Chapter 16
Thayne
Somehow, I went from making us pumpkin cold cream in the electric frother Gilly surprised me with at the start of the season to having her choking on my cock.
Not that I’m complain’.
I would never complain.
I just…didn’t see this shit coming.
We’re talkin’ low screen, tip-in shot in the final six seconds spin.
We’re talkin’ a maple pancake iced latte surprise.
We’re talkin’ end of “The Pina Colada Song” type of twist.
And now that I’m here – much like the song – I’m just gonna go with the flow.
Enjoy the vibe.
Handtothepost, we don’t get many of these moments alone anymore.
I love my baby bro.
I do.
I mean that with my whole ABBA is number one forever heart.
He’s fam.
He’s blood.
But fuckme can the boy cock block like he’s plannin’ to get to the national league in the shit.
It’s pushed me to find a whole new level of appreciation for Mondays, which is when he goes back to school and the woman of my dreams works from home meaning it’s one of the rare occasions – when I’m home – that she can be breakfast or brunch or lunch or all three.
Key words there are “when I’m home”.
Back in season schedules are brutal and having him here, needing us, needing something from us, only adds tracks to the struggle album of the year.
Gilly lightly drags her nails down my flexing thighs prompting my head to lazily loll forward, more than content just watching the glorious sight.
Seeing my beautiful, full-figured Slayer on her knees, back arched, making her pink, lounge shorts covered ass pop, mouth stretched so wide that spit trickles past the corners of her lips, down the side of her golden toffee brown skinned neck is a vision I want burned in my memory to get me through the roadies ahead.
Cheating ain’t something I’ve ever done.
Don’t ever plan on doin’.
Don’t condone the boys who have Slayers waitin’ at home doin’.
Most teams have their fair share of strayers – those more obsessed with scratchin’ the record for their own pleasure than who that scratch is gonna hurt – however shit’s a little different here in Dalvegan.
The collective consensus among us is ferda.
That means…always put the team first.
The boys first.
And doin’ messy shit like that is puttin’ you first.
And that means you don’t belong here.
And you don’t stay.
And I get how me bein’ with the Coach’s little sister puts that target on my back, but it’s more than a risk worth takin’.
Especially since this ain’t a one and done for me.
This is my forever.
I just keep prayin’ she feels that too.
“You look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth, baby,” I praise, hand not wound tightly around the kitchen tool cupping her cheek.
Her midnight chocolate gaze immediately peers up at me, anxious for further approval.
“So sexy makin’ a mess for me…” The edge of my thumb smears a bit of the dribble upward. “For your favorite tendy…”
Hungry whimpers reverberate around the kitchen prior to Gillian accelerating her speed.
What was initially slow and precise and leisurely becomes swift and sloppy and gluttonous with my dick relentlessly diving deeper.
Each shallow thrust causes her slick, white hot muscles to constrict.
Contract.
Choke her along with me.
Breathing is no longer in the playbook for either of us yet neither of us seems to care.
Not when every shudder that shoots down her spine sprints up mine.
Not when her gasps have her throat grasping my dick tighter and tighter.
Not when the globs of spit spilling onto her lips become the perfect paint to brand my number onto her face.
“That’s it, baby,” is groaned through gritted teeth as I begin to draw a three.
“Keep goin’.” Additional streams slide down my balls, caressing them like the ice does my skates.
“Keep gaggin’.” Her entire body jerks and so does my shaft, desperate to paint the twitching territory white.
“You look so fuckin’ hot, Slayer.” More drool is dragged over to begin the five.
“You look so fuckin’ perfect wearin’ my number like this… ”
The realization that that’s what I’m composing on her cheek pushes her to bob faster.
Frenziedly.
Turn her teasing scratches into savage scrapes that result in my bare toes doing the same to the cold floor.
“Fuck…” airily bounces around the room as my nuts jump upward, determined to catch every little drop my thumb misses. “You gonna swallow, Slayer?” She sucks a little harder. Greedier. Damn near becomes unhinged. “You gonna swallow for thirty-five?”
Clamping down the muscles in her throat at the same time she does her nails in my leg are the top cheddar combo I can’t block even if I wanted to.
“Holyyyshitttttt…” I shakily whisper alongside the swelling of my shaft. “HolyshitSlayer.” One spurt is instantaneously chased by a second. A third. “Swallow me, Gilly.” The next blurs my vision and buckles my knees. “Swallow me like only my woman can.”
Despite the increasing sensitivity, I keep my cock buried in her throat, moaning and groaning and grunting to the same incessant rate she’s still sucking.
Still struggling for more air.
“Thayneeeeeee!” abruptly shouts Bronny, accompanied by the sound of the front door aggressively slamming behind him, a combination that leads to me knocking over the container of cold cream I just made into the sink. “Thayyyneeee!”
Gilly scrambles to her feet to clean her face with a random dish towel while I do my best to wiggle my lime green sweats back into place.
One handed.
Thank The Great One I’ve got remarkable dexterity or otherwise he’d have a pretty good faceoff position for arguing about dicks being out in the kitchen.
“Thayyyneeeee!” my little brother continues screaming as he comes barreling around the corner. “Thayyyneee!”
“Why are you howlin’ my name louder than you did when you discovered what foalin’ was?” I mirthfully grouse at the same time I reach over to turn the sink on.
“We have a prob!”
“You mean besides your screechin’ ruining my homemade pumpkin creamer?”
“A real prob!”
“First off, stop shoutin’,” is commanded over the running water. “And second, where’re your manners?” Tossing him a glower occurs the instant he arrives on the other side of the island across from me. “Greet Gillybean.” I flick off the faucet. “You weren’t raised in a barn.”
Bronny dramatically sighs, turns his attention to the woman beside me, cordially states, “Hey Gilly.”
“Hi Bronny,” she warmly says prior to leaning forward onto her palms. “What’s the problem?”
“Explosion emoji, question mark, question mark!”
“It’s like tryin’ to decipher what Eddie Vedder is singin’ sometimes.”
“Difficult but you love it anyway?” Gilly sweetly teases, pulling my gaze to hers.
It’s impossible not to lean over and brush my lips adoringly against her. “You’re made me for me, you know that?”
“I do,” she coos in return on a soft peck.
“Prob.Lem!” the teen loudly erupts again. “Huge!”
We redirect our stare back to him, yet I’m the one that does the additional investigating. “What is it?”
“We gotta make a mum!”
“A mom?”
“A mum.”
“A British mom?”
“That’s what I said!” He enthusiastically points on a chuckle. “But no, it’s like this prize-winning ribbon cluster thing that chicks wear on their boobs.”
Befuddlement has my entire frame crumpling towards him. “What?”
“Really?” Gilly amusedly ponders, prompting us to glance in her direction. “You guys didn’t make mums back in Middlebrook?”
“Never even heard of ‘em,” escapes in continued disconcertment.
“Think corsage-”
“Like at breakfast?” Bronny interjects, his own body scooting closer to the conversation.
“That’s croissant,” my girlfriend snickers off, “and no. A corsage is a small flower bouquet a person can wear on their wrist for special occasions like prom or certain weddings.”
“Like boutonnieres, bud,” I add.
“He thinks a corsage is a breakfast sandwich. There’s no way he knows what a boutonniere is.”
“That’s that thing you had on for Dubs’s weddin’, right?”
An arrogant hand is waved in his direction.
“Okay,” she begins again, head mirthfully shaking, “it’s sort of like that but much, much bigger and filled with ribbons and glitter and trinkets and stickers and so on.”
“Sounds heavier than my goalie gear.”
“However,” Gillybean precedes as though I hadn’t interrupted, “you only need to make one if you’re going to homecoming with a date.”
“Right,” Bronny immediately agrees.
“Wait…” thrill bounces her in her place, “did you decide to go after all?!”
“After all?” I unhappily question. “Were you debatin’?” Curiosity cocks my head to the side. “When were you debatin’?” New waves of bewilderment burst through me. “Why were you debatin’? Why wouldn’t you go?”
“New school. New people. No allegiance yet,” the love I hate not waking up to every morning now that the season is in full sesh nonchalantly answers on his behalf before retraining focus on him. “So, you’re going?”
He nods.
“And you have a date?!” she struggles not to squeak.
This time when he nods it’s a bit more bashful.
Boyish.
The way I tend to get when I talk about my Slayer.
Awwhell.
We really are in trouble.
“When is it?” I cautiously ask not wanting him to hear judgment in my voice of any sort.
“This Friday,” they answer in tandem.
My retro, off white, Dolly Parton t-shirt covered shoulders sink to the floor.
“I’ll be in Colorado.” Hiding the hurt in my expression is damn near impossible.
“I’mma miss your first Texas HC.” More disappointment floods from me without my consent.
“I thought for sure with you here I wouldn’t have to miss this kinda shit… ”
“We’ll take lots of pics for you and Grams,” Gilly immediately promises at the same time she curls her arm around my waist. Her thumb encouragingly strokes my side as I look down at her in discontent. “Plus, we’ll video chat you, so you get the whole experience.”