Hockey Hazard: When Desire Crosses the Ice
“Noah...”
But then he froze.
Noah’s pants were open, shoved down just enough. His hand was wrapped around his cock, which was thick, hard, veined, flushed dark with arousal, and if he could estimate, he would say it was 7 inches. Maybe 8, curving slightly upward. The sight punched the air out of Chase’s lungs.
“If you like what you see,” Noah said, voice low and rough, still stroking himself with lazy confidence, “show some appreciation with your mouth. Not just your eyes.”
Bab Populer