Page 79 of One More Dare
“Fuck, that’s so sexy,” he mutters, sounding close himself.
“You like me covering your sweatshirt in my cum?” I manage to ask, voice still raspy as I come down from the high of my release.
“Yeees.” His body jerks as he spills over his hand, coming with a loud groan.
For a moment, we’re both silent, the sounds of our panting filling the room between us. Then he slowly brings the phone back up to his face. He’s flushed and messy and beautiful, and I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone more.
“Wow,” he says finally, his voice still low.
“Yeah,” I agree, a lazy grin spreading across my face. “Wow.”
“How was that for you?”
“Amazing,” I admit. There’s no point pretending that I don’t enjoy every time we hook up.
“So, so good. Holy shit,” he agrees, chuckling lightly to himself like he can’t believe that just happened. For a moment, we just smile at each other as the post-orgasmic haze settles over us. “Grab a washcloth and clean yourself up, P. Pretend it’s me doing it.”
I shake my head, but I can’t get rid of my smile as I do what he says. When I settle back into my bed, cleaned up and in a silk sleep set, his smile grows, like he’s proud of me for listening or something. But that’s a stupid thought so I ignore it.
“Tomorrow I’ll be back, and I can come over if you want?” he offers.
“Maybe,” I respond noncommittally like I’ve been trying to. Setting plans feels too much like dating. The more spontaneous dares help remind me what we are.
“Get some sleep, P. You’re going to need it. I’ll see you soon.”
He just means so he can keep me up tomorrow to fuck me,I remind myself. “Night, Will.”
“Night, Porter.”
34
WILL
Ishould be focused on this game right now, but all I can think about is fucking Porter. I’d been thinking about it a lot before then, but since our call last night, it’s basically the only thing on my mind. The vision of sinking my dick into his tight hole has had me half chubbed all night and all morning, despite my orgasm while Nathan was out.
The sooner we win this game, the sooner we’ll be on the bus back. And the better we do, the happier everyone will be, so I need to focus. The last thing I want is for a bus ride back with the guys being pissed off and sulking about a loss we shouldn’t have.
I’m also getting closer and closer to scoring my one hundredth career point, which is a huge deal, so I can’t start slacking now. I want to text Porter good numbers after the game for goals and assists, too. I know he doesn’t really give a shit about lacrosse, but I still like the idea of bragging a little bit and seeming good at what I do.
We just scored even though I was no help, so we reset for the face-off. The whistle blows, and Decker is fighting for the ball in the center. He comes up with it, and we make our way backdown the field to their goal. We were a little flat in the first half, but now we’re picking it up.
I cut across the field, my stick raised, calling for the pass. Decker sees me and launches it over. I catch it, cradling the ball as I sprint toward the net. Their defense collapses in on me, but I fake left, then spin right, creating just enough space to rifle a shot past the goalie’s shoulder. The net ripples, and my teammates swarm me.
Most goals aren’t that easy, but I love when they are.
“Nice one, Carter!” My teammates clap my helmet as we jog back to midfield to do it all over again. This is the momentum we need.
They win the next face-off, so we’re forced to defend our goal. One of their guys tries to beat me to the net, but I press up against him, checking his stick, and he loses control, but he beats me to the ground ball. Shit.
The guy I’m covering passes to a teammate, and they manage to get a shot off, but our goalie saves it. Another one of our middies breaks free from his defender for our goalie to clear the ball to him, and we start making our way back down the field.
Two minutes later, I have possession of the ball again, and am able to position myself behind the net when I spot Andrews cutting to the crease. I whip the ball around the corner, and he catches it mid-stride, burying it before the goalie can react. Another assist for me.
The game continues like this—a back and forth battle, but we’re gaining momentum to make up for our shit first half. With thirty seconds left, we’re up by one. They’ve got the ball, pushing hard. I’m covering my guy, stick up, when I see the pass coming. I intercept it and immediately break for their goal. Time seems to slow as I get closer, and the goalie charges out. I fake a shot, then dodge around him, tapping the ball into the empty net with ten seconds left on the clock.
The final whistle blows, and I let out a relieved sigh—we’ve won. There’s no way they’re going to come back in seconds, meaning I’ll finish with three goals and two assists. Putting me at ninety-eight career points, so fucking close to the one hundredth point milestone.
As we’re walking off the field, Coach pulls me aside. “Will, hell of a game today. Especially in the second half.”
