The Penalty Box (Vancouver Wolves Hockey #3)(84)

He hugged me, held my hand, cradled me while I slept, but he was as chaste as a nun when it came to any more baby-making business.

I knew what was going on. He was afraid of hurting me or the baby. I didn’t want to make him talk about it, because the guy had already been stripped emotionally in the last few weeks. Forcing him to talk about more of his feelings was exactly what he didn’t need.

What he needed was some hot, intense sex. A lot of it.





*



I decided to rely on my old friend, vodka. I invited Ryan and Zoey for dinner and I poured a lot of wine. Then, when I served a blueberry cheesecake—because lately, I seemed to love anything cake—I brought out the vodka. Ice cold, a premium brand.

My sober self enjoyed watching Mica loosen up and relax. He and Ryan told story after story about hockey, each of them getting funnier and more outrageous. When I sent them home in a cab, Zoey’s cheeks were flushed hot pink and Ryan was so shit-faced he could barely walk.

Mica wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. “Mmm, thank you for tonight. I needed that.”

That wasn’t all he needed.

I felt like a villain about to take advantage of my prey. I waited until he was fast asleep, snoring softly beside me, before I slipped out of bed. I changed into a racy teddy made of sheer black lace with a tiny see-through thong designed to showcase the goods, not hide them.

I kneeled beside him, debating where I wanted to start. I delicately pushed his boxers down and sucked him into my mouth. He moaned.

His cock grew hard in my mouth and his hips were moving in his sleep. It didn’t take much to make his poor, deprived cock rock hard. I sat up and straddled him, looking down at how perfect he was. Never had I seen such a beautiful man. I stroked him until pre-cum dripped onto my hand.

He awoke with a start, his eyes wide and on my face. I raised my hips and slowly drew his cock along my apex, pushing aside the flimsy fabric so we could touch sex against sex. He moved so fast, flipping me onto my back and pushing into me with one long thrust.

I could see his eyes widen as he became more conscious, so I wrapped my legs tight around his waist and tried on my best dirty talk.

“Your wife needs to be fucked, Mica. I need you so bad.”

He growled, unable to fight himself, and he thrust into me a few times.

He shook his head. I could tell he was trying to stop. Trying to get himself under control.

“My pussy needs your cock so bad. It’s so lonely and horny. And it wants your big crazy cock to do crazy things.”

I never said I was good at dirty talk.

But my words seemed to drive him right over the edge. This was no gentle lovemaking, where he treated me like spun glass. This was some good old-fashioned fucking.

I egged him on. “Harder, faster. I need you to fuck me like you mean it. Pound into me, Mica. I need your cock.”

And my husband obliged. The guy was built to fuck. It seemed a shame to waste that on tender kisses and slow, shallow thrusts. I came three times. Then he flipped me onto my hands and knees and made me come a fourth time. Only then did he let himself come.

He shouted in Russian when he came before landing on the bed beside me.

He was breathing hard. I was breathing harder.

“We shouldn’t have done that.” His eyes were on my breasts.

“Wrong. My body needs sex. A lot of sex.”

And there came that smile. The one that curled my toes.





*



“Charlie, are you ready?” Mica called.

I stood at the balcony doors. “Sasha won’t come in.”

He came to stand beside me. “Sasha!”

Sasha panted. Mica took off after him. Sasha thought it was a big game. Over the hot tub lid, through the hedge, knocking over deck chairs. They had a fast-paced game of chase before Mica conceded defeat.

“Get the dog treats.”

“The trainer said we’re just rewarding bad behavior.”

He was out of breath. “We are, but we’re already late.”

“We’re failing as parents,” I whispered as we tempted Sasha with a dog cookie.

He laughed. “Yeah, but look how cute he is.”

It took a lot of cajoling, but we finally got Sasha inside.





*



We arrived at the rink for the annual kids’ charity skate. I wanted to put on skates, but Mica forbid it. So, I sat on the edge and watched him skate around the ice with all the little kids. As usual, when he moved on skates, I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off him.

He bent down on one knee and took pictures with the kids. He led them in a long conga line. He skated backward, just out of their reach, and made them chase him.

A little girl wearing a purple snowsuit valiantly tried to keep up to the group, but despite her best efforts, they were lapping her. In frustration, she sat down on the ice and started to cry.

I watched with interest as Mica stopped in front of her, kneeling to her level, talking to her quietly. She was explaining something intently to him, pointing around the ice, and he was listening seriously. He said something to her and then she agreed and stood up.

I watched as he bent down and put his big hands under her arms. He started to skate, pushing her around the ice. When she wobbled, he steadied her. When her feet got tangled up and dragged behind her, he lifted her and righted her on her feet. She laughed so hard, you could hear her clear across the ice.