23. Avery
TWENTY-THREE
AVERY
I thought I was the one running the show here.
I thought I was in control, but when Reid steps out of his briefs and strokes his cock, eyes burning into mine, I think I might have misjudged the power balance between us.
I’m staring.
He knows I’m staring, and I know he knows I’m staring. I can’t look away from him though, and a whimper escapes from me when he rubs pre-cum down his thick length.
I yank his wrist and he collapses on the couch next to me in a mess of limbs. I ease him onto his back and throw a leg on either side of his hips, hovering above him and looking down at the man underneath me.
“What do you want, Avery?” he asks, and my name sounds like a wicked sin. “The nice guy you met at the bar? Or do you want me to fuck you like I hate you?”
“You know the answer to that.” I lean over and brush my mouth against his. A tease, a taste of what could’ve been. “I can tell by how hard you are that you absolutely despise me.”
“We should make this quick,” he says.
“That eager to get rid of me?” I put my palms on his chest and run my fingers through the dusting of red hair. “You sounded like you were enjoying yourself a few minutes ago.”
“I am.” Reid hisses when I reach down and wrap a hand around his shaft. I sit up on my knees and drag his head against my entrance, coating the tip. His eyes widen. “Shit. Shit . Avery. Hang on. Stop.”
I wince and pull back. “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing. It’s not you.” He tips my chin so I can look at him. “I, ah, don’t have any condoms here. I didn’t think I’d need a box of Trojans at work. I’ve never fucked anyone in my office before.”
I glance at his desk. “Even if you had some, they’d be impossible to reach.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that before we started.”
“What if—” I shake my head. “Never mind.”
“What?” He cups my cheek. “Talk to me. Tell me.”
“What if we didn’t use one?”
“Is that something you’d be okay with? With me fucking you like you were mine?”
“Yes,” I say right away. “I’ve never not used one, but with you, I’d be okay with it. I’m on birth control.”
“I’d be okay with that, too.” His voice is heavy. Caught in his chest and barely audible. “Have you been with anyone since we last?—”
“No. Have you?” I ask, my pulse quickening as I wait to hear his answer.
“Just you,” Reid says. “No one else.”
I lean forward and rest my hands on the arm of the couch. He takes a nipple in his mouth at the same time he slides two fingers in me, and I groan at the stretch. He doesn’t let me sink into the feeling for very long. He pulls out of me and uses my arousal to wet his cock, and I watch him.
“Okay?” I whisper, and he nods.
“Perfect,” he answers, looking at me.
I lower myself onto him, just the head first, followed by his first few inches. Our inhales are sharp and jagged, and I brace myself as I sink down, deeper and deeper until our hips press together.
We touch anywhere we can reach. His hand on my lower back. Mine moving to his hair, scratching his scalp as I lift off him then settle him back inside me, the deep satisfaction of feeling so full, so perfect, so right ; an itch scratched and everything I could ever need.
Our bodies move together. It’s not a competition, but a collaboration.
A push and pull to get each other to the blissed-out pleasure we both so desperately want.
Time comes to a standstill, and I ignore everything except him and the rhythm we slip into, like we’ve done this a thousand times.
“Fuck,” Reid draws out. Perspiration beads on his forehead when I increase the pace, riding him like my life depends on it. “ Avery .”
One of his hands sits at the base of my throat, his thumb stroking up my neck. He presses into my windpipe with the slightest bit of pressure, and I groan in pleasure at the feeling of being trapped. Of having nowhere to go but down on him again.
There’s too much sensation.
Too much Reid , and it’s never been like this before.
Not with him.
Not with anyone else.
We fuck like we won’t get the chance to again, rough and hungry and on the precipice of something magnificent. In the blink of an eye, Reid flips us, my back landing on the plush leather cushions and his hips between my knees. He lifts my leg over his shoulder and slams back inside me, filling me beyond belief.
There are so many things I want to say, but I can’t find the words. They get stuck in my throat when he splays his hand out over my ribs. When he traces the underside of my breast with one set of fingers and traces my clit with the other. When he cants forward, a determined glint in his eyes, and bites my bottom lip.
“Hate sex might be my favorite thing,” I pant, and his mouth curls into a grin. “Much better than what we did before.”
“You should piss me off more often.” He pinches my nipple, twisting it between his fingers until the pain melts to ecstasy. “Stop holding back, Avery. Give it to me.”
“You give it to me first,” I say, lifting my hips so I can meet his thrusts. He groans, and my grin matches his. “There you go, Reid. That’s so good.”
“Where—” He swallows and tips his head back. Another low groan works its way free. “Should I?—”
“Anywhere.” I grip his shoulders and rock him into me. “Wherever you want.”
“Fuck. Fuck .” He pulls out of me and grips his cock, jerking himself up and down. His other hand fumbles between my legs, circling my clit as he comes on my stomach. “ Avery .”
Hearing him say my name does me in.
I follow after him, stars in my vision as he tips me over the edge to a second orgasm. My skin is on fire. I’m electrified and alive, and I moan through the bliss his touch brings me.
Our synchronized breaths fill the quiet room, but neither of us move.
We stay like that, touching and toeing the line of euphoria until I open my eyes and find him looking at me.
“What?” I ask.
Reid shakes his head. He sits back on his heels and gently moves my leg from his shoulder, his thumb pressing into my calf. “Nothing.”
It doesn’t feel like nothing.
I glance down at the mess he left behind. “Do you have anything I can use to clean up?”
“Yeah.” He winces when he stands, trudging naked to the closet in the corner. He flips on a light and grabs a roll of paper towels, ripping off a dozen sheets. “Hang on.”
His eyes bounce around the room and he finds a water bottle on top of the bookshelf in the corner. He twists the top off and dumps half the contents on the paper towels, wetting them and walking back over to me. I offer him his glasses and he slips them on.
“Sorry it’s not warm,” he says, kneeling by my side and wiping his cum away. “Or softer.”
I watch him, caught off guard by his kindness. By the care he puts into cleaning me up and making me good as new. “It’s probably better than going back to the field looking like this.”
“People would certainly ask questions.” Reid chuckles out a soft laugh, but his hand stills on my stomach. His eyes fix on my belly button and the top of my thighs, and I squirm under his gaze.
Now that the moment of hot and heaviness has passed, I feel split open and exposed, like he can see my deepest, darkest thoughts. I shouldn’t still be sitting here naked and he shouldn’t still be staring at me, but he is. He is, and I have no clue what he’s thinking.
Does he regret what just happened?
Is he counting down the seconds until I get out of here?
“What?” I ask again, and this time, it’s barely above a whisper.
“I’m not allowed to talk about it now,” he says.
“Why not?”
“Because it was something I could say when I was inside you. Saying it now would be…” he trails off and runs the paper towel low across my belly. A fresh wave of heat ignites in me with the slow drag of his hand. “It’s best I keep my mouth shut.”
“You could tell me. If you wanted to,” I hear myself say, and his eyes snap to mine. “Until we put our clothes on, it’s fair game.”
Reid’s cheeks turn pink, and he dips his chin. He clears his throat, his touch soft on my skin. He moves to my hip bone, his thumb brushing over the top of my thigh, and I let out a shaky breath.
“I chose the wrong spot,” he mumbles, and I sit up on my elbows.
“What do you mean?”
“I should’ve—” His breathing turns labored. “In you. I should’ve finished in you. So I could see what you looked like. I’ve never wanted to before, but you—” He lifts his chin and there’s desire in his eyes. Pupils blown wide, his lips part as he looks me up and down. “Sorry. That’s way too much information and I?—”
“I would’ve liked that. That would’ve been okay. I said anywhere. I meant it.” I put on my bra and shirt and look for my underwear, finding the pair ripped in half. “I’m not sure how I’m going to explain my forty-five minute disappearance.”
“Blame me,” he says, searching for his briefs.
“I plan on it. You’re entirely at fault for this.”
“You kissed me first,” he says.
“I did not,” I challenge.
“Yes, you did.”
“You pushed me against the door.”
Reid tosses me my leggings and socks. “Call it even?”
“Deal.” I finish getting dressed and glance at him. “I should get going.”
“Want me to walk you down?” he asks.
“That’s okay. I know where to go. I’m practically an expert now.”
“Okay.” He slips on his joggers and covers his chest with his shirt. “Thanks, uh, for listening to me. About my dad. I appreciate someone lending an ear. I usually talk to Dallas and Maverick about those kinds of things, but they’re a little tied up.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m not going to go off and tell anyone?—”
“I know,” Reid says, cutting me off. “I know my secret is safe with you.”
“Have fun with the desk.”
“Have fun with the—” A chorus of cheers leak into his office. The walls shake, and we look at each other. “Guess that’s a sign we have work to do.”
“Right. Yeah. I’ll see you in a few weeks,” I say. “At the next game.”
“Mhm.” Reid slides his hands into his pockets. “And I’ll talk to you in an hour when you’re congratulating us on our win.”
I huff and roll my eyes, heading for the door. “It’s only the preseason. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“It always means something,” he says, and I can’t help but hear the implication there. “See you later, Sinclair.”
“Later, Duncan,” I toss back, escaping into the hall and closing the door to his office behind me.
I lean against the wall when I’m alone and take a deep breath.
That was a colossal mistake.
Something that absolutely cannot happen again.
I only make it five feet down the hall and away from the scene of my crime before my phone is vibrating in my pocket.
I check it, expecting to see a score update or a stream of panicked text messages asking where I went, but it’s a message from Reid with a photo attached.
My heart lurches to my throat, and I hesitantly open the picture. It’s an image of the heart I drew and put on his computer, with six words attached.
Reid
You must really hate me, huh?
I don’t bother replying, hiding my phone and sprinting down the hall.
The Thunderhawks lose by twenty-one, but I can’t bring myself to care.