Page 26 of These Wicked Games (Wicked Sins #1)

Arguing with the man who’s about to suck your dick is not the smartest thing to do.

He could bite me, and it kind of looks like he wants to.

Instead, he stretches his lips around my girth, sucking so fucking slow.

He hums. My head falls back. A guttural groan slips out of me.

I clutch my arm over my stomach feeling that wet heat hug me like the sweetest embrace, his tongue lapping and teasing under my head when he tongues under my foreskin.

Velvet soft suction. Warm wet heat. His free hand cups my balls, giving them a squeeze.

It’s good, so fucking good. It’s not enough, though. Not even close.

I grip his hair hard, and his yelp is muffled by my cock stuffing that smart mouth.

“You like this, huh?” His eyes look up at me.

“If I knew all it would take to shut that smart fucking mouth was to stuff my cock in it, I’d have done this years ago.

” He taps my thighs, but I don’t want to hear him speak.

Instead, I press his head closer to me, driving my dick down his throat.

His nose presses into my pubes as I cut off his air.

He chokes, but I don’t let up. His palms could push me away, but instead his nails bite into my thighs, pulling me closer.

I pull out. Spit drips down his face. “So fucking messy.” I slap his face.

He moans at the contact. Watery eyes gaze up at me.

I grab my dick, slapping it against the side of his mouth. “Open up.”

With his hair in my fists, I slip inside that sweet heaven.

I begin to thrust, not being mindful at all of the gagging, the choking.

Fuck, I love it. His eyes drip with need, and drool spills out of the corners of his lips.

I want to go harder and wait for him to tap out, but instead he grips my thighs, guiding me to the back of his throat.

Tears stream down his face. Drool. He mumbles something, looking up, and it’s now I see his hand moving.

I pull out, and spit and precum trickles down his chin. My cock is soaked with it. I look down, seeing Andre has flipped his dick and balls out of his briefs and is fisting himself. “Don’t stop.” The rough, used edge to his voice makes my cock jerk.

“Open up.”

Obeying, he sticks his tongue out and I slide back into that pretty mouth.

Red and swollen. Andre moans around my dick, and I look down, watching his hand work himself.

I’ve never seen another guy’s cock like this.

Andre is longer, but not as thick as me.

The head glistens with precum. His free hand comes up, cupping my balls and giving them a slight squeeze, tugging me gently with each thrust. They tighten in his hand.

By the frantic pace of his hand he’s almost there too.

“Suck harder.”

He listens, sucking harder with every rough thrust. I’m losing my mind. I let go of his hair before cradling the sides of his face, my thumbs pressing against his jaw as I fuck myself down his throat. I push him onto me, making him gag. I’m going to come. I’m going to lose it .

“Andre.”

A slight whine sounds. He tenses, sucking harder. I unleash down his throat, holding him to me as he sputters and chokes.

When he's drank every drop, I straighten, pulling out slowly. Andre is heaving, looking up at me. I pull out and look at the mess I’ve made. Cum and spit drip down his chin and he’s breathing hard. I look down and see his spent cock and the mess it’s made on the bathroom floor.

Reality bitch slaps me.

This is Andre. Andre fucking Tavares.

I fucking hate him.

“Oli, wait—”

I grab my pants, pulling them on. I forget my shirt is in tatters when I leave the bathroom, and it sinks in now what the fuck I’ve done.

What the fuck. I . . . I let . . . Fuck.

Going to my bag, I unzip it, finding the first shirt I can and pulling it on.

Fucking hell. What did I just do? It was like something dark rolled through me.

Filled me. Consumed me. “Kuli—” I look up at his voice. My name comes out rough.

Rough because I fucked his throat raw.

I have no words; I can’t think straight. Instead of saying anything, I swipe my phone off the dresser before storming toward the door. “Are you fucking joking me?” Andre snaps. I can’t say anything. My mind is shutting down. Everything is getting too muffled. My chest is tight. Tears sting my eyes.

I open the door and leave, storming down to Grey and Atlas’s room. I need space. I need—fuck, what do I need?

Swallowing hard, I don’t know whether to scream, cry, or punch something. I want to do any number of other things except think about the way Andre sucked me, savored me. The way he moaned as he fucked his fist to the feel of my cock in his mouth.

“Fuck!” I find Grey’s room, banging hard on the door. I hope they’re back. The game was nearly over when we left the arena. I just hope they came back right after the game instead of going out. We most likely lost.

“What the fu—”Atlas pulls the door open, black brows pinched. “Kuli?” I storm inside. “The fuck happened to you?”

“I need to sleep here tonight.” I can’t be around Andre. I don’t trust myself.

“What’s going . . . Holy shit, Kuli, what the fuck happened to you?” Grey asks.

“What?”

“Your face. Looks like you got into a fight.” Shit, I forgot that’s how all this bullshit started. How am I going to explain this? It feels like I have the words “Andre sucked my dick” written across my face.

“Are you still fighting with Andre?” Atlas shakes his head. “You guys are going to cost us if you don’t figure this out. Tonight was bullshit!” His anger is surprising, the shame I feel is not.

I look to Grey who’s eying me weirdly. “What’s wrong, Oliver?” I don’t like the way he uses my full name. It’s what my mother used to do when she wanted to pry information out of me.

“I just can’t stay in that room with him. Please.” I’m slowly losing it. It’s like watching an accident happen in real time, and I’m just standing there, too numb to do anything about it.

“You guys really got into a fight?” Grey’s brow furrows. All I can do is nod. I can’t look at him. Grey has a way of getting everyone’s secrets .

Atlas snorts, clapping me on the back. “Just let us know he’s still alive. We can’t lose another goalie.” He laughs.

I don’t have it in me to joke. I’m falling apart at the poorly sewn seams. “Can I shower?” Although I took one before we left the arena, I need the steam to clear my head.

Grey’s smoky eyes examine me a moment before he goes to his bag and pulls out a pair of sweats. “Go ahead. Shower. Hang the towel up when you’re done.”

“Thanks.” I head to the bathroom, catching Grey’s eyes as I pass. Something fills them, but I can’t go down that road right now. I’m not sure what’s happening, but I sure as shit need to figure it out before I let anyone in—if I let anyone in. If I can even make sense of it.

Ignoring the look my best friend gave me, I strip down in their bathroom, then I step under the spray, turning it as hot as my nerve endings will allow. It’s only when steam clouds the bathroom that I let my mind slip, and I know I’m so fucked.

Hazel eyes, dripping with want.

Swollen lips.

Cum dripping down his face. My cum.

I realize I’m stroking myself before I can stop it. Pressing my head against the cool tile, I let myself drown in the memory of it. Andre with watery eyes, stroking himself, mouth full of my cock. “Fuck.” I unleash against the shower wall, hating myself more than ever.

I collapse against the cool tile, squeezing my eyes shut, but all I can see are his hazel eyes.

I am so fucked.