Once her orgasm subsides, I give her no time to recover, flipping her so she’s face down on the bed. Her chest is pressed to the mattress, but I spread her legs and angle her ass up slightly and slide back in.
She moans in approval. She feels fucking phenomenal.
I slam into her again and again, my movements becoming jerky as my balls tighten and the base of my spine begins to tingle.
“Come on me,” she cries out, sounding desperate.
Her words alone push me over the edge so I pull out completely and rip the condom off, choking my dick in my hand and pumping until I come all over her ass cheeks.
The only sound in the room is of our breaths, both trying to come down from the high we just experienced.
I’m still breathing heavily as I make my way to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and get a washcloth to clean her up. When I return, she’s still in the same position as when I left and because she’s looking in the opposite direction, all I see is a mass of blonde hair, not a set of blue eyes.
I realize I’m nervous about how she’s going to behave now that we’ve had sex. Is she going to want to leave immediately?
Using the warm washcloth, I start to wipe my seed from her perfect ass. Jesus, I hope that’s not the last time I get to do that.
She turns her head so she faces me. “Thank you.”
“Least I can do.” I give her a chagrined look, and she chuckles.
Time to shoot my shot.
“You’re going to stay the night?” I ask.
At first, I fear she’s going to say no because she doesn’t respond, but she nods a minute later.
“Excellent.” I toss the washcloth and it lands in the laundry hamper beside the dresser.
“Maybe you should explore basketball instead of hockey,” Kelsey says.
I chuckle while I move up the bed and she follows suit. We end up under the covers, cuddled together, and it’s only minutes before I drift to sleep with a content feeling in my chest I’ve never had before.
10
Kelsey
Brock is in his kitchen making coffee. It’s the first time since I arrived last night that I haven’t been in his presence, and the separation grants me a moment to reflect on exactly what I did last night and what I started.
My heart starts to beat faster, my nerves on edge.
I like Brock—a lot. There’s way more to him than I could have guessed and so far everything I’ve discovered, I like. Not to mention the sexual chemistry between us is off the charts.
So why do I have a pit in my stomach?
For all I know, this could be a one-night thing for him. He scratched the itch and now he’s ready to move on. And wouldn’t that be a best-case scenario for me?
Getting involved with Brock will only cause more of the same to happen with the public and it’ll not only make my job more difficult, but cause people to question my integrity. Will I really be able to call Brock out on a bad game or poor behavior if I’m his girlfriend?
That’s assuming he even would want that. This could easily be a hit it and quit it for him, too.
But if that’s what I’m hoping for, then why does that thought cause my chest to ache?
I sigh and fall back against the pillow in the bed.
Either way, I’m screwed.
“What was that for?” Brock walks into the room with two steaming mugs. The scent of coffee wafts over to me as he walks to my side of the bed to hand me my mug.
I sit up and take it from him. “Thank you.”
“Avoiding my question?” He arches an eyebrow over the rim of the mug when he takes a sip.
I consider lying to him and making something up, but remind myself that I’m an adult and that if I want to know something, I just need to ask.
“Truthfully?”
He nods.
“I was trying to decide whether I hoped you saw last night as a one-time thing or whether it meant more to you.”
God, that’s hard to say out loud and now that I did and he’s looking at me with surprise, I wish I hadn’t. But a moment later, he smiles and sets his coffee down on the nightstand and sits down on the side of the bed so he’s facing me.
“Since we’re being honest with each other… I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. Not at all. I think there’s something between us worth exploring. Don’t you?”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” I sigh.
He chuckles. “So, you were hoping I’d say this was a one-night stand?”
I set my coffee down beside his and raise my hands in the air. “That’s the thing, I don’t know what I want. Part of me does because that would make my life easier, but the other half of me doesn’t because…” I draw in a breath for courage. “Because I really like you.” I say the last part quickly, like he’d miss that part.
“What was that?” Brock puts his finger to his ear with a smirk. “Can you say that again, please? I thought I heard you say that you like me.”
I swat at his hand. “You did. And I do. It’s just… there’s a lot I have to consider.”
His forehead creases. “Such as?”
“For starters, the fact that it’s my job to be impartial when I report on you doing your job. That’s gonna be hard if we’re sleeping together. And even if I did, no one would believe I could be impartial. And what if I said something you didn’t like? Would that carry into our relationship and cause problems?”
He nods thoughtfully, and it’s like he’s working over the problem in his brain. “Okay, what else?”
“How did you know there was more?”
“You wear your emotions on your face. It’s easy to tell you’re still finding things to stress about.”
I cross my arms. “Pardon me if I take my career seriously.”
Brock shakes his head and leans over, tugging the sheet up to cover my breasts. “I can’t have a serious conversation with you when your nipples are exposed. Way too distracting.”
I smile and cup his cheek before he pulls away, using my other hand to hold up the sheet. “It’s probably hard for you to understand because of the position you’re in, but getting where I am has been an uphill battle. I’m a woman in a man’s world. And a lot of men—not all—but a lot, think that the larger your cup size, the fewer brain cells you have. That I might only be good enough to be on my knees.”
He scowls. “Are you telling me some douchebags have tried to get in your pants in exchange for helping your career?”
I guffaw. “Of course they have.”
I like that he doesn’t ask me whether I’ve ever given in. I haven’t—but I don’t judge those who have. And things are changing, but not as fast as they need to.
“That’s bullshit.” He looks truly gobsmacked. “I’ve heard of the casting couch, of course I have. I just… I don’t know. I didn’t really think it was a thing that happened in the field of journalism.”
“The point is, I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove that I’m more than just tits and ass. And when I say my whole life, I mean ever since puberty.”
Brock reaches for my hand. He must be right about me wearing my emotions because he can clearly see how upset talking about it makes me.