I slipped my thumb into her pussy, rubbing her clit with my cum-covered fingers. “Holy shit, Royce.”
“It’s Harlan or Daddy,” I gritted out. “You like when Daddy fills you with his cum, don’t you? But it’s not enough, is it?”
“No,” she moaned. “God, I need more.”
I wiggled my thumb inside her and swirled my fingertips around her clit as fast as I could, my forearm burning, all while keeping a tender hand on her hip. “Do you like when Daddy finger fucks his cum back into you?”
She edged her heels wider, her hips starting to buck along with my fingers. “It’s perfect,” she managed.
“That’s right. You’re so fucking good for me, Em. What made you get on your knees for me?”
“It was hot when you helped me.”
A smile broke over my face, sweat beading at my brow. “I’ll always try to be here when you need me.”
Her hand covered mine on her hip, desperate eyes searching for me. I leaned over her back and kissed her. “I got you.”
With a few harder snaps of her hips and her hand on my cheek where we were basically lying on the counter, her pussy convulsed around my fingers. “There you go. My good girl.”
“Holy shit,” she breathed.
I kissed the side of her face. “You know, you don’t have to blow me for helping you.”
She winked at me and laughed. “I think maybe I just wanted to blow you anyway.”
“Woo, Royce is on fire!”Cap skated behind my net, right after I stopped another of his shots in practice. “What have you been eating lately, man? What diet turns you into a brick wall?”
“More likewhohas he been eating?” Owen added.
Fuck, what did Owen know? He knew I was taking the private lessons. He accused me of liking her because of the interview video, but I’d been careful not to tell him more. It felt weird not telling him, but it wasn’t just about me. Not that Owen would blab on purpose, but I wanted to keep to my secret pact with Emma.
And anyway, his question should have been, who was eating me, because that was what had just occurred to make me “on fire.” Some guys can’t come around games. Some guys have to nut or their game will undoubtedly suffer. I’d never noticed a huge correlation, but getting off feels good so, hey, why not?
But today Chef—Emma—got on her knees for me and it was easily the best head I’d ever gotten.
I shot Owen a weird look. “What are you talking about, man?”
“I don’t know. You’ve been acting weird. I feel like you’re seeing someone.”
I scoffed. “Mind your biz.”
Leroy blasted a puck past me while I was arguing with Owen.
I looked to my right to find Leroy leaning on his stick. “Why’d you do that?” I asked.
He spit on the ice and skated my way. “Had to prove you’re not a brick wall.” He circled around the back of the net and appeared on the other side. “Kid.”
“This is a supportive environment, Leroy,” Sorrento said.
“What? If he gets a big head, we’ll lose,” Leroy countered.
I could work with that. “That’s so interesting, because your mom said I had a big head last night when I was?—”
A puck clipped my helmet.
I shook it off. “Dick.”
Cordero skated up and lowered his voice. “That’s crazy, because that’s what your mom was begging me for last night.”