I move closer to her, trying to crowd her against the wall where it meets the side of the tub. “It’s enough. I’m just saying it’s not everything. What else is bothering you?”
“I don’t think I’m required to answer that question.”
“Of course you’re not.” I make a show of giving it some thought, then move even closer. She’s got nowhere else to go unless she ducks under my arm. She doesn’t. “Let me tell you, then.”
“How can you tell me? You don’t know.”
“No, I think I do.” I set my hand against the wall, effectively caging her into the corner.
“Enlighten me then.” Her eyes are hard, arms crossed over her chest, her mouth in an angry line. But I can see something else under the hardness. She’s going to break if I move her just the right way. She’s so ready to let go of all this garbage she’s been bottling up all this time.
“I’m not Mason Carter. I’m not going to fuck you over like that.”
She shakes her head. “There’s no way I can know that.”
“I just told you.”
“I can’t trust you. You’re…” She trails off.
“A football player?” I’m genuinely angry by now. She keeps blowing me off just because she’s got this idea of what I am, and it’s not even close. Yeah, I sleep around—or I used to before Chloe showed up—but I don’t tell a girl one thing and then do another. I sure as hell don’t throw them under the bus like Carter did.
“We’re not all the same, Chloe. Just like all physical therapists aren’t paragons of selflessness who only want to make the world a better place. Some PTs are assholes. I think maybe you work with at least one who would fit that description. And not all football players are assholes. Mason Carter? Ginormous fucking asshole. And not just to you.”
“I don’t—” she starts, at the same time trying to duck under my arm. I don’t let her.
“Look at me.” She looks, instead of focusing on everything except me like she’s been doing up to now. “Look me right in the eye.”
I don’t say any more until she steadies her gaze on me with an exasperated sigh.
“Okay, you keep looking at me, Doc. I’m going to say some shit, and I want you to know I’m telling you the truth.”
“Fine.” Still, her eyes slide a bit to the side. I jostle her, reminding her of what she’s supposed to be doing.
“You are probably the best PT I’ve ever worked with.” Her mouth drops open and I can tell she’s about to say something. “Hush,” I say before she can form words. “Hear me out.”
She nods, so I continue. “I’ve been hurt before—did some shit to my ACL last year, broke a rib the year before that. I’ve worked with doctors and PTs before, and you really know your shit. If I’d known you were working for that practice earlier, I would have requested you a long time ago.”
Again, she tries to talk. This time I lay a finger of my free hand across her lips. “Not done. What I’m saying is, if there’s anybody who can get me sorted out before the playoffs are over, it’s you.”
“I don’t think—”
“You really don’t understand this whole ‘hush up till I’m done talking’ thing, do you?”
She shakes her head. I can tell she’s softening again. Which is pretty much the opposite of what I’m doing.
“Look, Chloe. I want you to keep being my PT. I also want to…pursue extracurriculars. You get what I’m saying?”
She says nothing. I roll my eyes. “You can answer the question.”
“Okay, yes, I get what you’re saying. But I don’t think—”
“I said you could answer the question. I didn’t say you could keep talking after that.”
“Prick.”
“Yes,” I tell her, and I reach for one of her hands and draw it down between my legs. “Right here, Doc.”
I’m almost—but not quite—surprised when she shoves her hand down the front of my tight Lycra shorts. Her fingers wrap around my cock, which is perking up quite nicely after the indignity inflicted by the ice bath. Still, her hand is so warm in comparison it almost feels scalding. Her other hand yanks the shorts down a little farther to give her better access. She squeezes tight until I actually flinch.
“Easy there, Doc,” I murmur, and she squeezes tighter until I wonder if I’m going to have to forcefully unwrap her fingers. But then she starts moving her hand.
Her eyes are still locked on mine, and I see the flicker of anger in them brighten and then change to something else. Yes, she’s still mad. But she’s going to take it out on me, and yeah, I’m going to like it. A lot. I let out a groan that I make no effort at all to hold back.
“Shhhh,” she admonishes, but she doesn’t stop working me.
“God, Chloe. Don’t stop.”
I’m being loud, and I don’t care. She’s got a way with her fingers that for some reason I didn’t expect. I mean, I know she likes sex—she’s demonstrated that pretty clearly over the last few weeks. She just doesn’t want to admit to liking sex with me. But this is sheer talent.
Her hand is tight and clever, the grip varying with each stroke. One time she’s grasping me so tightly I’m not sure I can stand it, and the next her fingers are looser, sliding over the head of my dick, making firecrackers go off behind my eyes.
“Wow, Chloe. I had no idea… You’ve got mad skills, Doc.” My hands are clenching the edge of the tub.
“Stop it,” she hisses. “Stop it or I’ll stop.”
“No, you won’t.” Of course she doesn’t. “You’re too dedicated to your work, and this is making me feel so much better, I can’t even tell you.”
Her fist twists on my shaft, and I let out another hissed exclamation. She pumps me again, faster now, and shifts her other hand to my balls.
I lean forward and kiss her. She’s still half-pinned in the corner, so she can’t really get away unless she makes a concerted effort. Right now the only concerted efforts she’s making involve jacking me off. It’s getting close to time for practice to be over, which means the guys who are running drills on the field right now could start traipsing back in any minute. Okay, probably not for at least ten or fifteen minutes yet, but still.
I don’t want her to know that. I don’t want to ask her if she took note of the actual practice schedule before she made this appointment. I don’t want to do anything that could remind her that we could get busted here, with her hand on my cock and my tongue down her throat.
Her thumb slides over the head of my cock now with each firm pull of her fingers, and her other hand has engulfed my balls. I’m so close to the edge—
She bites my lip. Hard. And that’s the thing that shoves me right over. I grunt as I pour cum all over her hands, the sound so loud it’s almost a shout. The pulses come one after the other, fast and hard, pure pleasure knotting itself up at the base of my spine.
I grab her hair with one hand and pull her down for another deep, intense kiss, using the other hand to ease my shorts back into place.
“Your turn.”
She pulls back. “What?”
“Your turn.” I reach between her legs, feeling the heat there through her trousers. “I want my face right here.”
“I don’t think—”
“I don’t want you to think. I want you to find a horizontal surface, take your pants off, and lie down.”
“Austin—”
“Look.” I kiss her again to get her attention. When I’m done, she’s staring up at me with blown pupils and her parted lips a little swollen. “I owe you one. I’m going to pay up.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do.” I glance around the room, looking for a good place for her to sit or lie down so I can have full access to her pussy. I can almost taste her already. And damn, I want this. Any other woman, I’d be happy to take what I can get and let her go on her way if that’s what she wants. But not Chloe. I want to see her falling apart while my tongue stabs into her. I want to taste her juices pouring into my mouth. I want—
“There.” I point toward a weight bench near the back wall. The black padded seat will be perfect for her, and there are handholds above it where she can anchor herself while I work on her.
“On the weight bench?” She seems hesitant.
“Yeah. Look at it. Perfect place. Trust me.” I pick her up before she can protest and carry her over to it, then plop her down. “Pants off.”
“Practice is over pretty soon, isn’t it?”
Shit. I knew she’d figure that out sooner or later. “We’ve got some time yet.” Which isn’t a lie. We do have some time. Just not a lot of it.
She still seems hesitant, so I go to my knees in front of her, pressing my face between her breasts. “Think about it, Chloe. My face between your thighs. My tongue in your pussy. I’ll have you screaming so hard… I want you to come all over my tongue.”
This gets a low moan out of her. I reach for the button of her trousers, and she doesn’t protest as I unfasten it. Next comes the zipper. If she really wants to put up a fight, she won’t lift her hips to let me slide the pants down her legs.