Chapter One
Nico
I love women.
I know what you’re thinking—you’re not surprised. I’m a twenty-seven-year-old, really good-looking—if I may say so myself—franchise and league-starring goalie. Ask anyone who is around the league, and they’ll say I am the best. My save percentage is the best hands down. Just look on my mantel, and there you’ll find the photo of me with the Vezina Trophy from when I won it this summer. It was a first for me, and I’m not even embarrassed that I cried a little. I worked hard for that fucking trophy. I wanted the Cup, but we were robbed.
Fucking Nashville Assassins.
Fucking Aidan Brooks. Such a douche nozzle.
But none of that matters now. A new season has started, which means a new start. We have the arsenal needed to win the Cup, and we will. No matter what, I’ll get us that Cup. It’s number one on my goal list at home. A new season also means a new set of puck bunnies wanting all my attention. I, for one, will never deny them that. I’ll block every puck I’m physically able to, even some I don’t think I can, but I’ll never block an advance from a lovely woman. Nope, I love them way too much.
I love the smell of them. The feel of them. A great ass and set of tits will bring me to my knees. A beautiful straight, white smile will make me harder than a frozen pipe. I love how good they make me feel. I love how they scream and squirm. The little noises that bring me to the edge. But most of all, I love their hair. I don’t know what it is about a woman’s hair, but it drives me wild. Especially when it’s fanned out across my thighs and my cock is so far down her throat, there is no way I can think of anything else.
Not the sounds outside. Or the way the clock keeps flashing. Or so I thought… But, really, why hasn’t she set that clock? Why doesn’t she have an iHome or something? Who still has plain old digital clocks? It’s odd, but I wonder where she got it. It’s sort of retro. Neat, even.
“You need to set that clock?”
A pair of striking blue eyes looks up at me. They remind me of a certain someone who got away, which is why I swiped right for this sweet piece of ass. Around my cock, she asks, “What?”
I lean back on my hand to hold my weight as I point at the clock beside her bed. “It needs to be set.”
She removes my cock from her mouth. She licks her lips before setting me with a look. “If you’re worried about my clock, I must not be doing a good job.”
I shrug. “It’s a distraction.”
She draws her brows in, and those blue eyes deepen in color. A flush runs along her cheeks, down her throat. She really is beautiful. Real long and deep-blond hair, and I love the swelling of her lips. She reaches over me, her breast pressing into my taut cock, and yanks the plug for the clock out of the wall. She throws it over her shoulder, the crash making me jump a bit. The clock must have been cheap, because it shatters all over the floor. The light is gone, but now there are pieces everywhere. “Didn’t like that clock anyway, but I love how huge this dick is.”
I know I should be more thrilled about her comment on how big I am, but instead, I’m worried about the pieces on the ground. I’m not a fan of mess, which is why I usually bring girls back to my place. After a few stalker issues, I had to relocate, and since then, I’ve found myself at hotels. This is the first time I’ve been to a woman’s house, and I don’t think I’m a fan.
Don’t be weird. Just get off. That’s what you’re here for.
I blink a few times and repeat that to myself as she drops her mouth back down over my cock. Ah, it feels good. I enjoy her mouth, and I’m soon proud of myself for letting go about the mess. Thank you, new therapist. I feel my eyes roll up in my head, and soon, I let my head fall back. I sense my load building. My stomach tightens as her nails dig into my thighs. My balls pull up, and this is exactly what I want. I want this release. I need this release. I start to explode, and at first, I don’t notice that she has come off my cock. But when I do, I shoot my eyes open just in time to watch myself come all over her neck and breasts.
Don’t be weird. Ignore it. It’s fine. Some would say it’s hot… I’m not some, though.