Page 90 of Secret Obsession
I curl my fingers into the front of his sweatpants, flexing against his hard-on. My knees go a little weak, but he’s right there. Keeping me up. He undoes the cuffs and releases me. The mask keeps my heart beating faster. I reach up and pull it off his face, revealing his scruff and his intense glower and his ticking jaw.
I reach for that jaw.
And then the plug comes to life.
It buzzes, and I jump out of my skin.
He grasps my forearms, keeping me upright. I arch away from the vibrations and inadvertently press myself to his body. Where his hard cock strains to greet me through his sweatpants.
“What the fuck is this?”
“Something to remember me by.”
He shows me the remote in his hand, clicking a button. The vibrations die, leaving me panting. I don’t know if I like it or hate it, but I glare at him all the same.
He pats my ass. “We gotta go. You can do your makeup or whatever at the arena, but I need to keep my eye on you.”
Great.
27
MILES
Our second goalie, who isn’t thegreatestgoalie to ever exist, is Jeremy Blue. Nicknames include: Blue Jay—when he’s demonstrating that he can stop a puck, and because sometimes he resembles a blue bird flapping his wings in the crease—and Blue Balls. You know, when he’s holding out on us.
I sit off to the side, because Coach made it clear that I wasn’t playing today at all. I’ve got my pads on in case something goes wrong, and Blue Balls fucks it up and gets injured. But until then, I’m benched. All because of a little fight with Pierce.
Greyson, on the other hand, is out there skating for his life.
We’re playing the Shadow Valley Knights, and they’re out for blood tonight. They’re ranking a bit better than us at this point in the season, and they seem to remember the last time we played each other. The fight that Steele started with one of their best players, Josh Maverick.
I spot him now, gliding around the ice like a pompous peacock. Steele’s got his gaze on a swivel, seeming determined to check Maverick into the glass every time he gets the puck… and a few times when he doesn’t.
The whistle blows, and my attention drifts from Blue Balls to the stands next to me. True to my order, with some help from my teammates, Willow and her friends are seated behind the bench. She’s actually adjacent to me, which works out just fine.
I hit the button on the plug’s remote stashed in my pocket.
She was mid-conversation with Violet, but all of a sudden she goes rigid.
“Are you okay?” Violet says, maybe.
There’s a lot of noise in the stadium, and I’m mostly lip reading and anticipating. I up it a level, and Willow squeezes her legs together.
Do I want her to orgasm in front of her friends?
Not particularly.
But…
Nah, don’t do that.
She hasn’t come since she moved in with me. It’s only been a week, but she hasn’t said a word about it. I don’t even think she’s noticed.
My teeth grind together.
The play has resumed, drawing Violet’s focus back to the ice. Willow, however, turns and glares at me. Her hips are moving ever so slightly, and her eyes lose focus the longer I let it continue.
Her pupils are dilated.
