Page 51 of Love of the Game
The comments had blown up under that. Most of them were nice, or cute. Some were homophobic, because some people are awful. But everyone now knew there was something between us.
“Wow,” Drake said. “Guess we’re out, huh?” Then he placed his phone upside down on the kitchen island and tugged me away. “Let me give you the tour of my bedroom.”
I let him pull me through the living room to the stairs. “Am I going to see any of it, or is ‘bedroom tour’ a euphemism for ‘face into the mattress?’”
His grin was wicked, and I shivered in delight.
I did catch a tiny glimpse of his bedroom (another brick wall, some kind of painting of a beach, and light-colored furniture) before we were making out again, and his handswere tugging at the hem of my sweatshirt. “Get these clothes off so I can show you my bedspread.”
Didn’t take long to strip, and before I knew it, I was on my hands and knees on said bedspread. Not that I noticed much, not with Drake stroking my cock and tonguing my hole. It was all I could do to have any coherent thoughts. I curled fingers into the cloth and moaned his name. “Gonna make me come like that.”
“Nuh uh.” He gave my ass a soft slap and fondled my balls. “I want my dick nice in deep inside you when you do. Want your ass milking every last drop out of me.”
I bit my lip and shuddered because oh my God, imagining that had me about to shoot my load. “Better make it soon.”
Of course, he took his time. I was beginning to think he had an edging kink—or he just liked to hear me beg and whine and beg some more, because he had me babbling and pleading for him to fuck me already for what felt like an hour. I could barely hold myself up on my elbows, and my throat was raw from moaning.
“I love the way you sound. The way you look,” he said. “All strung out. Because of me. For me. You’re so damn beautiful, and I get to turn you intothiswhenever you want.”
“Please, Drake.”
“Patience.”
“Don’t have any. You’ve used it all up. I’m the most—” He slid two fingers inside me. “Oh God.”
“There you go.”
He didn’t need to finger-fuck me. Hell, he probably didn’t need much lube. I was more than ready for him. I’d have told him that, if I could’ve produced more than grunts and whimpers.
“Fucking perfect,” he said.
So was his dick finally pressing into me and his grip on my hips as he drove himself deeper and faster inside until we—and the bed—were rocking with every thrust. Felt so damn good. “Best birthday,” I whispered.
Drake answered by thrusting deep and holding himself there. “I want to do this every year. Fuck you at the beginning and at the end.”
I squirmed around him, wanting more of him, wanting this to never end—but needing so desperately to come. “Please!”
He gave me what I asked for, moving again, hard and with purpose while I worked my cock.
“Yeah, that’s it, Jon. You’re so fucking tight. Come on—do it. Come for me.”
I did, with a moan that was mostly breath. Jizz coated my fingers and his bedspread while he pounded into me, hitting me just right to keep the pleasure going and going.
“Fuck,” he moaned. “Oh God.” Then he was burying himself as deep as he could, and we collapsed together onto his bed.
After we caught our breath, he whispered in my ear, “How’d you like the bedroom tour?”
I huffed. “It’s a lovely bedspread. Let’s visit it more often.”
He vibrated with laughter.
Over the next couple weeks,Drake and I got into a routine of seeing each other when our schedules aligned, which was more often than I’d thought it might be. Yes, there were road trips that took one or the other or both of usout of town, but there were also days off, or non-game days when we got together. Sometimes, I’d drive to Pittsburgh and hang out with the Lions partners and spouses while watching Drake play. Several times, Drake came to Greensburg to watch me and the Otters. He got to know Ebba pretty well.
Hell, he dragged some of the bar patrons to games, too. Or maybe they took him—hard to tell. I do know that he managed to make it to the Otters Pride game, and the pool queens took it upon themselves to dress him for the occasion.
Those legs in fishnets? Oh my God, that would live in the fantasy file in my mental filing cabinet for a long time. And yes, I saved a whole bunch of photos.
The best part, though, was that we finally had our dinner date. And it was absolutely uneventful.
