He pushes his ass up off the couch, thrusting inside me, and I can tell this isn’t going to last long. My breasts shake as I let him set the punishing pace from below me for a minute. Then my hands land on his shoulders and I move up and down as he grabs my ass, widening my ass cheeks apart and increasing my frenzy.
“We’re not even done and I can’t wait to fuck you again. You’ve put a fucking spell on me, kotik. I can’t get enough.” His words only spur on my orgasm.
“Oh God, I don’t want to come yet. I don’t want this to end.” I struggle to get a full breath.
But once he urges me up and his mouth covers my nipple, I’m done. I no longer have the control to keep my climax at bay, and I come with his name on my lips.
He doesn’t relent, continuing to push into my deepest depths while sweat beads on his forehead. He smashes his lips to mine, his tongue diving into my hot mouth as his body tenses under me.
“Fuck!” Then he goes lax.
Our kiss turns languid and lazy for a while. Eventually I feel him soften inside me, so I slide off of him. He takes the condom and quickly disposes of it in the kitchen. I watch his ass the entire walk over. Then he returns to where I lay spent on the couch, and he runs his fingers up and down my spine.
“Better than I ever imagined,” he whispers against my curls.
“Candy time?” I smile expectantly.
He stands, picks me up, and carries me into the bedroom. “Not even close.”
I giggle as he slams the bedroom door and tosses me on the bed.
I should’ve known he’d fuck like a porn star. He’s got the dick of one.
“Are you ready for our fifth date?” I ask her, sitting on a stool at her breakfast bar.
Last night was crazy. I don’t think I’ve ever had that much sex in one night, but this morning, I could barely make breakfast without thinking about how I wanted to be back in that bed with her.
“Fifth date, huh?” she says, walking out of her bedroom in a shirt that just hits the waistband of her flowy skirt. Her hair is slightly damp, her makeup barely there. She’s beautiful as always. “Am I dressed okay for it?”
“It’ll do.” I shrug.
She stops and stares at me for a moment. “I think I should’ve held out longer.”
She walks past me and I pull her into me, spurring a giggle I’ll never get enough of. “You’re stunning as always.”
“Better.” She kisses my cheek. “We have to talk about a few things.” Then she’s gone from my arms and her tone has changed.
“What do we have to talk about?” I stand and swing my keys around my finger. I ran home this morning to get clothes, and even that felt like it took an eternity.
“The fact I’m your therapist.”
I open the front door and she walks through and waits for me to shut the door before she locks it. “I relinquished you.”
“Yes, on a notepad, I remember.”
“I hear a but?” I open my car’s passenger door for her.
“But Mr. Gerhardt doesn’t know that. He’s still expecting one more session. I’m lucky he hasn’t cornered me about it yet because I have nothing to tell him. Nothing that says you’ll go easier on the ice.” She slides into my car, pulling her skirt all the way in before I shut the door.
I have to tell her at some point about Armen and my past. I don’t need a therapist to tell me why I take the role of protector with my teammates. I’m fully aware of why.
“Maybe now that all my sexual frustration is gone, I’ll be nicer to those assholes.” I shut my door and start the engine.
“Since you can’t talk to me, do you want me to refer you out?” Her voice is hesitant, as though she’s unsure how I’ll react.
“I don’t need to talk to anyone. I’m good.” I back out of the parking spot and head onto the road.
She says my name as though I don’t know myself. I got through Armen’s death fine without the help of a therapist. I can get through this too.
“Honestly, I’m good. I’ll try to control myself more.” I kiss her at the stoplight.
She nods, but we’re definitely not on the same page here—she believes therapy is a cure-all and I’m unwilling to open my chest and let my heart fall out.
Fifteen minutes of silence later, we arrive at the location of our date. We’ll have to address therapy again, but not today. I don’t want to fight.
“Costco?” She stares at the big red sign.
People file out with carts overfilled with large quantities of items.
“The food station?” she asks.
I laugh, turning off the engine. “Better. Samples.”
A smile tips her lips, and she shakes her head. “Okay, definitely original, Maksim.”
She opens her door and I meet her at the trunk of my car, take her hand, and lead her in.
“It’s a secret club,” I whisper, while pushing the cart.
“Just your regular ol’ speakeasy,” she counters, and I laugh. I’m not sure I’ve ever laughed as much as I do around her. “Why the cart?”
“I have to pick up a few things. If there’s anything you want, just put it in the cart and it’s on me.” I wink and she nods.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
We’re clearly being sarcastic, but that’s one of the reasons why I love spending time with her.
On the way to the samples area, I grab the protein powder I use for shakes and some chicken. Paisley grabs a bottle of wine and some muffins. We clearly have different priorities at Costco.
Once we get to the food area, there’s a sampler out of some taquitos.
“Ladies first.” I motion to the tray.
“Oh, how gentlemanly of you.” She takes two and feeds me one before eating hers. “What do you think?” she asks after she swallows hers.
“Good. Want to look around a bit more?”
“Sure.”
I put some coconut water in the cart, then toilet paper and paper towels. All the stuff I know we’ve been running low on lately. Paisley peruses the books, reading the backs or inside flaps of each one she picks up.
“Do you read?” she asks while looking at the book in her hand.
“Nope.”
“Why not?” She puts down the book, never putting one in the cart.
“I have a lot of shit to do. Relaxing with a book isn’t on the top of my list.”
“Not even for laying out on the beach?”
I chuckle. “I don’t lay out on the beach.”
She stops and stares at me as if I’m crazy. “Never?”
“If I’m on the beach, I’m playing volleyball or throwing a frisbee or actually swimming.”
“Well, just so you know, if we ever do a beach day, I prefer being lazy and sitting in a lounge chair with a book and some kind of frozen daiquiri in hand.”
I pretend to write it down. “Noted.”
She puts her arm through mine, kissing me on the cheek. My chest swells at her easy affection. I hope she feels the same about me—that she can’t get enough.
We eat some more samples, and she insists on buying a jumbo-sized box of Greek yogurt ice cream treats and I give in like an exhausted dad to a pleading child. “You do know the samples are always better than when you bring them home?”