Page 49 of Off the Pitch

Delicious moans and whispered words poured from his lips, firing all my senses. He was perfection and desire personified, and all I could was hang on for the ride.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped, grinding down on my lap and shifting the angle so my dick tagged his prostate with every move he made. “Fuck, Christian. I’m… shit, I’m so close.”

“Yeah, me too,” I said, my hand reaching for his cock, wrapping it tightly in my fingers and jacking it in time with the movements of his hips.

“Fuck, yes. Touch me.” David groaned, his hips moving faster and faster as he fucked himself down onto my cock and up into my fist. “Oh shit! Yes, I’m gonna—” David threw his head back, a deep moan pouring from his heaving chest as ropes of cum exploded across my fist.

I was wrong—this was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.

Pleasure coursed through me as David’s ass clenched tightly around me, my body reaching its boiling point, and with a final thrust my own orgasm careened through me, and I emptied into the condom. The intensity of my release left my body shaking, and I gasped for air as stars burst behind my eyes.

“That was fun,” David murmured, leaning down to kiss me sweetly. “Did you enjoy it?” he added, shooting me a dirty grin.

I laughed. That was an understatement.

“No, it was terrible,” I said, kissing him again. “I think we’ll need to do it again. See if it gets better the second time around.”

“Well, I’ve heard scientists say you shouldn’t accept the first results.” David slipped off me and collapsed on the bed beside me. I quickly wrapped the condom in a tissue and forced myself to get up and put it in the bathroom bin. When I returned to the bed, David pulled me into an embrace, wrapping himself around me like a giant octopus. I snuggled into him, breathing in the scents of sweat and sex and a hint of the candy floss bath bomb that he’d used.

“Thank you,” I said, hoping he knew I wasn’t just talking about the sex.

David pressed another kiss to my lips. “Always.”

Chapter Twenty-One

PLAYSTATION FOOTBALL

King Ensures Greenwich Are Back on Form

The Independent

David

I’d thought December had been manic, but apparently the new year had decided to one up it, and by the end of January, I was already drowning in work.

With the amount of marking and teaching prep I had to do, I was starting to wonder if my thesis would ever get done. I’d achieved so little over the Christmas break that I was starting to get worried. My funding ran out in September, and if it wasn’t done by then, then I was on my own financially.

True, my teaching was helping me save a little. But living in London was so bloody expensive. I didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. Plus, I was now spending extra money on seeing Christian. Hopping the train over to Blackheath several times a week was starting to add up. Not that I’d ever tell him that.

I didn’t want Christian to feel like he was a burden because he wasn’t.

Even though I was starting to remember why I’d mostly stuck to flings over the past few years—dating meant no time and no money.

Thankfully, the one upside to Christian’s anxiety over our relationship meant that we stayed in a lot. So instead of spending New Year’s Eve at some fancy party with his friends or at a club, we’d just watched movies and the fireworks on TV and then made love. It had been perfect.

Tonight, we were snuggled up on Christian’s sofa watchingPeaky Blinders, Christian with his head in my lap, while I mentally ran through a checklist of the seminars I had to teach tomorrow and the marking that still needed doing.

“David?”

“Huh?”

“Are you okay?” Christian shifted, tilting his head to look up at me, the cutest wrinkle of concern between his eyes.

“Yeah, just thinking about work.” I smiled, trying not to let my weariness show.

“You work too hard,” he muttered.

“This is academia,” I said, trying to brush his words off with a shrug. “I warned you I didn’t have a soul.”

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