Mister Hockey (Hellions Angels #1)(30)

Well he did. But in an entirely different way.

She slung her arms around his neck, locking them into place. “Where are we going?”

“When I have you the first time, I’m doing it right,” he growled. “In my own bed.”

She heaved a happy sigh.

He arched a brow as he walked, amused. “You like that?”

“You said the first time.” They ducked into a room. “That means there’s going to be a second.”

Laughter rumbled through his chest, a deep baritone boom. “Greedy girl.”

She didn’t have time to study the surroundings. Only register that his spicy masculine scent intensified and that the walls were painted a warm gray. A Hellions jersey hung framed over a black leather chair.

He tossed her on the bed, crawling over her before she’d had a chance to regain her breath. “Tell me.” He nuzzled her neck, sucking the sensitive skin as she arched, her breasts pressed tight against his hard slabs of muscle. “You want me to get inside that pretty pussy?”

Oh, lord. He was going to make her ask for it.

She nodded. “Mmm-hmm.”

His grin turned wicked as he leaned down and licked the hollow of her throat before blowing on it softly. “Say please.”

Scratch that, he was going to make her beg.

Little did he know that she was more than ready to crawl over broken glass, up a hill, in a blizzard as lava, ash and hellfire rained down.

“Pretty,” she whimpered, “please on a caramel fudge strawberry banana split with five cherries on top.”

He tugged open a drawer on the side table. She didn’t look down. Didn’t stare as he tugged down his boxer briefs to reveal his thick cock, opened the foil or slid the condom on. It was as if a perfect spell had been cast. She was afraid to move—to breathe—or the moment might disappear faster than a soap bubble.

Instead, she studied the small vein on his right temple. The one that made an appearance on television during stressful games, that one that indicated he was determined. That the other side was about to get destroyed. Except this time she was the opponent, and the idea of getting destroyed never felt so much like winning.

He held himself over her, bracing his torso on his forearms while his lower half sank onto her, hot and heavy. The hard swell of his cock nudged at her center. “You want this?” He bent, searching out her lips, breathing the question into her mouth. “All of me?”

Her throat constricted so tight that speech was impossible. The “yes” came out a muffled whimper as she gave a frantic nod and opened her legs, hands pressing on his lower back, right at the top of his rock-hard ass. Begging him to quit toying. To get closer. To hold nothing back. To be hers.

He didn’t enter, instead he rolled his hips in a shallow thrust that did nothing to quench her need. Her heart clanged. “Jed,” she gasped. “Jed, please.”

As if sensing she was about to fall apart based on pure anticipation alone, he gave in with a slow, decisive lunge. A half smile played on his lips even as the cords on his neck drew tight, but he never closed his eyes. No, they burned her inch by inch until she was consumed, burning from the inside out.

He held himself there, buried to the root, so deep it was impossible to say where her body ended and his began. Sweat slicked his chest, his body heat intensifying the cedar scent of his aftershave as feverish blood thrummed through her own veins. Everything was this moment and yet it was as if she’d drifted somewhere new, beyond time or reason. As short as a breath, as long as a lifetime.

It was Jed who did this to her. Jed West. The man she’d lusted over for years from afar, separated by television screens or stadium seats, and her own starstruck awe.

But he was so much more than Jed West, hockey star. He was simply Jed, a man stripped to nothing but pure animalistic need. Need for her.

How extraordinary.

Extraordinary that in his arms she was anything but ordinary. Not an easy lay to be used and discarded. The way he stared down at her was full of wonder, reverence, as if he couldn’t believe his luck.

In fact, he shuddered. Not a lot. But as he eased out his cock and then buried it again in a tender push, a jolt ran through him. He was taking the moment achingly slow. Savoring it—no, scratch that, more specifically, savoring her like a delicious tiramisu, his last meal on Earth.

“Fuck,” he groaned softly. “Fuck, Breezy. So good.” His breath fell hot upon her cheek as he wrapped his big hands around her thighs, thumbs spreading her lips, and took his time: stretching, feeding himself inside inch by incredible inch until he had nothing more to give.

Until she’d taken everything and was filled, hips arching and heart brimming.

A dark lock of hair tumbled over his forehead. “Hey.”

The single word of greeting was so unexpected that a breathless giggle erupted from her chest. “Well, hello there.”

“This okay?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the single most amazing experience of my life, but . . .” She clenched her inner muscles. Good thing she practiced her Kegels on a regular basis because he gave a guttural moan, his fiery gaze like a lit fuse, threatening to incinerate her into the mattress. She licked her lips and locked her ankles around his muscular ass. “Put your back into it, Cap. Oh my God. Oh my good God. Give me everything you got.”

“Christ.” His gruff laughter vibrated through her as he inclined his head, rested his forehead on hers and bore down with his hips. “You’re something else.”