Chapter 21 #2
A hum tortures me this time as she gathers spit and lets it trail down my cock. That gets followed by her tongue too. When she pushes it against my balls so she can anoint the upper half, I shudder.
“D, you need to give me a second if you want to keep on edging me,” I warn, fisting the sheets to hold off.
In answer, her fingers find my balls and she uses some of the escaped saliva to coat them in it then twists them in her grip and tugs. Hard.
Because I can’t watch her do this, I stare blindly at the ceiling, thinking about anything other than her mouth.
Coach doing a striptease.
Pecan fucking our vacuum—anything.
I cannot come so fast.
I can’t.
My reputation can’t stand another blow.
LITERALLY.
My fists slam into the mattress when she finally slips the tip between her lips and bobs her head until she takes half of me into the agonizing warmth of her mouth.
From the periphery of my vision, I can see her and I close my eyes.
Pecan. Coach. Vacuum cleaner. Stripper pole.
She swirls her tongue this way and that over the vein while she moves her head too. I can tell this is her first time because she accidentally gags once or twice and there’s hesitancy to some of her actions, but my girl’s got serious talent.
I am a nano-inch from disaster.
She knows too—it gives her confidence.
Decimating me does that.
I’m catching on to her devious brain.
Shuddering when she graces me with a particularly hard suck, I snap my hand out and cup the back of her head. “You do this too well, precious…” I break off, feeling beads of sweat pop on my brow.
She releases my dick to flutter kisses over its length. “You can come, Zach,” she tempts. “I want to taste you.”
Well, that’s me screwed.
Especially as she puts deed to the words by bobbing her head faster, sucking on me harder, taking as much of me as she can which, granted, isn’t a lot, but it’s still heaven.
It’s still Denver’s mouth.
Denny’s mouth.
My D’s mouth.
Fuck.
FUCK!
I cry out, hoarse with ecstasy as I let it all go, stop holding back, just allow myself to savor what she is doing to me.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced either.
She gags on my cum as it pelts her throat, but I’m so busy seeing a kaleidoscope of colors that proves the lust potion theory was bullshit. She has to be feeding me shrooms on the side.
Then, the torture continues. She laps at my cock, cleaning me up, back to humming as her clever fingers jack me off a couple times.
With a hiss, I grab her hand when it shifts toward my balls. “No more.”
She pouts. “But I was a good girl. Don’t I get a reward?”
Ah, shit.
Now I am screwed again.
“What reward do you want?”
She smiles. “Seeing as you can get hard again so quickly, I think you—” Her frown ties in with the abrupt end of that sentence.
Just as I’m thinking my dick might get the double treatment, just as I’m attempting not to blush at this reputation I’m already earning by coming fast, but it’s okay because my refractory period is ten out of ten, her head whips to the side.
“Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” I ask, the words thick and loaded with the need she already stirred in me. “Is it my computer? I swear the characters in Red Mist fart even if the official guide says they don’t.”
“No. Not a fart,” she snipes. “Something in the—” Another frown. Then, I groan when she clambers off the bed.
But when she heads for the door, my brain finally kicks in. “D? Where are you going?”
“Can’t you hear that? In the kitchen?”
Now that she mentions it, there is a faint clatter.
“Pecan?” I offer weakly.
She pshaws. “This early with no class or practice? No way.”
Because she’s too brave for her own good, Denny’s already halfway out the door before I bridge our fingers and tug her back. Her glare’s corrosive, but I don’t give a shit. I shove her behind me with one hand and cover my cock with the other.
“Pecan, is that you? Because if it is, remind me to beat the crap out of you during practice. You have the worst timing.”
I huff when he doesn’t answer.
Striding along the landing to the staircase, I snag one of my spare hockey sticks and a pair of random shorts sticking out from my duffel.
Once dressed, I tread down the stairs, ignoring her: “Do burglars usually make coffee?”
Now that she mentions it, it does sound like someone’s trying to slot the portafilter into the machine and is failing.
It’s when the ‘burglar’ screeches, “For God’s sake, just fit already,” that I straighten.
Turning to D, I order, “Stay here.”
“Yeah. Right,” she grumbles as I jump the last few steps.
She can’t move as fast as me, seeing as my legs are a foot longer than her short ones, so when I get confirmation of who broke into our apartment, I snarl, “What the fuck are you doing?”
Addison yelps and drops the portafilter onto the small shelf where the coffee machine stands in our kitchen.
Because it’s heavy, and because the shelf is glass, when it drops, I reach out, but it’s too late.
An uber loud crack echoes around the walls, followed by the shattering of the shelf.
The coffee machine falls alongside a shower of shards, tumbling in a cascade of glass, expensive metal, and coffee grounds.
Addison covers her face with her hands. “Oh, my god. Zach, I’m so sorry. You made me jump!”
“Addison?!” D thunders. “Why are you here?”
Addison acts like Denny didn’t even speak. Her gaze locks on me, bottom lip popping out in a little girl pout.
As I glower at her, I wonder what the fuck I was thinking ever dipping my dick in that.
“Did you steal my key?”
It’s all my brain can fixate on.
Not the chaos or the mess, just her goddamn presence.
“No, don’t you remember? You gave it to me.”
“Bullshit,” D inserts. “Zach never gives out his key. He’s anal about it.”
As always, Denver is right.
“You steal my key, you break into my apartment, and you trash my kitchen,” I rumble, feeling like Scooby Doo to D’s Scrappy. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“I wanted to surprise you,” Addison whispers, her eyes big as she reads my anger. More of that little girl shit creases her expression but it’s lost on me. “I haven’t seen you all week and I—”
“—thought a B&E charge would be romantic?”
Ordinarily, I’d have snorted at Denver’s sarcasm, but Addison spits, “Shut up, bitch. Who do you think you’re talking to?”
“Excuse me? You’re in my apartment. I pay a third of the goddamn rent! And that was my mom’s birthday gift to me you just wrecked!”
I snag a hold of Denver’s arm when she makes to leap into the fray.
Tucking her behind me, I vow, “You have sixty seconds to get out or I call the cops.”
“Should call the cops anyway,” Denver mutters.
Addison proves she can’t read the room by sauntering over to me. When she tries to press her hand to my chest, I back off a pace, but she keeps on coming. I dart aside when she ignores me, attempting to touch me again.
“Zach,” she whines. “I can get you another coffee machine.”
“You broke my trust, stole from me, and think I want you anywhere near me?” My jaw works. “You need to leave.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“He does,” Denver snaps. “I mean it too. He won’t be the one calling the cops, either. It’ll be me.”
“Shut up, you fat cow. This is between me and my boyfriend.”
I see red at the insult.
“You get out of my apartment now or I’ll call security and record it and post it on all my socials. Think of the humiliation,” I taunt.
Her eyes bulge, then turn pleading. “Zach, don’t be like this. I can make it up to you. I’ll do anything.”
“Have some self-respect, Addison, sheesh. I don’t like you. In fact, I think you’re a twat but you’re beautiful. No way should you be sucking up to a manwhore like Zach.”
“Thanks, D,” I say dryly, amused when she just hitches a shoulder.
Not only does Addison fail to appreciate D’s defense, she stomps her foot. “Shut it, bitch! You stole—”
“You can’t steal a person. And that’s the last time you’ll call Denver a bitch.” I turn to Denny. “Do you know where my phone is, gorgeous?”
“I’ll be right back.”
“Gorgeous?” Addison warbles the moment Denny runs up the stairs to get my cell.
“Get out.”
“Gorgeous?!” She takes in my appearance and glances at the staircase D just ran up. “Are you fucking her?!”
“No. I’m not.” When her brow puckers, I smirk. “I don’t fuck Denny. I worship her. Because she’s a goddess who doesn’t deserve for you to breathe the same air as her. Now, why the hell are you still standing here?”
The only option open to me is public humiliation or crowding her. It doesn’t sit well with me, using my size against her, but I press forward, making her back up. This time, she doesn’t try to touch me, but her gaze lingers on the staircase.
Either Denny’s watching or she’s waiting for her.
Whichever—I don’t like that expression.
I push on ahead, not stopping until she’s in the hall.
One of our neighbors chooses that precise moment to leave for work and, hiding a groan, I tip my chin at him in greeting.
Only when his back is to me, because his interest was way too high for this early on a Friday morning, I rant, “Firstly, I am not your boyfriend. I never was your boyfriend and I never will be. Secondly, I want my key.”
Her mouth pinches. “I didn’t steal it. The doorman let me up.”
“You’re a fucking liar as well as a thief because that was the biggest load of bullshit I’ve heard in my life and I play hockey. All my teammates do is chirp.
“What happened with my front door? Did I accidentally leave it unlocked?” My sneer has her flinching. “Give me the key or I’ll call the police.”
Back to pouting, she tucks her hand in her pocket and retrieves my key. “I only wanted to surprise you.”
“You did. By showing me what a cunt you are. Don’t you talk shit about Denny ever again. Definitely not in front of me. If I hear about it, I’ll be the first to make your life miserable.”
“What are you going to do? Hit me?” she growls, flushed and ugly with it.
“Nah. I’ll just spread a certain rumor… You talk a lot when you’re drunk.”
She blanches. “You wouldn’t share—”