Carter

Sydney Carroway is the fucking crowned Queen of Blue Balls. All hail the Queen. She has me so goddamn horny, taunting me with her giant rack and tight ass, and loving every minute of my pain. I wish women knew the real meaning of blue balls. They have no idea the physical agony. Not that it compares to child birth, but still…my sack is about two seconds away from shriveling up and falling the hell off if I have to endure another night of Sydney flaunting her assets in my face.

I have never had a problem getting laid. Well, at least not since I grew into my baby fat from high school and joined the hockey team. Now, all I have to do is dial one of the girls on my list, and they come running over like Domino’s Pizza—hot, ready, and here within thirty minutes. Not Sydney, though, she gets her rocks off on fucking with me.

Sydney comes out from the bedroom with a satisfied smile on her face. Either she just got herself off, or she’s enjoying this torture. I know she wants me. Her nipples were hard and popping through her top when I kissed her neck. She stopped breathing for so long that I thought she had run out of air. Then, she flipped the switch on me.

I’m still hard, despite my best attempts not to think about her tits or that perfect ass. Good thing I’m wearing jeans this time though I’m sure knowing how turned on I am will only cause her to smile more. She enjoys this shit too much. I knew going into this that Kennedy had played with Tyler, all at the request of Sydney. But the moment I laid eyes on her, I had to get her in bed. If only she’d let me get that far.

Sydney walks into the kitchen, throwing her black curls over her shoulder and flashing me a sexy smirk. I hate that she takes pleasure in my pain. She’s a fucking sadist. So am I. She just doesn’t know it yet.

I like her. There’s something about this woman that I find so intriguing. I cannot put my finger on it. She’s a mystery, impossible to figure out. And that makes me work harder to find out what she’s hiding from me.

Why does she enjoy these games so much?

I never met a woman like her before. Most girls throw themselves at me and want to tie themselves to a rich hockey player, but not Sydney. Everything she does is planned out, calculated, yet makes no sense at the same time. She confuses the fuck out of me.

“Here you go,” Sydney says, handing me a bottle of beer, shaking her tits in my face as she leans over.

I take the beer with one hand and grab her by the waist with the other. She doesn’t swat me away. Shocker. Instead, she sucks in a deep breath, her eyes closed and chin pointed up to the ceiling.

If she wants this, then why does she fight it so much?

It’s obvious that she’s attracted to me. With a girl like Sydney, I would not even be here if she wasn’t interested. She’s the kind of woman that summons you, tells you when it’s okay to step into her world. I dated a few girls like her over the years but none to this extreme. The game of hers is on a whole new level.

“Carter,” she moans, allowing me to scoop her up and set her down on my lap. Her eyes finally open and she locks onto me with those big blue irises that had caught my attention the first time we met.

Before she can say another word, I lean over to put my beer on the table in front of me, reaching around Sydney and in the process pulling her closer. As I run my hands down her arms, her skin pricks with little bumps. She wants this more than she will ever admit. Her nipples poke through the thin material of her tank once more. And this time, I cup her breast in my hand, feeling her through the shirt. She didn’t even bother to put her bra back on.

“Carter,” she says, licking her lips as I look up at her.

“You want this, baby. Stop fighting me.”

“Mmm,” she says, as I pull down her shirt, exposing her breast to the cold air, causing the tiny bud to harder even more. “We shouldn’t…”

“We should,” I tell her with confidence before I roll my tongue over her nipple. “Fuck the rules.”

She runs her fingers through my hair. The noises that escape her lips are so fucking sexy they’re worth the last few days of never-ending blue balls. A man can only jerk off so many times before he needs the real thing. Pushing down her shirt further, I take her other breast in my hand, massaging it as I suck on her nipple, giving it a little bite.

That earns me another cry of pleasure, and she grips my hair tighter. Her breasts are so big even my hands are not large enough to cover all the square footage. And the best part about them is that they’re real. I love big tits as much as the next man, but there’s something about real, full breasts that are so much better than implants. This is a nice change of pace after the last few girls.

Moving my hand down her stomach and between her legs, I continue planting kisses on her skin, forcing her body to tremble. I spread her legs in one swift motion, then, I make my way up her thigh, stopping for a second to peel back her silky panties before I plunge a finger inside her wetness.

She calls out my name, this time through clenched teeth, her voice almost a whisper.

“My God, baby. Look how wet you are for me. I knew you wanted this.”

“I can’t,” she mutters. “I shouldn’t…”

I add another finger, pushing further as her juices coat my skin. “Then make me stop.”

All I get is a loud groan in response. Sydney tilts her head back while holding onto a chunk of my hair.

“You don’t want me to stop. It feels good. I know it does. You’re a dirty little girl, and you like it when I finger your pussy. Don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” she whispers. “Don’t stop, Carter.”

Then, my cell phone rings. I already know by the ringtone that it’s Jenny, my sister, calling on the other end of the line, which takes my head out of the game. I had plans for Sydney. Unfortunately for her, getting her wet and withholding her orgasm was all part of my revenge plot. I can tell she’s close, so fucking close that I’m not sure if she’ll ever talk to me again after I do this, but at least it will be worth it.

My phone keeps ringing, annoying the shit out of me. We need to stop. I need a break to check in on my sister. So, I withdraw my fingers from Sydney and bring them up to my mouth to get a taste.

Sydney’s eyes open as wide as her mouth does. She’s panting and out of breath. “Wh—what are you doing?”

“I have to get going.” I lie, because I need to call my sister back, and I don’t need an audience when I do it. “I have a training session in the morning at Tyler’s house. Need to get my rest.”

I laugh on the inside, all while keeping a straight face. If Sydney wants to play games with me, I’ll show her how much it sucks to have someone fuck with your orgasms. “We should pick up where we left off another night. Maybe on Thursday.”

She’s still staring at me in shock, unsure of what to say next. This must be a first for her. Two can play this game. Seeing the Queen knocked down a peg, vulnerable and irritated, gives me more satisfaction than if she were to whip out my cock and suck it. As much as I’d love to have those full lips wrapped around me right now, I’d rather go home and jerk off again than let her win.

Leaving Sydney with a taste of her own medicine makes my sad, lonely night with my hand worth it. I still have thoughts of her tight, wet pussy to get me through until I can have the real thing. At least now, I know how she feels and tastes instead of imagining it. Eventually, one of us has to give in, and since she started it first, I will wait her out. Or at least I will try.

* * *

As soon as I get in my car, I remove my cell phone from my pocket. I already have four text messages in addition to Jenny’s voicemail. Holding my breath, I open the messages, all of which read Call me back or It’s important.

Everything is important when it comes to Jenny. She’s my older sister, the woman who raised me, and the closest I have to a decent female role model in my life. My mother passed away when I was nine, leaving me with a drunken asshole of a father and Jenny. She had just started high school when a fatal car crash had killed my mother.

After all these years, I still have trouble remembering my mom. It’s been so long since the last time I saw her face or heard her voice that the only reminder I have of her anymore are pictures. And they’re all filled with lies. In some ways, my mother was the lucky one. She got away from my dad, escaped from all the pain and abuse. My father never survived the tragedy, blamed us for everything that had happened. As if my sister and I had anything to do with our mother’s death. We were strangers in our own house, treated as if we didn’t belong.

Dear old dad was the Sheriff in the small town where I grew up. He could get away with murder. Instead, he abused his seat of power and took every bit of his rage out on his family. I was surprised how shaken up he was about my mother, especially since he was almost as bad to her as he was to my sister and me.

Called to the scene of the accident, my father had to watch as the firefighters pulled my mother from what was left of her car. She was already gone at that point. And he was never the same man. I can’t say I blame him for how he acted afterward. I doubt I would have survived something so tragic.

But I do blame him for all the beatings and the torment. I blame him for all the darkness that had come into our lives. Jenny always reminds me that our mother was like a ray of sunshine. She was the light to my father’s darkness. If only someone would shine a light on mine.

With shaky hands, I hit Jenny’s number on my screen and hold the phone up to my ear. The phone rings a few times before she finally picks up.

“Hey, baby bro,” she says in a singsong tone. “Where have you been? Did you get my messages?”

“Jenny, you only called ten minutes ago.” Annoyed with her attitude, I suck in a deep breath and blow it out. “I have a life. I was in the middle of something when you called.”

“You know I worry about you, Carter.” She worries way too much about me. Ever since our mother died, she watches over me, as if she’s my guardian angel. “Is everything okay? How’s hockey going for you?”

“Horrible,” I confess, still ashamed by my performance at practice today. “My game is off, and I have no idea why I’m so…unfocused. I don’t know how to fix it. If I could just pinpoint where I went wrong, start all over, maybe I could figure things out. Tyler’s been helping me, but nothing has worked for me.”

“Well, snap out of it and get your focus back.” Her tone is so intense and severe. When Jenny is in a room, her presence demands attention. She can command mine without even being nearby. “I’m coming to see you. I can help you.”

She’s always been so strong, and I admire that about her. Jenny is the reason I go after strong women like Sydney. I grew up with Jenny bossing me around, reminding me to get to practice on time and what foods to eat to stay in shape. If anyone has been my coach, it’s Jenny. It’s also the reason I don’t mind Sydney and her game.

I laugh a little too loud, and that earns me a snide remark. “Hey, don’t make me come down there and kick your ass, baby bro.”

I smile at her words. “I’m not a baby, and I’d like to see you try.”

“Yeah,” she says, playful, “but I would kill myself trying. I’m serious about coming down to see you. It’s been three months, if not longer, since the last time we saw each other.”

“Jenny, I have to figure this out on my own. You can’t hold my hand through life.”

“Yes, I can, and I will.” Her irritation is evident in her tone. “I have been here through all the good times and the bad, Carter. I don’t care if I have to get into a pair of skates and stand next to the net with you, but I am going to get you back to normal. Whatever is bothering you, we will figure it out together.”

“Jen, c’mon, can you leave it alone? I just need time to work on things.”

“No, because if you fail, so do I. And I will not let that happen. Do you understand me?” In some ways, Jenny is right. She’s the reason I found hockey, the light to my darkness back when I needed something to fill the void. Jenny was my cheerleader and has always been my biggest fan. If I needed a ride to practice, she was there to drive me. When I outgrew my skates, Jenny worked extra shifts at the diner to get me new ones.

I sigh at her comment. Because I know she’s right, and I hate to admit it. “Fine. When are you coming?”

She squeals with delight. “Let me check with Steve, but I should be able to come down in the next month or so. With Kyle in daycare, I need to figure out an exact date, but I will let you know as soon as Steve gets home from work. Sound good?”

“Yes, that works for me.” I grin like an idiot at the thought of my sister coming to visit. My God, I missed her and knowing she will be here soon, gives me hope. “Are you coming with Kyle and Steve?”

“I’m not sure yet. Let me see what Steve wants to do. No matter what, you will get me at a bare minimum.”

“Okay. Just text me the dates later.” I turn the key in the ignition, and the Hummer comes to life. Sydney might get the wrong idea if she looks out into the parking lot of her apartment complex and finds me parked here like some stalker. Especially after I’d told Sydney I had things to do. That part was not a lie, but I did want to mess with her head and her body, the same way she has mine.

“Yay!” She yells into my ear, forcing me to hold the phone away from my ear. “Talk soon. Love you, baby bro.”

“Love you, too, big sis.”

I smile as I hang up the phone. Maybe Jenny can help me sort out my shit and get me back on track. I keep my fingers crossed that will happen because my team needs her. They just don’t know it yet.