Page 49 of False Start
She glues her spine to me, like she can’t help but get closer. I pull her in even tighter, and she melts. My fingerstwirling the hardened bead of her nipple while the other hand dances lower. She lets out a soft whimper just as I hear DreadPool’s loudmouth enter the locker room.
“Can someone tell Scott to just shut the fuck up?” they yell like they’ve been holding it in all practice.
A trail of laughter follows, the rest of the skaters packing in behind them. “You were saying ‘thank you, daddy’ two seconds ago when he handed you your check,” Nancy calls Dread out.
I don’t let the distraction take me, and I don’t let it take her either, my fingers sliding through the sticky heat waiting for me. She’s so wet. Even with the water washing it away, she’s still soaked, her arousal dripping down her thighs.
Nia lets out a squeak when I spread her lips, sliding past her clit and pushing all the way inside, my fingers curving and hooking.
“Shh,” I whisper in her ear. “Do you want them to hear you?”
Their voices drown out in the background with their normal post-scrimmage conversations and plans for the night. The loud beating of the water makes it impossible to know what anyone is saying unless they yell.
But that doesn’t mean they can’t hearus.
I’m moving my fingers slowly, savoring the build up this time until I have her bucking her hips with each stroke. She’s moaning, and it’s nearly audible. If anyone is suspicious, they don’t make it known. The stalls are tall, but it would only take someone looking in the gap beneath the curtain to see both our feet.
I flip her to face me, lifting her up by her hips and pressing her against the wall. She instinctively wraps her legs around me, holding herself up. A desperate, heartymoan falls from her lips once I move my fingers inside her again.
I cover her mouth with my free hand, but within seconds, she’s wiggled enough to move it out of the way, biting it. Her teeth wrap around the outside near my pinky. She doesn’t make another sound, instead, she bites harder the closer she gets to her release.
I take it as a challenge. The more pain I feel, the harder I fuck her.
Her explosion is catastrophic, a tidal wave of pleasure that pulses through her so violently, I can feel it in my own soul.
Satisfaction.
It’s the only highIchase.
Somehow it’s become intrinsically entwined into her existence.
I pull my fingers free once I feel she’s fully down from the climb, raising them past her to my own lips so I can finally get a taste.
It’s everything I knew she would be.
Now, I’m twice as fucked.
Her eyes are locked on mine, and she hasn’t blinked. I lean closer, a quiet hum in her ear. “Now go try to pretend I didn’t just fuck you again.” Letting her down, she gives me one last look before she grabs a hanging towel and slides out behind the curtain.
I look at my hand, instant gratification at seeing the blood pebbling out from the mark her teeth left on my skin.
“I thought Cat was in the shower,” I hear Bae asking loud, her headphones probably still on.
“Oh—uh, I think she’s showering too.” Nia’s voice trembles just outside the stall, and the smile curves itself on my face like it belongs.
I wash, not bothering to relieve the ache between my own legs but still savoring the taste of her on my tongue. The water pressure sucks here, but it's enough to get the sweat off and do what it needs to.
When I’m done and dried, the locker room is clear.
I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed.
It’sFriday night practice now, and I’ve seen Nia Da Silva exactly two times since the bout. Monday and Wednesday. She’s making a habit of sneaking out of practice early enough to get in the shower before anyone notices, always leaving the curtain open for me to follow behind.
I make her come, she sneaks away, and by the time I’m done, she’s out of sight.
Tonight is no different. She’s got her teeth wrapped around my hand, her eyes lasered in on me while I fuck her with three fingers. She grips the wall, the shower caddy, anything to hold herself up as she comes undone with tonight's orgasm.
But we still don’t talk.
