Then it grew longer. “Mmmm.” Then harder, louder, closer. “Mmm! Ohhh …”
Her heavy breathing was all I needed, and I didn't dare interrupt. I pumped my cock into my fist, a pressure rising from my balls, listening to her sexy moans until she brought me to the limit.
“I'm gonna cum,” I whispered into the phone. “I'm gonna cum so hard for you, Honor—!”
“Oh my God … oh my God … oh my God!” she panted, her voice urging me to climax with her.
“Fuck!” I roared, and I painted my pecs and abs with one streak of cum after another.
Then the storm had passed as quickly as it came, and the two of us were left wondering what the hell was supposed to come next. First? We had to catch our breaths.
“Um…Hunter?” she said at last.
“Yeah, baby?”
“We shouldn't do that again.”
I frowned. “But—”
The line went dead before I could say anymore.
Damn. Did I just scare her off? Fuck me.
This girl wanted me to be something more than I was. More than just a hockey player who wooed girls with my fame, my money. But at the end of the day? That's all I knew. That's all I was. A dumbass hockey player who couldn't keep his dick out of trouble.
I lifted my deflating cock, gave it an angry stare, and let it fall limp against my abs. It toppled like a fallen tree, splashing into a puddle of cum.
Fucking thing always gets me into trouble.
Chapter 13:
Whoops
Honor
I woke up with my head in a dense, swirling fog.
Am I sick?was my first thought.
And my second thought,oh, right. I'm hungover.
That was my punishment for staying at the bar with Cora and watching the entire game. We hadn't planned on watching the whole thing … and we certainly hadn't planned on getting as smashed as we did. But with the way the boys played against Montreal, crushing them 7-0? Well. It was easy to get carried away.
Carried away.That phrase echoed in my head, like a giant ringing bell, and a disturbing realization struck me.
Oh.
My.
God.
I had phone sex with Hunter Rockwell last night.
Hoping that memory was just a sick dream, I sat up and kicked my heavy comforter off my legs. But my worst fears were confirmed when I realized my bottom was nude. A deserted pair of panties laid between the bed and my body, pressed into a flat, wrinkled mess.
The memories came flooding back: I'd hastily yanked those panties off once Hunter started sweet talking me. Wait, 'sweet'talking? Is that how deluded I've become? He didn't sweet talk me at all; he just lured me in with the rhythmic tugs of his fist on hard flesh,wap wap wap,as he pleasured himself over the phone.
God, that was so dirty of him.
