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I know there’s a whole other reason behind it; it’s an escape, a way for her to live in another reality, even if only for a short time. And I totally get it.
“Of course it fucking matters. Somebody hurt you, Oakley. Really hurt you. You have to tell me who did this.”
He’s quiet for a beat, then he lunges forward, smashing his mouth against mine.
“You wanna know why?” he murmurs. “It’s because I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting you, okay?” His throat bobs with an audible click. “Anyone but me.”
“Oakley,” he rasps, sounding as desperate for this as I am. He cups the side of my face with a trembling hand. “Oakley, please.” And just like that, my control snaps.
“Your skin tastes like sugar. So fucking sweet.” “This better not be another one of your games, or I swear to God—” “It’s not. I promise it’s not. I want you, Oakley.”
It’s a serious power-trip, seeing this big, broad football player on his knees for me, panting and whimpering just from jerking my cock. It’s a serious turn on, too.
“Can you hear them?” I taunt, voice low. “They’re looking for you. They could come in here any second. What would they say if they saw you like this, huh? What would they say if they knew that their captain was on his knees for me, moaning like a damn whore?”
“You love this, don’t you? Love the idea of being caught.” He nods shakily and an evil grin slides over my face. “Touch yourself. Make yourself come. Let them hear just how much you love my cock.”
“Oakley…” he whispers, panting breaths hitting my lips. “Don’t you get it? I would hurt anyone for you. Anyone. All you have to do is tell me who it is.”