Charming as Puck(55)
My ass hits the horn as I climb into his lap. Neither of us reacts to the noise—he just helps me over, pulling my hips tight against his so I can feel the giant bulge in his jeans.
I rock against him, because oh, I’ve missed him too.
He’s kissing me like he’s starving, like he hasn’t seen me in three years instead of three weeks, like it’ll be three more years before he sees me again.
“God, I missed you,” he gasps into my mouth, and that heady feeling of being wanted, of being seen, of being valued, not because I take care of his pranks and laugh at his jokes, but because we fit—it’s all so intensely right that I don’t know how I survived three weeks of resisting him either.
I grip his shoulders while he squeezes my breasts, still licking into my mouth, those satisfied groans emanating from the back of his throat while I grind over his hard cock.
My right leg is squished between his steel beam of a thigh and the door. The bottom of the steering wheel digs into my lower back, but Nick’s fingers are sneaking under my shirt and stroking my sides, tracing the edges of my bra, and everything fades away except the heady sensations his fingers draw out of my skin.
His touch is feather-light, teetering on the edge of ticklish. He brushes my nipples through the lace of my bra, and pleasure rockets through my core.
“Yes, more,” I gasp.
He unhooks the damn thing with one hand, and suddenly he’s cupping both my breasts, lifting my shirt so he can lick first one nipple, then the other.
“Oh, god, Nick,” I moan, offering him more.
“So fucking delicious,” he rasps before sucking me all the way into his mouth.
Fireworks are ricocheting through my belly, sending jolts of electrified bliss straight to my pussy. I rock harder against him while he snakes one hand between us and unbuttons my jeans.
And then his fingers are stroking me, and he’s still sucking on my nipple, and the entire world is awash in pinks and purples and the silvery shimmer of impending orgasm.
I couldn’t stop my body’s instinctive rhythm against his fingers if I wanted to, and when he slips two inside me, then presses hard on my clit, I shatter without warning, screaming his name, my head thrown back against the top of the car, pleasure spilling out of me while my walls clamp and spasm around his fingers.
He grazes my nipple with his teeth, and my body spirals even higher and harder as my climax bursts free with enough power to light the night sky.
I bear down on his fingers and ride out the waves while he nestles his head between my breasts and whispers, “That’s it, beautiful. That’s my girl.”
When I finally sag against him, as useful as jellyfish, the only syllable I can force from my sleepy lips is, “Wow.”
“You are so fucking hot when you come,” he murmurs. He’s pulling my shirt down, but he’s also sneaking my bra straps down my arms, like he knows a thing or two about taking off a bra under a shirt.
He pulls it out my sleeve and pockets it.
“Did you—” I start, struggling to find where the marshmallow fluff under my skin ends and my bones and muscles begin.
“Gonna need a good luck charm for that shutout tomorrow night.”
I’m still enjoying the lingering fireworks show behind my eyelids, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
“You don’t—”
“Shh.” He puts a finger to my lips. “Nothing else has worked. Let a man have a little motivation. And you are definitely motivation.”
“You’re still very hard,” I point out.
“If you had the view I just had, you would be too.”
My right leg is going numb, and I’m becoming aware of that steering wheel in my back again.
He strokes my back and kisses my temple. “Kami?”
“Hmm?”
“I think I’m gonna like dating you.”
I snuggle closer to him, because yeah, I think I’m gonna like dating him too.
Twenty-Nine
Nick
I get to the arena early Wednesday so I can tape Kami’s bra into the back of my chest protector without the Bergers noticing.
Not because I’m embarrassed to be playing with a pink lacy bra, which still smells like her pussy since I fingered it the entire ride home last night—the bra, not Kami’s pussy, though I would’ve done both if it was safe to stroke and drive—but because if one of them knows, Felicity will know, and we can’t have that, now can we?
I might also get to the arena early because it’s been long enough, and I’ve been happy enough about Sugarbear, that now is mathematically the ideal moment for revenge against Zeus Berger.
Part one of my revenge plan, anyway.
It’s dumb. He’ll think I’m a total idiot.
And he’ll never see part two coming.
After everything’s set up, I head upstairs to wait for Felicity to get into the office. And because she’s Felicity, and she basically has thicker hockey blood than I do, which is fucking impressive, I don’t have to wait long.
“What did you do?” she asks as soon as she walks into her office, which is a hidey-hole between the marketing and accounting departments, since she works in both.
They don’t like her to get bored.
She sometimes works with the trainers in the massage and PT room too, when she’s not using Thrusty to make promo videos with all of my teammates.