I wanted to tell him not to call me Jakey and to give me the fucking pillow, right here, right now, like a little kid at a sleepover gone wrong. I wanted to wipe the smug lopsided smile off Trinsky’s stupid face, kick him out of the tent, and let him fend for himself.
Ugh. I just had to get through one night and?—
I frowned at the sound of a soft rumbly noise.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I grumbled, squinting in the dark at my roomie, lying on his back with two pillows under his head, snoring away.
My anger slipped as I studied Trinsky. His features softened in sleep, giving him a deceptively boyish look. He had a toughexterior with his copious tats, muscles galore, a crooked nose, and full lips.
The media called Trinsky charming yet cutthroat, disarmingly nice yet brutally cunning—public persona versus his reputation on the ice. I called him an annoying asshole ’cause it fit. And was there anything more annoying than being subjected to close quarters with an enemy who had the gall to claim that associating with him was good formycareer?
This entire situation pissed me off, but I had a bigger problem. I was still hard as a rock. In fact, my dick strained the elastic band of my boxer briefs. I cupped my shaft through my lightweight pajamas and squeezed.
Only the world’s biggest hypocrite would jerk off after giving a lecture about tent etiquette. I knew that. I really did. So I sucked in a deep breath and counted sheep, fingers still firmly wrapped around my pole, hoping to drift off to the sound of the big oaf sawing wood nearby.
No such luck. My cock pulsed insistently. It was uncomfortable as fuck, and no, I wasn’t going to do anything about it. I wasn’t. My hand was just…there. Touching, not stroking.
But after a minute of sweating it out, I had to make a strategic adjustment to avoid chafing.
I slipped my thumb under the elastic, slid my palm over my length, and—Fuck. It wouldn’t take much to come. Just a couple of strokes would do it.
I stole another peek at Trinsky as I oh-so stealthily gripped my throbbing cock and slowly dragged my fist up…and down. Up…and down. My nostrils flared, and my skin tingled everywhere. I tried to think super sexy thoughts to make this quick. Sure, I’d been on an epic dry spell for a while, but my brain could be trusted to conjure porn-worthy pert boobs in wet T-shirts, lacy thongs, and round asses.
Not this time. Trinsky was ruining this with his snoring. That had to be it.
I furrowed my brow, glaring at the insufferable lump in the shadows. He was so…obnoxious.Fuck those muscles and that pouty lower lip. Fuck his strong chin and that ridiculous dimple. Fuck his meaty forearms, his toned abs, and those chiseled V-lines pointing toward his cock like a neon sign. Just fuck him, fuck him, fuck him…
Oh, shit.I was coming…
And coming…
And coming.
Pleasure tingled along my spine, and white light clouded my vision as I shot ribbons of cum on my tee. I gasped with the force of my orgasm, trembling and doing my best not to make a sound.
Holy fuck.
I blinked wildly, licking my lips as I floated unsteadily back to Earth.
Trinsky’s rhythmic snoring cleared the remaining cobwebs. I glanced at his sleeping form, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. Too many things to count at the moment, starting with my cum-stained tee.
I yanked it over my head and cleaned up as quietly as possible. I braced myself for a long restless night but immediately fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
8
JAKE
“Yo, Sleeping Beauty, rise and shine. We got a problem.”
I groaned, rubbing my eyes as I sat up. “What time is it?”
Trinsky crouched on his side of the tent, his back to me. His broad shoulders threatened the integrity of his light-blue T-shirt as he expertly rolled his sleeping bag. My gaze slipped to his snug khaki shorts and?—
Oh, no. No, no, no.I had to pull it together. What happened last night could not happen again…ever.
“Nine o’clock.”
“Nine o’clock!” I wiggled out of my sleeping bag in a rush, dragging a hand through my hair. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
