Page 83 of Rebound
“Is that right?” He pushes two fingers inside and I gasp, back arching off the door. Twisting them, Patrick slides them out and then back in. He continues to do this as my vision blurs, but the one thing absolutely clear is the look on his face. “You’ve been starving this pussy and I don’t think she appreciates it.”
Words get stuck in my throat as he adds another finger and I’m so full. I can feel my heartbeat in my toes and my hands fly out to grab his shoulders as he continues to fuck me. His lips brush over my jaw and along my cheek before he presses a soft kiss to my mouth. I lean in for more and he shifts away, laughing softly. I need him to kiss me, fuck me and ruin me, but the words don’t come out.
“I wish I could slide my cock inside you right now, Lo. Fill this cunt and know when you go back out there, I’m dripping down your thighs.”
A gasp escapes me and I hitch a leg up, which Patrick grabs under the knee, spreading me open some more. His fingers are so deep I’ve stopped breathing. His hand moves hard and fast, spreading open inside me and stroking against my inner walls with every in and out motion. My eyes cross and fall closed as I ride his hand, my clit aching for attention.
He chuckles darkly in my ear and I moan, but he swallows it with a deep kiss. I shudder at how heightened everything is and slide my arms around his neck. Our tongues stroke and brush against each other, moving in a familiar dance they’ve done a million times before. I grab his hair and push my chest against his as his fingers continue their assault of my pussy.
The heel of his hand presses to my clit and I moan loudly, breaking from the kiss as my walls clench and flutter around him. My head falls back and his mouth drags down my throat. His movements are relentless and I’m a useless puddle of nothing as he skilfully pulls the orgasm out of me. I press my face into his neck as I shatter, suppressing my loud and shaky moan against his skin.
His hand slides out of me and I tremble at the loss, but pull back to watch him put the fingers in his mouth and suck them clean. My eyes are fixed on his plump lips and the way his cheeks puff and hollow, down to where his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and the additional lipstick I’ve left on his throat. It shouldn’t be this erotic, but everything this man does gets me all hot and bothered. I carefully lower my leg and once I’m steady on my feet, I drop to my knees.
“Baby, no,” he starts, but I ignore him as I undo his belt and zipper.
I shove his pants down his legs and then do the same with his boxer-briefs. Like I’m unwrapping the gift I’ve been waiting for my whole life. When I roll the top of his underwear down, his cock springs free and twitches. A bead of precum sits on the tip and I’m impressed with his restraint.
I slide his underwear down fully and then wrap a hand around his base. Patrick hisses and lifts his shirt out of the way, his eyes hooded as he watches me. I lick his tip, lapping up the moisture and teasing the head. I’ve always loved hearing the sounds he makes. It’s evident in his voice how desperate he is. I can tell he’s close too, because with every swipe of my tongue, his cock jumps. When his fingers slide into my hair, tangling in the curls, I finally take him into my mouth.
“Oh, holy fuck,” he grinds out and tugs on the strands wrapped around his hand. If I could smile, it would be the victorious kind for having finally brought this man to his figurative knees. “Just like that, baby. Deeper. Suck.”
I roll my eyes, but do what he says and take him deep until his cock touches the back of my throat. I gag, but swallow before I drag him along my tongue. Hollowing out my cheeks, I lick the vein on the underside of his dick. I look up and get a front row seat to the most beautiful sight ever—his eyes roll back into his head and he whimpers. And seconds later, he’s pressed to the back of my mouth as he lets go, hot cum sliding down my throat.
I keep him there until he’s done and swallow every last drop. When I release him, Patrick stumbles back a few steps, light brown eyes blown as he leans against the counter. I drag my thumb around my mouth to wipe up any residue as he stares. The night we shared months ago, he didn’t let me blow him, so he doesn’t know all the tricks I’ve picked up over the years. All the things I can do to him the same way he does to me.
I suck my thumb and hold out my other hand. He helps me to my feet and I smooth down my dress. He smiles and wipes himself clean, then pulls up his pants and we stand in front of the large mirror straightening our clothes. I fluff my hair and take in my pink cheeks, feeling proud that I look well fucked.
Patrick watches me with a grin. “You’re more dangerous than I remember, Lotus.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet, honey.”
A rumble starts in his chest as he wraps a hand around the back of my neck and turns me to him. Our eyes meet briefly before our mouths clash. I moan as the rumble turns into a growl and his hands slide down to cup and squeeze my ass. Kissing has never felt this filthy and somehow I know every time we collide, that’s exactly how it’s going to be.
Twenty-Eight. Static
Patrick
Trust the universe to choose this moment for when the League of Hockey Tournament organisers needed to gather everyone in Delhi for the weekend. I’ve just gotten Tamara back into my arms and I’m being dragged away again. At least it’s out of our control and not something either of us caused.
On the other hand, I’m also relieved I’m not in Chennai right now. Last night I woke up in a cold sweat and couldn’t go back to sleep. I repacked my bags to fight off the spiral and after a quick breakfast with my girl, I was on the plane. While it’s not an official diagnosis, high-functioning depression is quite exhausting. I’ve always been the kind of person who works through the hard shit and even when my brain is collapsing in on itself, I keep on pushing. Then one day everything snaps. Usually when this happens, I call Dom and he talks me through breathing exercises. I’m not sure I’ll have the time.
As for why they called this emergency meeting? Two LHT players were arrested for getting into a huge brawl. They’re both in the hospital, one with a broken leg and the other in a coma. While fights like this probably do happen in a lot of other sports, it’s rare for it to happen with field hockey players. What makes it worse is this happened before the tournament, so we’re not sure if it’s still going to happen as planned.
We’re on the second day of discussions and I’m ready to go home. So I can be with Tamara, but also politics is not why I got into sports. As an athlete, I play and keep my head down and don’t do anything stupid. On the field or pitch we know nothing of what goes on behind the scenes unless it involves us personally. It’s set up that way for a reason.
So being in the room where the decisions are happening is alarming.
I get to see firsthand how disorganised they are and how much shit they talk about each other. It’s a conference room full of the top brass in hockey, team managers and coaches. Some of these guys have travelled from their home countries to train the teams, only to be stuffed into a crowded space. Most are players I looked up to when I was starting out.
“We could postpone the tournament, ensure everything is on the right track before it’s too late,” someone suggests and I nod.
That’s rejected instantly by another manager. “There isn’t enough time to postpone it. The boys need a rest before the Pro League kicks off.”
A round of grumbles starts and I close my eyes as I think about my own schedule. As a member of the Indian hockey team, I play in every major tournament, unless there’s an emergency or a health issue. All of January and most of April, I was travelling and playing my heart out. I got a few months off before we were in Paris and now, I have the rest of the year off. I still have to train and practise as often as possible, but I’m not playing to win.
However, next year’s schedule is still unclear. We do have the Pro League tournament from February to June, which includes travelling to Europe. Since it starts around the time when our baby should be born, I’m considering skipping it and joining only for the second half. While we have a due date, Dr. Gopalan and all the parenting blogs told me it’s only a suggestion. The baby decides when they want to arrive. Knowing my kid, it’ll happen when I’m not there. Then they’ll give Tamara hell while I’m gone.
There’s a reason why I haven’t said anything to her. The minute I mention it, she’ll insist I go play. I know this is my career and I have to do what I was hired for, but she’s my girl. The mother of my child. The fucking love of my life.
