Page 30 of Goalie Secrets
Jeremy is still lowered, sitting on his heels. His mouth and chin are drenched, glistening with my cum. Eyes lowered and nostrils flared, Jeremy is the most gloriously decadent sight of male need. He needsme.
That thought pushes everything else away. The shock and shame dissipate like clearing fog. In its place is another reality that demands my attention. Jeremy’s desire is clear. Although he doesn’t speak, his longing keeps us both under a powerful spell. At the edges of my delirium, I cling to one fact: onlyIcan take him where he’s aching to go. Only me.
That’s a dangerous thought, Vanya.
I shut out the warning, because nothing is more crucial than giving him pleasure, too. It makes me reckless.
“Take it out. I want to see you.” My every word is laced with desperation.
He chuckles darkly while tugging at his belt. The sound of his zipper is the sound of my undoing. When I see his thick cock, hard and insistent, something in me unfurls. A possessiveness so strong, it’s nearly painful. Jeremy Lopez is hard for me.Me.The realization is intoxicating.
“Is this what you want, Dr. Kapur? Me on my knees and desperate for you?”
My title on his lips should startle me. Instead, my core tightens. Most of his clothes are still in place, but Jeremy lets himself be as vulnerable as I feel. In this dark, underground space, both of us can explore what we know cannot be seen in the light of day. This cannot be happening.
This shouldn’t be happening.
He licks his lips. The pumps quicken. “You taste so good, Vanya. How am I supposed to last knowing how good my doctor’s pussy takes my tongue? Fuuuck, I can’t stop,” he pants.
It’s too much to witness something so sensual and vulnerable and gorgeous. My hand strays to where I felt his tongue. Arousal surges through me. I can’t help but press against the throbbing need that builds.
“That’s it. Get off on watching me fall apart for you.”
I stare in awe at the forbidden sight of Jeremy’s explosion. White ribbons shoot so high they hit my clothes and the bared skin of my upper thighs, marking me with their scorching heat. He does not look away while assaulting his dick with angry pumps. Longing floods his features even as he chases down a climax that goes far longer than I ever thought possible.
Drained and unraveled, he is nothing less than the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Bad doctor. Bad, bad, bad.
Forty days. That’s how much time has passed since I had the most erotic experience of my life while on my knees in a dark basement. I would have stayed on my knees all night for her. But that’s not what Dr. Vanya Kapur had in mind.
With words that had sounded fragmented and forced, Vanya got dressed and led me upstairs. I was in a daze. What could I do except follow her lead? This was her house, her body, her choices.
When my head finally hit my pillow that night, it wasn’t fatigue that lay with me. It was the memory of Vanya. Her smell and touch and taste. The memory alone made me so hard, I had to jerk off again.
Forty days, countless hard-ons, and a dozen therapy sessions later, I’m as pissed as I am aroused.
Like all the other appointments in November, today involves Vanya and at least one other person in the room. Under the pretense of training aspiring physiatrists or consulting with Kyle, she behaves like I’m a series of body parts to fix instead of a man whose tongue was deep in her pussy.
She probably ran out of people in the medical center to buffer our meetings, which is why the Mavericks head trainer is here.
She and Lionel are yapping away about knee ligaments and new techniques and some fancy tests developed in Chicago. Kyle and I are heading there next week for the only appointment we could book that didn’t interfere with the Mavericks game schedule.
Vanya only ever talks about work now, her voiceunwaveringly flat and aloof. Robotic, even. Not for the first time, I notice that she never engages in random small talk.
That’s not quite true. She has a lot of random things to say about musicals.
The thought makes me smile, because I miss that Vanya as much as I crave the woman whose body I can’t stop thinking about. Her willing submission is a gift. The smell of her hair and the shape of her lips. Everything about her heightens my senses. Her physical beauty, obviously, but other things intrigue me. The side of her she rarely shows the world—the one who talks about being a lonely kid in Toronto with musicals to keep her company—tugs at my compassion. Under her severe exterior is a person I want to know and a woman I want to impress.
After a while, the medical talk blends to blah, blah, blah. I’m not keeping up with their conversation, because I’m too distracted by Vanya’s aroma and too irritated by her goddamn indifference.
“The ultrasound is inconclusive with regards to his right hip. Kyle is taking him to Chicago next week for more advanced tests.”
I hate how she’s talking about me like I’m not here. That’s the other thing she does apart from avoiding my gaze. Vanya has not said my name since she screamed it mid-orgasm.
It’sMr. Lopezorhim. Never Jeremy. Not once in over a month have we talked about what happened.
I’ve been as understanding as possible about how delicate our situation is. She’s worried about her reputation at work. Got it. But am I supposed to fake amnesia? We did what we did. She needs to accept that our attraction is not going away any time soon. Instead of facing it head-on, she’s treating me like a problem she needs to solve with a goddamn committee of doctors and trainers. Nah. This is between us, and all these buffers are meaningless distractions.