Page 40 of He Has It All (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
Rolling to my side, he rakes his hand up my body, shoving his fingers through my hair, cupping my jaw to hold my mouth against his as he plunges, takes hold of my mouth, my tongue with a no-holds-barred immersion and mingling to the point of saturation. With a shaky hand he pulls down his zipper and I help, freeing his cock from his shorts as he works his pants down, groaning into my mouth.
The silk-over-steel feel of him unnerves me, makes me quiver like my nerves are wired. He pushes my dress up and my panties down as he rolls back over me, his ass bare, his starched white shirt bunched up. I want to tear it off of him and then he touches me. His big strong fingers, callused and hard, move up the inside of my thigh with a feathery touch on that most sensitive skin, making me jump, making everything go out of my head.
Nibbling, then lifting his mouth from my war-torn lips, his eyes hooded and intense with a sexy glaze riveted on mine, I see the longing beyond the driving sexual need, the small tic of doubt. I don’t know if he’s doubting himself or me or the two of us together, but I have none of it, only certainty that this is right. His fingers move even as his eyes stay focused and I move my hand on him, squeezing and testing the length of him to the tip where a bead of his juices runs and I have the sudden excruciating need to taste it.
I manage to get him onto his back and straddle him in one move before he has a chance to do anything except bunch his hand in my hair and keep me in his focus.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His mouth is a whisper from mine and I take in a heady mouthful of his breath, the scent and taste of him making me drool with want as I slide down his body, kissing his chin, his neck, his collarbone, on the way as my answer to his question.
“My God Chelsea, I want to—”
“If you want to please me, let me do this,” I say. Then I lick his nipple, flicking it with my tongue and he sucks in a breath. His hand is still in my hair and I can feel it tremble with his effort to keep his cool, except he’s the furthest thing from cool right now. The thought gives me a surge of power as I move between his legs and take his balls in my hand, lower my breasts, heavy and plump, to cradle the delicious, silky warmth of his cock between them. I move my body up and down, feeling him twitch as he swells impossibly hard against me.
“You’re so beautiful,” I say as I raise up over him, still holding his balls, moving my hands up the steely column of the most gorgeous specimen of man I’ve ever seen. Not that I’m terribly experienced, but I’ve seen porn, haven’t I?
He watches me, holding onto my hips between his legs and we’re both watching the statuesque length of him straight and tall and throbbing.
“You’re incredible you know that,” he says, his voice sure and gritty like he’s ready for whatever I can dish out.
My hands circle his tip and I swipe up the beads of his juice and lick my finger. His cock jumps and he closes his eyes on a moan. “Chelsea . . . you’re killing me.”
I laugh. I love hearing my name sound like gravel, seeing his chest heaving, seeing him struggle to hold himself in check while I take my time and savor him, because it’s what I want to do now that I have him. Now that he’s where I’ve imagined him all these years in my dreams.
Bending forward, I put my lips on his tip in a kiss, then lick, circling my tongue and sliding it through that slit.
“Fucking Christ’s sake.” He moans and shoves his hands into my hair again, shaky, clenching yet gentle.
Taking him deeper, I suck hard and he yells out. I suck harder and go down all the way, holding hard to the base of his shaft, until I almost gag, then I move up, grazing with my teeth, reveling in the havoc I’m wreaking on his nerves as his cock twitches and throbs inside my mouth, matching the throbbing between my legs. I can feel my panties getting wet, can feel my pussy swelling with need as I come down hard again with a big sucking motion, breathing hard.
“God almighty,” he grits out as I move my mouth back up slow until he pushes my head down again fast and I gag and he pulls me up and off him. My eyes are watering but I want him back in my mouth.
“Chels, I’m sorry—”
Without bothering to answer him, I suck him back into my mouth and go down, then up and down again fast and faster until he’s panting and moving his hips against me and I feel frenzied like I can’t stop until I feel him come, so I keep going, faster and faster, swirling my tongue and sucking hard.
“I’m going to come—”
He lets out a growl and the hot cum spurts down my throat and I swallow and suck and it keeps coming in spasm after spasm as he groans and pulls me off him, aiming his cock so that his cum streams into my face and he spreads it over my lips and chin with his fingers then drags me up over him onto his chest and takes me in his arms.
Holding me tight, caressing me, he kisses me tender, licking the cum off my mouth. I can’t remember ever feeling like this, so hot and excited and content all at once, like if the world ended now it would be okay. But not quite because my pussy is dancing and straining for attention now.
“Let’s take that shirt off you,” I say. He kneels and strips it off and I watch, mesmerized by his rippling muscles. I know he’s ripped, but the sight of him makes me weep for joy right between my legs.
“My God, you have no idea how much I want you,” I say. He gives me a smile.
“Testing my stamina?”
“I think you have it in you.”
“According to rumors?”
“According to my dreams,” I say. Then I want to bite my tongue off with that admission because his smile disappears.
“Don’t dream about me, Chelsea,” he says. “I’m your worst nightmare.”
“Too late,” I say because it is. “I want the whole show whether you’re a nightmare or a dream. I’ll figure that out for myself.” He kneels there, stroking a lazy finger in a circle around my nipple, driving me crazy, his eyes glazing over again and his cock rising as I watch, riveted. And he’s watching me watch. I squirm and clear my throat.
“You have a condom?”
