Page 25 of Playing for the Dark

“What in the actual fuckery. Who would’ve thought you’d be carrying this piece around? Damn I wish our football pants were white.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bigger dick. I wrap my hand around it. “Yep, never seen one this big.Djale I Bukur,I hope you want to bottom.” He lifts his head and looks mortified at that suggestion. “No pressure, Nash, I was just fucking around. Now lay back and let me see if my gag reflex is really as non-existent as I say it is.”

He takes my wrist to stop me. “I do want to eventually.” I nod and give him a soft smile I only reserve for certain people before I take his tip into my mouth. I pull off slowly to spit on it, all while looking up at him. He groans and lays his head back on the counter top. I work my spit up and down his thick, swollen length with my hand. Then I take him as far into my throat as humanly possible, meeting my hand—fuck—he really is massive.

“Z, yes! Please… More.” I start to grip with my hand, rotating it over his shaft with a tough hold.

I pop off. “I love hearing you beg. You sound like such a good boy.” He looks back at me; those normally caramel eyes heat to a fiery brown.He likes to be a good boy.

Still pumping up and down his length, I instruct, “Put your feet up on the counter.” He does just that. “Hasanyone touched you here?” I run a feather-light finger over his puckered hole. He tenses but quickly relaxes.

“No.” He’s already breathless.

My self-control snaps. I push his legs up to his chest. “Hold them here, and don’t let go until I tell you you can.” I lean back down, staring right at him all spread out. “This is very pretty. I can’t wait to wreck it.”

I begin by licking up his hole, pulling both of his balls into my mouth, and then running my tongue up the whole length of his shaft. Taking his cock back into my mouth, I bob up and down, giving his balls a nice tug.

“I like being your first, Djale I Bukur.” I run my finger around his hole again. “Do you have any lube here?” He’s shaking his head back and forth. I’ll let the not answering with words go this time. “You’re from the south… What about Crisco?”

He’s fully up and on his elbows now. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Crisco. Like the cooking oil.” I shrug. “Works great in a bind.” I could just use my spit, but I want this to be as enjoyable as possible for him.

“Up above the stove,” he says with a questioning voice. He’ll trust me with his whole existence after I give him the best orgasm of his life. “Was I supposed to prepare for this?” Fuck he’s so cute when he’s worried.

“No, Nash, sit back and relax. Let me milk this big cock of yours.”

There are a lot of men who are fighting with themselves in all pro sports because of their sexuality. Football is the worst, though, in my opinion, with all the toxic masculinity that makes men think they can’t be anything out of the perceived norm. They have to figure that out on their own. Some are even married with kids and will be secretly fucking their guy best friends behind their wife’s backs. They can live that miserable life. I don’t think Nash is going to fall into the same category as the rest, but that could just be my hopeful thinking.

Knocking at the door pulls me out of my thoughts, and I whip my head back to Nash’s. “Are we expecting pizza or something?”

He’s up, pulling his pants up, mumbling something in Spanish, and walking over to the door.

1. High - Stephen Sanchez

Chapter 18

Ellinor

I’m freshening up and getting ready to head over to Nash’s apartment. He wanted to do movies and beer, and hopefully, that includes some orgasms because damn, can that man fuck.

I pull up to the huge-ass apartment building and walk into the elevator. He said it was floor twenty-three, which happens to be the top floor.This fucker has a penthouse.

Knocking on the door, he opens it, and I have to pep talk myself to keep my jaw from unhinging. He’s bare on the top half of his body, showing off a sculpted chest and stomach. He has the thickest V-cut I’ve ever seen, and I’m suddenly wondering how it would feel to run my tongue along it.Why did I not do that last week?He’s wearing black sweats, and that’s it. They’re slung so fucking low on his hips, I honestly don’t know how they’re staying up.That fucking horse cock is probably holding them up, you dumbbitch.

1 “Hi,Mi Amor.Come on in.” He waves me in, sounding kind of breathless. “I hope you don’t mind; one of my teammates is still here. We were just watching a film from last year’s game against the Devils.”

I make eye contact with said teammate and stop right in my tracks. No. It absolutely cannot be.

“This is Za—”

Cutting him off, I seethe, “Zamir. What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“You know each other?” Nash questions.

“He’s been everywhere I’ve been the past fucking week, and I’m fully convinced now that he’s my stalker.”

“Please, let me help you figure out who your stalker really is. It worries me,Shpirt Im.” I see Nash look over at him and give him a questioning look. He could be confused about the nickname Z uses for me or that I have a stalker but probably how we even know each other in the first place.

Zamir stands in the kitchen, matching Nash in black sweats but sporting a crop top. Men in crop tops need to come with a warning.

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