Power Plays & Straight A's - Eden Finley Page 0,42
the terrible dialogue and weird sounds.
“Ooh yeah, baby, like that—”
I cringe and quickly click across to the next video. Nope, too hairy. Room too dirty. The next guy has glasses like mine which are definitely not sexy—Foster took mine off last night for a reason—and in the next … could he really not take the time to wash his feet first?
This isn’t working. I start to laugh into my cupped hands as the rhythmic sound of slapping and grunting jolts from my laptop speakers. Maybe I shouldn’t have relieved myself first? I test out that theory by remembering Foster lying right here on top of me, and my dick automatically twitches.
Okay, jerking off isn’t the issue.
I glance at the search bar and start typing before I’ve even fully formed the thought.
Hockey player.
There is a wealth of choices. Of course there is, because I’m beginning to suspect hockey is the sexiest sport on earth. I find one with both men in full uniform up against lockers in a locker room.
Yes, please.
It’s not hard to imagine the black and orange uniforms as navy and silver, and there’s no preamble as the guy behind enters the one in front. My dick finally takes interest. Instead of the two of them, I’m picturing Foster behind me while I lean into the locker wearing his jersey.
I mean, I’m assuming he’d be behind me. The thought of me taking control of sex with him makes me ridiculously uncomfortable. I want Foster to hold me tight and pant in my ear and get completely lost in my body.
“Fuck …” I mutter, shoving my hand down my pants.
There’s no discernable talking but one of them is muttering under his breath, which possibly makes it hotter. It’s like these two don’t care the camera’s there because they’re too involved in each other.
The guy behind turns the other man’s face to kiss him and speeds up his thrusts. My limbs start to tingle, and I quickly shove down my pants, ready for round two. But as the laptop slips away and my eyes fall closed, I’m reliving the suffocating way Foster kissed me and how it made me feel needed. I groan, and my cock starts to pulse as I come again.
The high fades away, and I feel fractionally more accomplished this time around. Surely, that was at least double the time.
Oh. The hockey players are still going at it. I check the time on the video with my clean hand and discover it’s only seven minutes in.
Pfft. Who wants to have sex for seven minutes anyway?
Foster, probably. And okay, maybe I’d enjoy it too. Definitely. I’d definitely enjoy it too, and now that I’ve completed that little experiment, I have to face the facts.
I need sex.
And I want it to be with Foster.
With a sigh, I close the porn site, grab a tissue to clean off, and open a web search.
How to have sex.
I realize my mistake a second after I hit search when diagrams and illustrations of vaginas fill the screen.
Oops. Revise.
How to have gay sex.
17
Foster
I’d like to say overhearing Zach is a virgin doesn’t change anything. But … I think it does.
It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with Zach. Holy shit, do I ever. I know I could make it good for him. I’d take care of him and be gentle, and I wouldn’t push him into anything he wasn’t comfortable with. But it’s a lot of pressure. Pressure I can’t really afford to add on top of everything else.
Grades.
Hockey.
The NHL.
Not a day goes by where I don’t wonder if I made the right choice not entering the draft last year so I could get my degree first. While I’m great at hockey and I believe it’s my calling, the game is unpredictable. I could injure myself tomorrow, and it would all be over. Even if I managed to get in a few years playing professionally, it could all go away overnight, and I’d have nothing to fall back on.
It’s why my parents and I decided to wait until after I get my degree before I become a free agent and try to get picked up by a team.
And speaking of agents, I don’t even have one yet.
I’ve had a couple approach me, but I’m waiting for the right one.
That’s what I should be focused on right now. Hockey. It’s always been hockey. Always. It’s why my semi-relationship things haven’t worked out in the past—because I can’t put anyone before the NHL.