Page 29 of Ice Me Out

Shit. Vera fucked me good. I never drool.

“Wh-what’s going on?”

“We overslept. You’re going to be late for practice if you don’t leave soon,” Vera rushed out as she stripped off my shirt she wore to bed. My brain registered that I was running late, but seeing her naked in the morning light had my brain short-circuiting and telling me fuck practice and all the consequences that came with it. Coach would do everything he could to make me suffer, but Vera was worth Coach’s never-ending burpee circuit.

But will my teammates forgive me if he’s having a shitty day and forces them to join me? I better get my ass going.

“What time is it?”

“8:15.”

“Shit. I’d take you back to your car, but I don’t think I can swing it. Can I get you an Uber?” I asked, tossing the sheet off and climbing out of bed.

“I already took care of—”

She stopped mid-sentence, and her eyes trailed from my face down my naked body to my growing erection. I stroked it teasingly, hoping it’d be enough to entice her to jump back in bed with me or at least agree to a quick wall-banger in the shower.

After the marathon fucking we had, I was convinced I knew all the buttons to push and the spots to hit to make her gush all over me in a matter of minutes.

“You want another taste?”

She smirked and shook her head as she tied her braids into a ponytail. “I really fucked you up.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see,” she said before leaving my bedroom on the hunt for her clothes. I bit my bottom lip and suppressed a groan as I watched her walk away.

I got it fucking bad.

I entered the bathroom and flipped on the light. My eyes widened when I caught my reflection in the mirror. I lightly traced the angry red scratches that Vera left on my neck, chest, and abs. I turned to the side and admired the scratches down my back. “She really fucked me up.”

During my shower, memories of last night and early morning ran through my head. From laying eyes on Vera for the first time, laughing over desserts and beer flights, struggling to undress ourselves for an X-rated tour of my condo, her riding my face, to her arousal dripping down my balls onto my sheets. Regrettably, I’d worked myself up even more and had no choice but to jerk off in the shower. I thought of Vera’s tight body and the way she whispered Sweet Hart into my ear as I brought us both to completion. A few minutes later, I blew my load and cursed when my dick didn’t deflate.

What has this woman done to me?

I rushed through the rest of my shower and stubbornly brushed my teeth. Vera’s taste still lingered on my lips and tongue, where I preferred it to stay.

I tugged on my base layer and sweatpants before tossing one last longing look at the sweaty, cum-stained tousled sheets. The fitted sheet had unfurled from the top-left and right corners, meeting at the center of the bed. A few pillows were wedged between the mattress and the headboard, and the comforter covered the floor like a rug.

“Sweet Hart? How do you like your eggs?” Vera called out from the kitchen, infiltrating my sexual fantasies of having her ankles on my shoulder while drilling into her.

How do I like my eggs?

I met Vera in the kitchen and found her attempting to slip her dainty feet into her heels while simultaneously pouring me a thermos of coffee. Thick cuts of bacon rested on paper towels, and avocado and tomato slices lay on the cutting board next to toasted brioche buns.

She’s making me breakfast… in my condo… the condo no woman has ever entered intimately.

She snapped her fingers, pulling me out of my reverie. “How do you like your eggs?” she repeated, screwing the lid on the thermos.

“Over easy.”

“Perfect,” she said, setting the travel mug on the bar before cracking two eggs into a heated pan. The loud crackling sound made my stomach rumble with anticipation. It reminded me of waking up on Sunday mornings before church and finding my mother or Ms. Kelly cooking all the “fixins” to prepare us for a long day of “congregating with the saints.” In reality, it was a long day of DeAndre and I nodding off and getting pinched for not being attentive.

“You didn’t have to make me breakfast,” I said, moving towards the laundry room where I stored my duffle bag and equipment.

“I figured you needed something after your strenuous workout session.”

I snorted as I rifled through my bag to ensure I had everything.