Page 93 of The Wildest One

Urging it out of me.

Right at that moment, when the intensity was moving through me, the little fucking tingles that started in my balls and burst through my shaft, peaking, I shouted, “Fuck yes.”

And behind my eyelids, Jolie’s eyes locked with mine.

There was something so perfect about a woman holding your gaze when you filled her with your cum. It was that eye contact, the way you weren’t just giving her something you wanted, but she was taking something she had asked for that was so fucking sexy.

And Jolie always asked for it.

I didn’t block the stream as it shot from my tip. I didn’t try to catch it.

I just slid my palm up and down my dick, twisting out the cum, letting it hit my stomach, reaching as high as my chest.

Each load that landed, I moaned, “Jolie,” as though she were the one milking it out of me. And I didn’t stop until the very last drop was drained. “Mmm.”

My hand gently released my cock, my feet went straight, my arm reached back to grip the headboard, and I pulled myself up, glancing down my body to see the aftermath. There were drops of white everywhere, some creating small puddles as they rolled into the valleys between my abs.

I needed a shower.

I released the headboard and lay flat, waiting for the satiated feeling to take over, the calmness that normally came after I got off.

But it wasn’t there.

There was no fullness and no quietness.

It didn’t matter how much cum I beat out; unless Jolie was the one doing it, I was never going to be satisfied.

“I’m guessing you’re on your way to practice,” my sister said as I answered her call.

I turned down the volume of the speakers—a volume that had been perfect for music, but far too loud for Eden’s voice.

“What, are you tracking me?”

“Maybe.” She laughed. “But, no, I’m not.”

“What’s up?”

“I’m just checking on you.”

Of course she was.

I gripped the steering wheel and turned at the light, shaking my fucking head.

Through text, I’d filled my family in on the Jameson bomb. Not a single one of them could believe that Jolie and her father were the new owners of the Whales. They hit me with a slew of questions, but the one that was asked more than once was what would happen to us—and if there would be an us. I told them about the conversation Jolie and I had at my house, and their questions had seemed to die down a little.

But I knew it was only a matter of time before they started back up.

“Were you delegated to be the one to call and ask about Jolie?” When she didn’t say anything, I added, “I’m sure you’re all wondering how it’s going. I haven’t said much in the family text thread.”

“You haven’t said anything.”

“Because there’s shit to say.” I sighed. “I haven’t brought her over to the dark side yet.”

“Do you think you can?”

I let out another long breath. “I sure as hell hope so. Every day feels like this endless fucking tease.” Two cars ahead of me was a black Wrangler with chrome running boards, and I chuckled to myself. I couldn’t escape her. “I get why she would have reservations, and it would be complicated in the beginning—the team would eventually find out, her dad might have issues with us being together. I’m not sure. But, Eden, I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

“Is her being there affecting the way you’re playing?”