Page 21 of The Penalty

Rhys lifts an eyebrow and waits, not repeating the direction, but not giving me permission either. I growl low in my throat and stick my tongue out as far as it will go, which is past my chin.

Rhys drags his dick up the length of my tongue and into my mouth, then back again. I’m going to snap if he doesn’t let me do something.

“Can you deep throat?” His tone is husky, deeper than a moment ago.

I nod as much as his hold on me will allow. That smirk crosses his face again, and I know I’ll never be able to see it without getting hard.

“Let’s see just how welldaddy likes to eat.”

Oh fuck.

He gives me more of him, pushing to the back and waits before feeding me more. It takes me a second to relax enough to let him in but I manage it.

“Atta boy,” Rhys praises me when my nose is nestled in his hair. His cock throbs on my tongue and I groan. My dick is hard and painful. “Now you can touch me.”

My hands are on his thighs, running up the corded muscle to his strong hips. He pulls out and pushes back in and feeling the power of his body is intoxicating. The man is gorgeous and he damn well knows it.

Watching for any hint that he doesn’t want it, I slide my hands under his shirt. There’s a little intake of breath, but he doesn’t look uncomfortable. I fight the urge to dig into him, to leave marks on him, proof I was here. Seeing little bruises or scratches on him from me would be…everything.

I need him to be just as affected. Just as desperate.

He threads his fingers through my hair, gripping it as his thrusts get faster, his breathing becomes panting. My attention snaps back to observing him. The pink in his cheeks, the blown pupils, the rise and fall of his chest.

I groan around him again and feel him shudder.

My dick throbs painfully, and I drop a hand to push against it.

“Leave it.” The words are harsh, sharp, and my hand is off it before my brain can process the words.

One hard snap of his hips.

My hands are back under his shirt, rubbing over his muscles.

Two.

His free hand slaps over mine on his chest, keeping it pinned.

Three and he holds it, coming down my throat with a long, low, guttural sound.

His fingers relax in my hair, and his knees start to give out. I pull off of him, licking him clean as I go, and sucking in deep breaths. Every part of me is tense and aching. If he makes me leave without coming, I will jump into a damn manhole to be eaten by the gators just to stop the suffering.

I drop back to my ass on the floor, my knees splayed, and grip my thighs in a painful squeeze.

Rhys wipes my chin and grabs my jaw, lifting my face to his as he bends down to kiss me. I can’t stop myself from clasping his head in my hands and ravaging his mouth. I’m trembling for fuck’s sake. Ready to explode in more ways than one.

He chuckles and bites my lip, sucking it into his mouth.

“I should make you suffer and leave you hanging.”

“I will jack off on your fucking pillow if you try.”

He laughs and pushes my chest to lie back. I do with no issues, perks of being a goalie. We’re bendy.

“Can you hold that position?” Rhys runs his hand down my chest, over one hip, and down my thigh. My lower back is arched off the floor a little, but it’s not uncomfortable.

“Yes. This is one of my pregame stretches. I’m good.”

My sweats make it easy for him to free my dick and with no warning, his mouth is around my cock. I cry out, gripping my hair in my hands for something to hold on to. There’s no warm up, no easing into it. He swallows me, then adds his hand to work me over quickly. It takes all of about seven seconds for me to whimper, then I’m coming with his name on my lips.

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