Common Goal (Game Changers #4)- Rachel Reid Page 0,113

and famous, move to a private island, and never see a hockey jersey ever again.

* * *

Ryan was pretty sure he had an ugly dick.

The guy jacking off on Ryan’s laptop screen right now had a great-looking dick. It was long and straight and not too thick. It was all smooth and cut, with perfectly hairless balls. The shaft jutted proudly out of a tidy patch of dark curls.

Ryan’s dick was thick and red, and the hair that surrounded it was even more red. He tried to keep on top of grooming the area, but his pubic hair was as unruly as the hair that covered his head and face. His balls seemed too large and kind of saggy. His dick poked out of a lumpy sleeve of foreskin. The head was fat and dark, and a very prominent vein wrapped around his shaft.

And, unlike the dude in the video he was watching, Ryan took forever to come. He had always been a little slow at sex, but getting off had taken a lot of extra effort the past year or so. He knew it was at least partially the fault of his anxiety meds.

Ryan closed his eyes, blocking out the image of Mr. Perfect Dick, but not the man’s happy moans. Ryan took a slow breath—in and out—then looked down at his dick.

“All right, buddy. We can do this. No pressure, just whenever you’re ready. But let’s try to get there this time, okay?”

He went easy on it, stroking himself with loose fingers and a lot of lube. Sex these days, even with himself, required a lot of patience. For this reason, he rarely dragged anyone else into the ordeal.

The guy on the screen was having a lovely time, swearing and gasping and promising a huge load very soon. “Show off,” Ryan muttered. He started scrolling through the recommended videos that were listed under this one because he knew he was going to need another.

He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. He liked jerk-off videos because he could kind of pretend he was sharing an experience with someone. He could pretend he was the one making the beautiful man on his computer screen moan with pleasure.

Instead he was alone in his apartment, offering encouraging words to his barely interested dick.

Why couldn’t he do this? He was horny as fuck, that was for sure. He hadn’t been with anyone for months. He hadn’t come for over two weeks. The situation was getting desperate.

“Just one little orgasm, buddy. How ’bout it?”

It felt nice, stroking himself like this. It certainly didn’t feel bad. He could keep this up for a long time and just enjoy the ripples of pleasure that never fully crested—and he often did just that, stroking himself for an hour or more without getting off. It was frustrating, though, and this time he was determined to come.

“Oh shit,” the video guy gasped. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come I’m gonna come...”

And then he did. The asshole.

“You know what?” Ryan snapped at his dick. “I’m calling the shots today. I’m going to put on another video, and we’re both gonna watch it and I’m gonna start from scratch. I’ll go slow, but we are fucking coming tonight.”

It’s not like coming was impossible, but he needed to be relaxed. He couldn’t be distracted at all, but he also couldn’t be overly focused. The circumstances needed to be exactly right—everything lined up like the perfect shot at an open net. If he could find that sweet spot, he could achieve orgasm. But it was a tall fucking order.

It was time to bring out the big guns. He went to his favorites folder and brought up a video of a porn star that he particularly liked named Kamil Kock. He was small and slim and a bit femme, with an elaborate peacock feather design tattooed down the left side of his torso. He had gorgeous dark eyes and light brown skin. Ryan had a lot of his videos saved.

“Look,” he said to his dick, “it’s Kamil. We love Kamil.”

His dick gave a halfhearted twitch. It was something.

Ryan spent the next twenty-seven minutes watching Kamil Kock pleasure his lean, elegant body while Ryan punished his own. Kamil had a musical lilt to his voice, and his long, slender fingers were covered in elaborate rings. He was beautiful in a way that Ryan never could be.

Ryan had a type, no question. He liked men who...blurred the line, a little. He found androgyny very sexy,