Page 53 of Gross Misconduct

“You want this cock?” He holds my chin back, fucking wagging his dick in my face. Which sadly, only makes me want it more.

He lifts up his heavy shaft. “Lick these nuts.”

I take a ball in my mouth, then go to the other. I can feel their heaviness, full of come. They’re musky, manly, a mix of sweat and rain coating them. He jerks himself while I lap up each ball.

“I’m going to make you come so hard.” Another threat escapes my lips.

“You’re going to swallow every last drop,” he growls at me, sending a bolt of heat exploding between my legs.

“You can’t fucking tell me what to do,” I say before taking his cock again. He juts his hips out to give me a better angle.

“Hands off,” he says. I drop my hands to the side, and Griffin grabs a fistful of hair in each hand and fucks my face.

“Take it,” he commands.

The feel of his cock filling my mouth, precome bitter on my tongue mixed with the hard taste of rainwater that drenches us. I lose myself in the rhythm, in the waves of lust rolling off both of us. His burly hands tighten around my hair as he pulls me closer, rutting into my mouth.

“Fuck. I’m coming.” He lets go at the last minute, as if giving me a last minute choice to back away if I wanted. I’m not going anywhere.

He unleashes a guttural moan that rips from the deepest part of his chest as he empties himself down my throat. I swallow every last bitter drop of come, leaving no stone unturned in my quest to right the wrongs of the rooftop.

He falls back against his truck, holding his cock at the same time. The rain glistens on his meaty thighs. I wipe all residual glimmer of blowjob off my lips.

“Glad we could finally get that out of our fucking systems.” I stand up and walk away, leaving Griffin slumped against his car.

18

GRIFFIN

It’s kid chaos at my house a few days later. The girls are running around the backyard with Tanner’s kids, playing some game that’s a mix of tag plus make-believe divided by red rover. In their world, the game has a rigid set of rules impenetrable to us adults.

I think I prefer kid chaos to the chaos swirling inside my head after that drive-by blow job I got from Jack. My body is still on fire from the hookup, flashes of sizzling heat sliding over my skin as I think back to Jack’s mouth on mine, his lips stretched around my cock.

Well, my first time doing anything with a guy was memorable, at least.

Tanner and Des have come over to help me with building the ice castle treehouse for the girls. We’re putting up the walls today, then I’ll paint. I found a soft blue color and glitter additive that’ll give the structure a shimmy, icy look. Luckily, today is one of those late winter days that’s been more like spring, sunny and warm enough to be outside.

“Did you see the email from Bill?” Tanner asks as he lines up another board, which Des screws in with the power drill. They have a system down. “We have to go to the rink tomorrow morning.”

“Our old practice time?” I ask. The time we wanted before Jack beat me for it. “Will the Blades be there?”

“I assume so.” He shrugs, out of information.

“I wonder if they tattled about all the pranks.” Des, whose phone has been in his hand the entire time we’ve been working, clicks to the email and reads it aloud. “All Comebacks are asked to attend a quick meetup tomorrow morning at the tail end of the Blades’ practice. Yadda yadda, yadda. Blah, blah, blah.” Des screws in the nail with the power drill. “That’s weird. I play hockey to avoid pointless meetings.”

“Do you think Jack is mad about the pranks?” Tanner passes me a plank of wood to nail into the structure. “You two are oil and water whenever you’re around each other.”

Or maybe we’re oil and a match, engineered to explode on impact. My stomach does a roller coaster loop at how combustible we were.

“I don’t think it’s that,” I say.

“You think he’s still getting back at you because of his dad?” Tanner asks, aiding me in lining up the plank, a minor difficulty with having one functioning eye.

“No. Jack and I are just opposing teammates.”

Des studies my face like one of those quirky detectives on TV who can walk into a crime scene and tell the police exactly what happened.

“Heads!” yells Tanner’s son Dean as a kickball whizzes by. Tanner catches it an inch from my face.

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