my child is insatiable, and my dick hurts.
Every time I’ve seen her over the last three weeks, she’s immediately jumped me.
If I’m not traveling or playing hockey, she’s riding me.
For the first few days, I was certain I’d died and gone to a horny man’s heaven.
Hannah loves me and I love her. We’re having a kid together.
I love sex. She loves sex. We’re both really good at sex. Win-win-win-win-win.
Head hung, I frown at my poor dick. It’s tired. I’m tired. I just need a little relief.
There’s no way in hell I’ll tell the woman who is carrying my child that I can’t fuck her. That if she slides down on my dick one more time, I’ll cry.
I just want Hannah to be happy. We’ve been so happy.
But…I’m in pain.
Wincing, I step toward the pie.
This is so wrong.
I peer over my shoulder. She’s asleep.
Oliver’s at his moms.
Noah went to the bar after dinner. I think he’s still out.
No one will know.
It’s like this was meant to be. She doesn’t even know about the pie since she dragged me into the bedroom the second we returned from her birthday dinner. I’ll get up early and make another one.
But for now I’m desperate for relief.
Fuck it.
I unzip my pants, and with one last look over my shoulder, I let them fall to the ground. Butt-ass naked in the kitchen, I reach for the tin pan. The whipped cream winky-face I added mocks me.
Yeah, motherfucker, I’m about to destroy you.
Without another second’s hesitation, I slam it to my groin.
“ Ahh .” The groan comes from deep inside my chest. Fuck. This is the most soothing sensation I’ve ever experienced. “God, yes.” It feels incredible. So good I can’t help but clench my ass cheeks and thrust, making sure to totally submerge my raw dick in the cool cream.
“Okay, I’ve put up with the loud-as-shit fucking?—”
Lungs seizing, I spin, because what the fuck is wrong with me? And now I’m holding a tin pan to my dick, pants at my ankles, as I stare at my girlfriend’s brother.
Noah’s eyes bore into mine, his lip curled in disgust. “I even sat across from you at dinner while you did kinky shit with her and a cock ring, and I kept my mouth shut, but I have to draw the fucking line?—”
“It’s not what it looks like.” The words are a little higher pitched than I meant for them to be. Fuck. I sound pathetic, even to my own ears.
“You’re cheating on Hannah with a chocolate cream pie?”
“Okay.” Shoulders slumping, I whimper. “It’s exactly what it looks like, but you don’t get it.”
He drops his head to his hands. “Have some fucking respect for yourself and at least turn away from me, man.”
“You’re right,” I say meekly, shuffling toward the counter, pants at my ankles.
“Oh, fuck. Now I can see your hairy ass.”
“I don’t have a hairy ass.” Chin to my shoulder, I peek down, but damn, it’s a challenge to see one’s own ass. “I don’t think. Do I?” I glance up at him and shake my head. “Don’t answer that.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He stalks past me, heading for his bedroom.
Shit. He probably thinks I’m a lunatic. Is he going to tell her?
I hop after him, holding extra tight to the pie tin so it doesn’t fall. “She’s just so horny. Always so horny.”
“Stop talking.” He slams the door in my face.
Dropping my forehead to it, I croak out an “I’m sorry!”
“You need help!” he hollers. “Be a man and tell Hannah to give you a break.”
I straighten and shake my head. Nah, I’ll just soak my dick for a little longer. And then I’ll make another pie.