Page 53 of Offside

"Yes. Slowly." The first stretch stole my breath. He stopped without pulling away.

"Stay," I said. I opened around him a little at a time. When I was ready for more, I drew him closer with my heels. "Now."

He pushed deeper. I felt every inch of him. The pressure was intense enough to hurt at the edge; then it changed when I breathed and let my body take him in. Bishop's face had gone rigid with control.

"Look at me," I said. "I want to see your face." He met my gaze. "All the way."

He pushed inside me and stopped. For a moment neither of us moved. His cock filled me. His hands held my waist.

"Move," I said. His first stroke was shallow. The second went deeper. "Harder." His hips answered. Pleasure built with the drag of him inside me.

I reached for my cock.

Bishop caught my wrist gently. "Can I?"

"Touch me." He wrapped his left hand around me and matched the strokes of his hips. His right hand stayed fixed at my waist.

"Faster now," I said. He gave it to me. The bed struck the wall in an uneven rhythm. Bishop's breath broke against my mouth. His cock drove into me.

"Colt. Like that."

His fist tightened around my cock. I came between us, the orgasm pulling through me hard enough that my body closed around him. Bishop made a rough sound.

"Can I—"

"Come inside me," I said. "Yes."

He thrust twice more and came, his grip at my waist holding firm while the rest of him shook.

Afterward, he lowered himself beside me instead of onto the right arm.

"All right?" I asked.

"Yeah."

I lay beside him, skin cooling where sweat dried. His left hand came back to my waist.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Better than." I kissed him.

Later, while we were sitting at the kitchen table with some water, I turned the laptop toward him. The Denver offer filled the screen. It promised lead rehabilitation across three clinics, authority to build the program, two hires, a salary, resources, relocation, and a reporting line. New Year's Day appeared in bold near the end.

"That's the whole thing," I said. Bishop read it from the first line to the last. He didn't look for a weakness in the offer. He didn't tell me Chicago needed me or that Denver was running away.

"It would be a good job," he said.

"It might be."

"You want my input?" Bishop asked.

"No, not this time. This one has to belong to me."

19

Bishop

The club's offer reached Marchetti while the team plane was somewhere over Michigan. He sent me the number without commentary. The offer ran for two years at $1.7M AAV.