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When a devastating injury threatens the career of Terence Tiles, the superstar goalie for the Seattle Kraken, the foundation of the life he meticulously built over eight years crumbles. Overwhelmed, he retreats from...
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Search the definition for a dick and I swear you will see a face that looks like mine.
An awful moment where she almost crashes to the ground and I struggle to get her on her feet plays like a haunting Russian melody in my head.
Fuck. Fuck 'em roaches, or I would have to move out of my personal hell and create yet another one. I wanted to move back into my room, but I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to see the accolades and jerseys and team pictures and many other sappy stuff. No.
Roaches. Kicked me out of my own personal hell. Frustrated as hell, so imagine my surprise, annoyance and instant migraine when that face graces my house once again.
Looking so pretty and undeniably sexy yet again. Imagine the restraint. I might be at the rock bottom of my life right now, but there are some certain things that come around to remind me of what it feels like to be at the top. She is that for me. But she doesn't need to know that right now. Or ever.
Moving my stuff from basement to room and having to look at that gorgeous face of hers with each stride has to be the worst type of torture ever.
And of course she followed me, watching in silence as I recreated my personal hell, not stopping me, no comments, just watching. Her stare practically burning down my spine. I put the hearing aid in a small bag I found in the basement. I should throw it away, hell, I should destroy it, but she kept it for two whole years, I don't even know if it still works. I shouldn't care, I don't care. But I zip the small bag close.
I find myself telling her about the roaches in the basement. I can't hear myself, and talking while I can't hear is forever going to feel off. I rely on the vibrations in my throat and chest, but i know the words I speak. And obviously I don't know how I sound.
I know she says something right back. I see her lips move, but I can't comprehend what she says. I know she says roaches, but I don't know what she says. I'm half tempted to get the fucking hearing aid and make her repeat herself but I don't. I shouldn't care, I don't care.
She still stands there, the aura of her presence making me uncomfortable in different fucking ways. I know she's here to fix me. She's an expensive agent and she has many more accolades. She's a respected person in this part of the world and other parts, so for her to be standing here in my room can only mean one thing; there was some sort of intervention, either by coach or the guys. It's definitely not the team manager, right now I'm very sure he doesn't give a fuck about me. He'd even trade me if he could.
I turn to face her and her eyes meet mine. I make my way towards her and she takes steps backwards, more and more until her back hits the wall. I finally have her where I want her. Fuck. What was that thought?
"How long are you going to stand here?" I ask her, I'm dangerously close to her. And the last time we were like this, I had her in a different kind of cloud. My lips were on her nipples with a little teeth like she requested. I shouldn't be getting turned on. I haven't seen pussy in seven months so that's why my dick is probably straining like a helpless prisoner in my pants.
