Page 61 of Breakaway Goal

Rhys Callahan is fully naked on my bed, and my brain feels like a warm puddle of goo.

The powerful muscles rippling up and down his body coil when I wrap my grip around the base of his cock.

It’s velvety soft, warm, and unbelievably hard at the same time. Not to mention gorgeous. His shaft is long and thick, with a prominent ridge running on the underside. The head is pink and swollen, and already a bead of pre-cum glistens at the tip.

“Wow,” I can’t help but marvel as I tentatively, playfully alter the strength of my grip, getting a sense of the heft of his member in my hand.

“Like this?” I ask, tightening my grip and slowly dragging it up his length.

“Lighter,” he says, his voice strained. His hips seem especially tight, like he’s struggling not to thrust his cock into my fist.

“Hmm,” I hum. “Like this, then?”

I loosen my grip, slowly stroking up and down, stopping just short of the nerve endings separating his shaft from the head.

He chuckles. “Tighter than that.”

I bunch up my mouth thoughtfully, experimentally altering my grip as I continue to pump my first up and down him.

“There,” he says sharply, and I pause. “Just like that.”

Gladness unfurls inside me. I want to be able to make Rhys feel good, and I’m desperate to see what his body looks like when it’s wracked with the kind of pleasure he just put me through.

I pull my lip between my teeth and smile coyly as I work my hand up his length with the right grip, but this time, I pass that fringe of pink nerve endings and glide my hand over the tip of his cock.

“Fuck,” he growls. His muscles dance as they pull tight with tension.

I keep going, slowly, wanting to draw this out. His features are pinched as he looks down at me while I stroke his cock, loving the feeling of him in my hand, growing giddy by the heady sense of power that having this kind of control over such a big, strong body fills me with.

“Is the pace right?” I ask.

“Faster,” he answers, not missing a beat. The strained need in the word makes the muscles between my legs pull tight.

I pick up my pace, and Rhys rewards me with a groan of bliss.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Fuck, just like that.”

When my grip crests over his pink head, I glide my thumb gently over the very tip, and I’m rewarded by another strained groan of pleasure pulled from Rhys’s chest. The sound makes me feel buzzed all over, like taking another shot of alcohol when I’m already tipsy.

A thought occurs to me. “Would it be better if it was wet?”

A sound rumbles from him, like a chuckle mixed with a groan, like he can’t believe how lucky he is that I asked that question. “Yeah,” he answers.

I bring my free hand to my lips and use my saliva to coat the head of his cock. I know what I’m doing right now is working for him, so I don’t want to switch over to a blowjob, where he’d have to coach me on what to do all over again.

I keep pumping while I slick his cock, until my grip is slippery. Rhys’s fists curl into my sheets, and excitement streaks through me. He’s close.

I keep pumping, letting my grip get slightly tighter as it glides over his head, continuing to apply pressure to the tip of his dick. His hips can’t stay still any longer, and he thrusts himself into my movement, his breaths growing shallower and his features pinching tighter.

“Maddie, fuck, gonna come,” he grits out.

My gaze is wide on his cock as I keep pumping. A hoarse growl rips from his throat, his muscles go tight, and streams of hot cum burst from his cock. His body jerks as hot gobs of his release jet out of him, coating my hand and his lower abdomen.

I pump him as he rides it out, milking his shaft until it’s dry. When he reaches out to push my grip away from him, I wipe his cum off on my sheet. I’ll worry about laundry later.

“Maddie,” he breathes my name, his voice laden with disbelief. “Did I fucking die and go to heaven?” He huffs out a surprised laugh. “That was … fuck. Incredible.”

Pride beats in my chest. “Guess I’m a natural,” I tease, sidling next to him, fitting my almost-naked body close against his naked one.