by Paige North
“You may be inexperienced, Lucy, but I’m starting to think you’re far from innocent,” he says, ducking his head down to kiss my neck. I sigh and stretch back so he can have more access to my throat. He bites at me lightly, and when I jump, he tightens his grip, holding me against him. He pulses his cock up against me slightly, until I exhale in want, despite knowing that a second round with him so soon would probably be a bad idea.
“See? That’s not very innocent,” he growls into my ear, then slides one hand between my thighs. He massages my pussy for a few moments, heavy handed in a way that makes me wetter without threatening an orgasm. “You really think you’re ready to really suck my cock? For me to come in your pretty little mouth?”
“Yes,” I whisper, even though I’m not totally sure, and kiss him. He kisses me back, fierce and hard, then stands up, lifting me along with him. He slowly lowers my feet to the floor, till I’m standing.
“On your knees,” Gabe commands me. I drop so fast that it almost makes me lightheaded. He’s so much taller than me that I’m a little worried I won’t be able to really suck on him, but Gabe seems unconcerned— and I know he’ll move me if that’s the case.
He’s the one in charge, after all, so it’s a problem I don’t have to worry about. That freedom stirs a new rush of arousal in me, which is doubled when Gabe reaches down and brushes my hair behind my shoulders.
I lift my fingers and tentatively take hold of the button on his pants, keeping my eyes on his as I undo it, then his zipper. His cock immediately presses through the space in his boxers, flicking against my lips as it’s revealed.
I’m embarrassed, but Gabe looks pleased. He reaches down and pushes his boxers down, so there’s nothing at all but his cock and waist directly in front of me. I carefully wrap the fingers of my right hand around it, then my left. There are still several inches free at the top of my fisted hands.
“Put me in your mouth,” Gabe says, and gently pushes the back of my head forward. I open my lips and slide the tip of Gabe’s cock into my mouth, where it hardens even more. The sensation makes my pussy quiver, even though he’s nowhere near it.
“Now, Lucy,” Gabe says gutturally. “I have to warn you— I can’t wait to come down your throat. And you — fuck,” he swallows hard on the last word, because I’ve begun pumping my mouth up and down on him. I slowly remove one of my hands from his cock, trying to take more into my mouth, though it’s difficult, especially as he continues to get harder.
Gabe fists my hair, encouraging me with gentle pushes to take more and more of him. I can taste saltiness on my tongue, the taste of sweat and come and him, and I’m about to try and force him down my throat when he pulls me away from him.
“Wait,” he says, breathing heavy. “I want to teach you right, so you learn just how to suck me off.”
“Am I not doing it right?” I ask worriedly, my mouth feeling oddly empty now.
Gabe smiles down at me. “Baby, you’re doing great. But now I want you to kiss down the side of my cock.”
I nod at him, take the tip of his cock in my hand to keep it steady, then kiss and lick down the side, all the way to where his cock ends in a flush of warm skin and dark hair. Gabe is breathing steadily and heavily now— it’s not the excitement of an orgasm, but the deep, hungry pace of arousal. I start kissing my way back up his cock, this time dragging my tongue along the underside as I go.
“Very good,” Gabe moans. “Very good, sweet girl. You have such a fuckable mouth, Lucy.”
I nearly choke at his words— no one’s ever said anything like that to me before, but I like it. I lick up and down him again, then dare to let my tongue dart out to lick beneath his cock, at his swollen balls. He exhales, moaning when I do it again.
“Alright,” he says taking a long breath. “Tilt your head back— yes, good. Don’t fight me, baby.” I tilt my head as he’s told me, but I’m not quite sure what he means about fighting him. Why would I? He positions himself closer to me, then slides his cock into my mouth. I massage it with my tongue, keeping my eyes open so I can watch him watching me. He pushes in a bit deeper, inch by inch, until his cock has filled my mouth and forced me to breathe through my nose. I almost gag on him, but manage to tamp down the reflex; Gabe seems to know it’s happening and waits…then pushes in deeper.
I feel his cock in the back of my throat, then deeper, farther. I can’t move for fear of somehow disrupting the delicate balance of him so deep in my mouth, so I focus on breathing, on relaxing my throat to let him continue in…another inch, another. A wicked, lustful looks spreads across Gabe’s face, and he finally slides in one more inch. My lips strike against his groin, and I realize I have all of him— all nine inches, at least— in my throat.
“There you go,” Gabe says, stroking my hair and pulsing ever so slightly in me, a gentle, sweet fucking. I want to ask him if I’m doing it right, but I can’t speak.
From the look on his face, though— contorted in pleasure, forehead slick with sweat— I think I’m doing just fine. He begins to slide his cock a bit farther out as he fucks me, and I’m pleased that my throat stays relaxed, eager to take him back in.
Gabe moans and grabs my head tightly. I can feel his strength through his grip, can feel how powerful he is. The fact that I’ve aroused someone so strong is an enormous turn on, and I moan through my full lips. Gabe quivers against me when I do.
“Okay,” he says, panting. He stills, then carefully pulls his cock from my mouth. I take long gulps of air, still looking up at him, eager to know what he’ll want from me next. His cock is hard in front of me; I kiss it gently on the head as I wait for his instructions. “Suck on me. Not deep— just the head. That’s the most sensitive. And Lucy?”
“Mmm?” I ask as I continue to tongue his cock.
“Be ready. I’m going to come hard.”
I grin in anticipation, then swallow the head of his cock and begin to furiously pump my lips up and down his shaft. As much as I liked having him so deep in my throat, I love that I can feel every contour, every vein, every quiver with my tongue. I swirl my tongue around his head between strokes, then wrap my hands around the base of his shaft again, pumping them in time with my head.
Gabe groans and grabs my head again, nearly bending over me— I can feel him trembling, can feel the tension and need for release building in him. I go harder. I want him to come. I want him to feel as good as I feel when we’re together. I want to be responsible for his pleasure, and I want him to fill my mouth—
“Lucy,” he gasps, but that’s all he manages before a long, low groan pours from his mouth. His cock trembles in my mouth, and wrap my lips tightly around him. He fills my mouth with hot liquid, thrusting involuntarily as he comes, forcing me to swallow not one, but two mouthfuls of him. He growls as his orgasm ends. I pull away from his cock, then lick it up and down, cleaning anything that remains off of him. He shakes at my touch and, when I’m done, sinks down to his knees in front of me.
Gabe kisses me appreciatively, pulling me close to him as he does so. His erection, still hard but slowly fading, presses against my ribcage. He’s sweating, and his pupils are dilated and wild.
“You didn’t need much instruction,” he says between kisses. “How are you so good at sucking my cock, Lucy?”
“I just wanted to do it so much, I think,” I suggest.
He smiles against my mouth, then kisses me again. “I’m going to need to repay you for that orgasm.”
“After dinner?”
“I don’t think I can wait that long,” he says, then slides a hand down my side. I part my legs and let him have me, certain that this isn’t going to change anytime soon. Gabe Forest can have me, and I can have him. Even if it’s only in secret.
Chapter 10
There’s no use pretending anymore: I’m with Gabe. He’s with me. We’re together. An item. A couple.
Behind closed doors, anyway.
It’s too complicated for us to tell anyone we’re together— for
me, anyway. Gabe has made it clear that he doesn’t care who knows, but his “fuck them if they have a problem with it” attitude isn’t one I can adopt. My dad would lose his mind. My mom would forcibly put one of those birth control things in my arm.
And Chandler….
My parents are still expecting me to play nice with the Harrison clan till my dad’s election is over. I’m hoping that playing along will earn me a lot of brownie points later on, when I reveal that Gabe and I are an item. Besides, it’s not like I’m doing anything physical with Chandler. We’re not even going on dates— we’re just texting very occasionally and seeing each other at politician-kid-friendly events.
Like, um, Gabe’s football games.
My family and I are now regulars in the Harrisons’ VIP box, which means I’m at every home game. I have to admit: I love it. It takes three games, and some pillow talk instruction from Gabe, before I have a clue what’s going on, but by early November I am one of the obnoxious football fans that I used to hate.
“I had no idea you were going to end up loving this so much,” Chandler laughs, bopping the pom on top of my Harton green winter cap. I grin and accept a glass of white wine from him. My parents would lose their minds if they caught me drinking beer, but wine? Why, that’s class. Chandler and I clink our glasses together and return to watching the game; I see my father and Buck Harrison giving one another knowing glances on the other side of the box.
“What are you doing after the game?” Chandler asks cheerfully while we wait through a time out.
“Just going home,” I say. Going home because as soon as Gabe is done, he’ll come by and fuck me. It looks like Harton is going to win this game, which is excellent— sex with Gabe is even better when he’s high off a win. Though, when he was angry about the team’s single loss this season, that was actually pretty great, too. He was quieter, more demanding, more animal-like when he turned me over and spanked me—
“You should come by our place,” Chandler says, snapping me back to the present. “I have some friends coming over. It won’t be a politician’s party, I promise.”
“Oh, thanks. Maybe next time, though?” I say.
“That’s what you said last time,” Chandler says in a playful, admonishing way.
“That’s how you answered me saying that last time,” I poke back, and Chandler laughs, then points to the field.
“Uh-oh. Your problem child is at it again,” he says.
I follow his finger to see that Gabe is posturing toward a player from the other team. They’re bumping chests now, throwing arms back, and the referee between them looks like a kitten caught between lions.
“Not again,” Buck Harrison groans, shaking his head.
“This kid is a lawsuit waiting to happen. Makes me sorry I’m not litigating anymore!” my dad jokes, though no one else laughs— we’re too focused on what’s happening on the field. The other player is clearly trying to walk away, but Gabe keeps luring him back with more shouts and taunts. We’re in the second half— if Gabe gets thrown out of this game, he won’t be allowed to play for the first half of the next game, which is a big one.
“See, this is the problem, Buck, like I was saying,” Mrs. Harrison says in her bright Southern accent. “We get these boys that love to hit, then we don’t know how to rein them in when that pops out at an inopportune time.”
“To be fair, all the other boys seem to be holding themselves back, though,” my mother points out. She affects something of her own Southern accent when we’re with the Harrisons, which annoys me, but she’d deny it if I brought it up.
“True, true,” Buck says. “Oh— here we go.”
The coaches from both sides are swarming, arguing with the referees. The defensive line has come out to hold Gabe back— they’re just as big as him, but it’s clear they’re having to work hard to keep him from slipping their grips. The referees confer, there’s a chorus of boo-ing in the stands— from both sides— and then—
“Number eighty-five, Gabe Forest. Ejection due to fighting and unsportsmanlike behavior,” the referee says over the speaker system. The crowd explodes, cheers and boos, a few “that’s right!”s and “get out of here!”s rising from the masses.
“Oh, Gabe,” I say, shaking my head.
“You look genuinely crushed,” Chandler Harrison says curiously. I try to swallow whatever that look is, because Chandler’s eyes are a touch too appraising right now.
“Well, it just sucks. He’s better than that,” I say quickly, with a shrug.
“Really? Because everyone I know who’s run into him says he’s pretty much a bull in a china shop,” Chandler says warily, still giving me that look. Has he figured it out? Does he know? I can’t tell and it’s making my stomach twirl.
“Well, he is. I mean, I guess— we don’t know each other that well,” I hurry on. “I mean, it’s like your dad said. He’s big and aggressive and tough and whatever, and that’s what makes him good at this game. But he does know how to hold it all in and calm down.” I mean, the fact that he was able to be so gentle with me the first few times we had sex is a testament to that.
“Really? Like, give me an example,” Buck Harrison says. I jump, surprised that he’s entered the conversation.
“Oh, well, nothing specific comes to mind,” I say, smiling— now my parents are looking at me too, everyone waiting to hear about how Gabe Forest isn’t a total disaster. “I’m just saying, he isn’t all fights and…ejections.”
“Well, he’s no good to us getting thrown out. He’d better learn to keep himself cool if he wants to keep playing for us. I have to wonder if this is why he didn’t play his senior year of high school, why he’s a walk on instead of a scouted kid— any insight into that, Miss RA?” Buck asks.
I’d honestly forgotten about this— I remember Gabe telling me the first night we were together that the story of why he didn’t play his senior year was a story for another time, but that time never came. I shrug. “Maybe he just wanted a year off.”
“Not really how football works, Lucy,” Chandler says, nudging me.
“And not how life works either. If that boy wants the NFL, he can’t take these games off, much less years off, and much less for something fool-headed as fighting. You think anyone in the NFL is going to hire him if they think he might cost them a million dollars in fines every game?” Buck asks.
“He plays really well. Maybe he’s worth the risk,” I suggest, even though I know I sound ridiculous.
“Not hardly,” Chandler scoffs. “But what do you expect? We keep making this sport bigger, harder, more aggressive. Eventually we’re going to get people that reflect the game, you know?”
“Very true. It’s not a thinking man’s game anymore, that’s for sure,” my father says, nodding, as if he’s ever thought about football before this season. “Starting to feel like we’re watching dog fighting, isn’t us? A bunch of animals, going at it.”
“Don’t be such an ass. That’s a terrible thing to say,” I snap before thinking better of it. Everyone’s eyes widen; my father’s do so with a hint of anger. Talking to him like that, period, is a bad idea. Doing it in front of a powerful donor? Really bad idea.
Buck Harrison breaks the silence with a short laugh. “Your girl is going to want to start painting her face like those kids in the student section, Shaw. You’re a fiery one, Lucy.”
“Nice to see someone as into the game as I am,” Chandler says by way of defending me, and puts an arm around my shoulders. I’m not into Chandler at all, but I appreciate his support. Our parents go back to their own conversations, leaving Chandler and I alone on our side of the box balcony.
“So seriously, back to what we were talking about before Gabe Forest went all Gabe Forest— come over after the game. Please?” Chandler asks.
“I…” I stall.
“I promise to be a gentleman. No getting drunk. Hands here the whole time. Is that the issue?” Chandler asks, holding his palms up in the air with a joking g
rin. I can see, though, that there’s a little bit of hurt underneath it.
“That’s not the issue,” I tell him. “Really, I just need to study.”
Chandler sighs and shakes his head, and his eyes morph from a hurt expression to a frustrated one. “Look, Lucy. I like you. And my parents like you. And your parents like me. And neither of us are seeing anyone. So…if you’re not interested, just tell me, because this is getting exhausting.”
I blanch for a moment, scrambling for excuses. “It’s not— it’s not you or anything. It’s just I’m not…um…I’m not really in a place where I can be in a relationship right now.”
“Really? Because my mom told me you’re single, and you know my family has a reputation for vetting the hell out of people,” Chandler says, looking doubtful.
“I am single. I mean— yes. I am,” I say hurriedly, knowing anything else will lead to more questions than I can answer. I mean, what would I even say? I’m not exactly single— I’m sleeping with that guy that just got ejected from the game for fighting?
“Then look— come over after the game. Let’s hang out, and just…see. You hardly know me. Other than that one date, that you bailed on early, we’ve barely even been around each other without those guys,” he says, jerking a finger toward our parents. “If we spend some time together and you’re not into me, fine, ok, and I’ll stop bugging you about it.”
“Yeah, but will my parents stop bugging me?” I say, only half joking. Chandler laughs, but I can tell from the sound that he’s also only half joking. I feel a twinge of camaraderie with Chandler, in that moment. I know exactly what it is, to be in a place where it’s far easier to just date the person your parents are foisting on you than to wiggle out of it.
“One hour,” Chandler says. “One hour. My friends will be there. It will be fun. You can’t get that much studying done in an hour anyway. It’s a PR degree, how much time can learning to use Twitter take?”