I hold out my hand to him; he takes it without hesitation. His fingers close around mine, and I tug him along behind me to the showers at the end of the locker room. I start pulling my jersey off as soon as we’re there, and then I reach for his too. I lift it up his chest until he raises his arms and bends down so I can drag it over his head too.
“We have to be fast,” I tell him, “so we’re not late to that dinner you’re taking the team to. I can’t wait to see the wine you’ll pick.”
“You’ve heard about that?” he asks as he reaches past me to turn on the shower. Water sputters for a second before a steady stream starts pouring down. “I, uh—” he starts, then cuts himself off.
I step into him and wrap a hand around his half-hard cock, leaning in to suck at the side of his neck, his skin warm and tasting faintly of salt.
“You what? Don’t leave me hanging.”
The sound he makes is somewhere between a groan and a curse. He bends down a little until his forehead is resting against mine. “I came up with it because I wanted to take you out before we leave,” he admits, his voice dropping lower; the longing in it impossible to miss.
I just stare at him, my brain stalling completely. He planned a team dinner so he could take me out?Yeah, words are not happening right now. So instead, I drop to my knees. I wrap my hand around his cock and lean forward to lick across the tip before taking him in my mouth. The taste of him spreads across my tongue and he exhales audibly above me.
It doesn’t take long before he’s fully hard in my mouth. I don’t bother teasing him tonight because we don’t have theluxury of time. I just get to it, bobbing my head and taking as much of him as I can, while the water from the shower begins to warm the air around us.
I enjoy the sounds he makes, the groans he tries to swallow down, and the way his breathing becomes more uneven the longer I keep sucking him off.
Because I know what he likes by now, I move one of my hands lower and cup his balls, squeezing it gently while my other hand trails to his hole, circling his rim the way I know drives him crazy. His body jerks slightly above me, and he reaches down and pulls the tie from my hair, freeing my afro from the bun I always tie it in for games. My curls fall loose around my shoulders, and his hand grips it as I keep working him with my mouth.
His moans travel straight to my groin, propelling me to keep going. When I press one finger into his hole, his body tightens and he clenches around me, a broken groan leaving his throat at the same time his cum starts hitting my tongue. His grip in my hair crosses into painful as he empties his load down my throat, but I don’t pull away. I stay right there and swallow everything he gives me.
When his breathing finally starts to steady again, his grip loosens. I pull back and make sure he’s finished before I stand up from the floor, my legs wobbling when I stand. Before he can say anything, I turn him around so his back is facing me. He stiffens when I step closer to him and drag my cock along the line of his arse, so I massage his lower back. “I’m not fucking you without any prep,” I say, chuckling. “Can you hold your thighs together though?”
He glances at me over his shoulder, then nods and shifts his stance, bringing his thighs together the way I asked. I slide my cock between his thighs, nudging forward until I’m snug there, pleasure surging through my body at the contact. Just like theblowjob I gave him, I don’t waste time dragging this out. I thrust between his tight thighs while holding onto his hips to balance myself. The friction is perfect, and my mind does the rest of the work, imagining it’s his hole until my orgasm crashes through me. I groan as I come, spilling my cum across his thighs and the tiled wall in front of him.
For a moment neither of us move, then he turns around to face me. “That’s so hot,” he says.
I grin at him, still catching my breath. “You can do that to me later,” I finally reply.
He gives me a small smile that I would probably overanalyse, but my brain is still pleasantly foggy from my orgasm, so I let it slide. “Are you always the one to, uhm,” he gestures between us.
It takes me a few seconds to figure out what he’s trying to ask and when it clicks, I huff out a laugh.
“I’ve never bottomed,” I tell him honestly, reaching for the bath gel. “But I can for you if you want.”
His smile turns shy in a way that looks strange on someone like him, and he shakes his head. “I think one of the reasons I wasn’t good at sex with women,” he says slowly, “is because I don’t want to do too much. I’ve realised I prefer to be on the receiving end, if you get what I mean.”
“You are a born bottom,” I tease and slap his arse.
The noise that leaves his mouth when my hand connects with his arse is downright diabolical, even my cock takes notice and twitches. I clear my throat and focus on rinsing the soap from my arms because we don’t have time for round two right now.
We finish our shower quickly after that. Once we’re done, we dry off and put on clean clothes. By the time we reach the hotel, the reception area is deserted enough that we slip through without running into any of the guys. We head in opposite directions towards our rooms with an agreement to meet back at the reception.
Inside my room, I pull on a pair of blue tailored pants and a white shirt, and I take a minute to run a comb through my hair before heading back out. I’m halfway across the hotel lobby when I stop dead in my tracks. Johnson is already there, and he’s wearing a full black suit that fits him snugly. The jacket hugs his broad shoulders, the white shirt underneath it is doing the Lord’s work, and there’s an actual bow-tie sitting at his collar. Even his shoes are proper polished Oxfords, not sneakers like the ones currently on my feet.
God, he’s such a vision.
He lifts his eyes from his phone. When he sees me, a small smile spreads across his face.
“You clean up nice,” I say honestly as I walk over, eyeing him from head to toe without even trying to hide it.
He lets out a chuckle and puts his phone in his pocket. “I want our date to be memorable,” he says as we start walking towards the doors. “Because—” he continues, then stops himself mid-sentence.
Unlike in the shower when I pushed for him to complete his sentence, I don’t do that now. Something in my chest sinks a little because I have a feeling I know what he’s about to say. I’m not sure I want to hear it. We step outside; the evening is cooler than the lobby. I try to focus on the simple things, like the sound of the traffic and the glow of the lights from the restaurant across the road. I decide I’m just going to have a nice time tonight, pretend it’s just us on this date, and that the entire Nigerian football team isn’t really there.
The cab Johnson booked pulls up to the kerb a few minutes later, and Johnson glances around before stepping forward to open the door for me. He then checks the street again beforejogging around the car to get in on the other side. The driver pulls away from the hotel after the door shut. We don’t say much during the ride, but the silence is not awkward. I can feel him beside me without even looking, I swear the sexual tension between us could cut a wire. Judging by the way the driver is glancing at us in the rearview mirror, he’s probably picking up on it too.
When we reach the restaurant, the guys are just being ushered to our table. If anyone notices that Johnson and I arrived together, they don’t say anything about it. The restaurant is lively, already filled with conversation and the clinking of glasses. My nose loves the smell of grilled food and spices drifting through the air. My stomach takes notice too. Johnson reaches the table before I do and pulls out a chair. But then he pauses, and he shifts like he’s changed his mind. He slides into the seat beside it instead, gesturing for me to sit in the chair he had just pulled out (which makes me think he pulled it out for me).
