Goal Lines & First Times (CU Hockey #3) Read Online Eden Finley

Categories Genre: College, Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: CU Hockey Series by Eden Finley
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Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
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I love you.

There’s no way I’m being the asshole who says that during sex.

Feeling a little vulnerable, I reach over and tear a condom from the strip on the nightstand, then drop the lube on the bed beside us.

I press one more quick kiss on his mouth and turn so my back is to him. My cock throbs, demanding attention, but I ignore it as I lube up my fingers and lean forward, then start to work myself open.

Richie’s long groan meets the sight, and the crinkle of foil tells me he’s sorting out the condom. Which is good because I barely have enough patience for the two fingers I have inside me. I need to feel him. Need him to own me. Use me. I pull out my fingers.

“Touch me.”

He grabs my ribs and hauls me back against his chest, then lets his hands fall to my waist. Richie squeezes hard, just on the cusp of painful, and it makes me vibrate with need. I reach down to hold his cock in line as I press it against my hole.

“Take what you need, Richie.”

“Fuck yes.” He shoves up hard.

My gasp cuts off as he wraps his arms around me and holds me close, bringing me down to meet each hard thrust. “How do I make you feel?” I ask.

His arms tighten, and Richie drags openmouthed kisses over my neck. “Incredible. Impossible. So fucking turned on. You’re perfect. So fucking perfect, Einstein. Maybe I wasn’t being dumb all these years, after all. Maybe I was waiting for you.”

My head falls back on his shoulder at how much I love hearing those words. When his thumb flicks over my nipple and sends a spear of desire straight to my cock, I keep my arms by my sides, even as I ache to push his hand away. I let him explore, let him lightly drag his fingertips over my aching cock and cup my balls. He touches my body like he owns it, because he does.

Then he plants his feet on the mattress, grips my hips in his big hands, and starts to pound into me hard. I try to meet his thrusts, and each time his hips slam against my ass, a jolt travels up my spine and deep into my balls.

“Tell me I turn you on,” I beg.

“Oh God.” He bites down on my shoulder and grabs my dick, jerking me hard. “I need you to come. Now.”

I do.

The orgasm I’ve been struggling to hold back crashes into me, and I spill over into his fist. Richie swears, then shoves me forward off his cock. I land face-first on the mattress.

I’m dazed for a moment until I hear the snap of the condom, then the sloppy sounds of him jerking, and when I look back to see him stroking himself with my come …

Holy fuck.

My wilting dick tries to get interested again.

And then Richie’s coming, ropes of it coating my back and sending my brain to a whole other level of bliss. Satisfaction seeps through my limbs, making them heavy and sated. I’m vaguely aware as he collapses onto my back, covering me with his sweaty body and filling me with this deep sense of being needed.

He murmurs words against my hair that I can’t hear, but they’re low and warm. I want to meet his kisses, but I’m boneless, so I lie there and enjoy this lingering high.

Sure with chemistry like ours, nothing will ever come between us.

We’re all happier in Montreal. Richie and I have four whole days with each other. Foster still has practice, but he and Zach are joined at the hip otherwise. Plus, there are only a few months until Zach is hopefully moving here, and unlike last time we visited, he’s practically vibrating with excitement over it.

We have to leave way too soon. Richie and I check out of the hotel and drive to Foster’s place. It’s a great little apartment. Unlike mine which has its own charm and history, his is all modern finishes and gleaming appliances, and the whole living room opens to a view of the city.

It’s impressive.

He’s worked hard to be here.

And while I wait for the jealousy to kick in … it doesn’t. I’m hit with this weird moment of recognition that this is Foster’s life, and it’s not what I want for me.

I’m going to teach and get a little house—with character—somewhere, and maybe spend my summers traveling.

With Richie?

Who fucking knows, but it’s an image that makes me happy.

I smile at my brother. “This is sort of incredible. Show-off.”

“Ah, this old thing.” He pretends to flex. “It’s nothing. Total shithole.”

I roll my eyes and go to grab a drink from his fridge while Zach and Richie walk out to the balcony talking about when Zach moves here.

I grab the OJ and swig right from the bottle.


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