“Fill me up. Fuck me.”
“Yeah.” Satisfaction thickens his voice as he moves again, closer, taking his cock in his hand to slide the head up and down through my wet pussy. I tip my hips up to give him access and he prods gently at my opening, then pushes in. “Fuck, Kate…”
My eyes are heavy but I watch his face, the way his eyelids lower, his mouth firms, his jaw contracts. Then he looks back at me. Our eyes meet and something sharp and sweet pierces me.
My lungs constrict. I lick my lips, our gazes locked on each other. He penetrates me deeper, stretching me, filling me, so completely and intimately I can’t breathe. Can’t think.
We’ve done this before. So long ago, though, it’s almost like we’re two different people now. And yet we’re the same.
He stretches out over me, big and heavy, his elbows on the mattress, his hands smoothing the hair back from my forehead as he kisses me. I hook my ankles at the small of his back and wrap my arms around him. Our mouths join, cling, and part, again and again as he touches my face, then kisses my jaw and my neck. I release my ankles and smooth my hands up and down his sides, enjoying the feel of his muscles and warm skin. He pulls back to stare down at me, and I smile and slide my fingers through his thick hair.
He moves inside me, slowly, easing out and then back in. It’s delicious friction as he glides over sensitive nerve endings and then as he pushes deep, he hits a spot inside me that’s almost unbearably lovely. Our mouths barely touch as we move together, slowly at first. Then he pushes up onto straight arms and drives in harder. Faster. The bed bounces in an erotic rhythm.
I grab his thighs, then his waist, watching his face tighten. God. God. He’s beautiful, so vital and strong. Sensation pulls tight inside me, coiling, and I tilt my pelvis more so he presses my clit on every downstroke. It only takes a few strokes and I’m blowing up, that hot spiral inside me bursting open, flooding my body with pleasure. It washes down my legs, making them weak, and my heart pounds. I can’t stop the noises I make as I come so hard I’m blind, gripping Hunter’s shoulders and hanging on as if I’m unwinding so fast I’ll fly away.
He presses a hard kiss to my mouth as shudders wrack me, then a gentler, lingering kiss. He pushes back onto his knees, holding my legs as he drives into me, his face intent and focused, his mouth open as his own orgasm breaks over him. He shouts, his head falling back, his body tensing as he holds himself deep inside me and pulses. I squeeze him with my inner muscles, and he groans.
Seconds later he stretches out beside me, pulling me into my side so he’s still inside me. I hook a leg over his hip and bury my face in his neck, both of us still breathing hard, still vibrating.
I struggle for words. Not usually a problem for me.
Hunter’s hand cups the back of my head in a gesture that’s surprisingly tender and makes my heart ping. “Wow.”
“Mmmhmm.” That was definitely a wow.
He shifts and uses his fingers to tilt my chin up so he can see my eyes. “You okay?”
“Oh, hell yeah.”
His lips curve into a sexy smile. “Okay, good. That was phenomenal.”
“Brain scrambling.”
“Mind melting.”
I smile too. “Yeah.”
He brushes his knuckles over my cheek. “I missed you, Katertot.”
His words and the nickname bring an unexpected sting to the corners of my eyes. I blink them back. “I missed you, too.”
“I know you sort of work for me now…but it doesn’t feel like that. It feels like you have the power.”
I turn my head slowly side to side. “I like to think of it as a partnership.”
He purses his lips. “Yeah. That’s a good way to think of it. Partners. And…I’m not cutting out this time.”
“What does that mean?” Might as well be up front here.
“I mean…I like being with you. Spending time with you. Laughing with you.” He dips his head to rub his nose alongside mine. “Fucking you.”
I press my lips together. “That sounds like…” I stop. “That sounds like a relationship.”
“Yeah. It does.” He clears his throat.
“Is that okay?” I search his face. He’s the one who went out with the girls who only wanted to date hockey players so he wouldn’t get too attached. “Is that what we’re trying?”
When he asked me in the car if we could try this, I had to think. I like Hunter. I liked him years ago. I probably loved him. I know it’s taking a risk. But maybe we can do this. So I said yes. But is this truly what he wants?
* * *
“Yeah. That is what we’re trying.” He kisses my forehead so tenderly and my heart melts in my chest.
Now we’ve admitted our feelings for each other, we can’t get enough of the sexy times. I’m not complaining.
But that’s not all it is. It’s still fun going for a walk with him or sitting on a patio and people watching. And it’s still hockey season—tonight’s the Stanley Cup final. St. Louis versus Boston. Hunter thinks St. Louis should win. I’m still cheering for Callum.
We watch the game at my place, eating pizza and drinking a beer on the couch, pretending that we’re providing the color commentary, each of us trying to outdo the other with the dirty hockey talk.
“Look at that penetration!” Hunter calls.
I snort laugh. Moments later, I get my own chance. “Zach Zelinsky takes a pounding!”
Hunter grins. “Good one.”
Then the real announcer chimes in with, “Colbert slides his hands down the shaft when he needs to.”
“Did you hear that?” I crack up, falling against Hunter’s big chest which is also shaking with laughter.
I get the next one. “That’s a long shift. Melburn and Treiber need to get off.”
“Ha!” Hunter guffaws. “Jesus, you always make me laugh.” He pauses. “Also, super horny.”
“Hunter!”
“It’s true.” He kisses my nose.
“Well.” I shift against him suggestively. “You’re not the only one.”
St. Louis wins the game and we both watch the celebrations and sadness with the same feelings of recognition and envy. We’ve both been winners and I know Hunter would love to win again, hoisting that beautiful big silver cup.
And when it’s all over, he takes my glass from my hand, sets it on the table with his own, and pulls me onto his lap. With a hand in my hair he kisses me—long, deep, wet kisses that go on and on. Heat builds inside me. I want him so much, I’m dying. Licks of electricity race over my nerve endings.
“I like this shirt.” With a half-smile on his face, he touches the lettering on my T-shirt that says don’t puck with me. “But it’s coming off.”
I lift my arms as he pulls it up and over my head. “It’s okay. You can puck with me if you want.”
He grins. “I want.” He admires my sheer demi-bra, tracing a finger from between my breasts down over my abs. Sensation skitters through me, my already-hard nipples tightening even more. He opens the button of my jeans, lowers the fly and holds my hips so I’m tight against his erection as he kisses my throat, my chest, the inner curves of each breast. He bites one nipple through the sheer fabric, giving me a jolt of exquisite pleasure.