Page 81 of The Goalie in Room 1

I rolled onto my side. The bed next to me deserted.

Flipped onto my back to stare up at the ceiling

Worse.

I punched the pillow into submission.

Absolutely fucking useless.

There was no sleeping like this.

There was one extremely obvious solution, but I hated the thought of it. I wanted the man, not the image in my mind. My cock throbbed again.

Swearing under my breath, I opened the nightstand drawer.

The cool, thick liquid drizzled over the head of my cock, drawing a hissed groan from me. My head pushed back into the pillows, arching my neck. Wrapping my hand around the shaft, my fist flew over my hardened flesh.

In seconds, Cash’s name danced over my lips. A litany…a plea for him as need and want and lust gave way. I lost myself to the visuals my mind conjured of the man. Over me while he rode my cock. Under me while I plowed his ass. His beautiful, sassy mouth wrapped around me, sucking me dry while I returned the favor.

Too soon, the orgasm I wanted to share with him crashed into me, knocking me over the edge.

“Cash!”

“Holy shit.”

My eyes flew toward the door…toward the door. Brown eyes met blue.

“Shit.”

17

CASH

I stood in Thad’s doorway staring at him.

Him.

Covered in cum.

My name still hovered between us.

And he stared back.

And neither of us moved.

For once in my fucking life, I had nothing glib to say.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Thad stared at me from the bed, his face a mixture of horror and something else I couldn’t quite name.

Holy shit. There were moments when your brain should probably do something useful. Tell your feet to move. Tell your eyes to look away. Remind you that privacy was a thing and maybe standing in a man’s bedroom after walking in on him jerking his dick was a…well, a dick move.

My brain didn’t get that memo. It just kept replaying one thing. My name.

Cash had come out of Thad’s mouth.

My name.