Marek (Cold Fury Hockey #11)(43)

Gracen slides one hand to the side of my neck and tilts her head. “We can say this will be a one-time-only thing. We’re drunk, inhibitions are low, and we need to get this out of our systems.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” I say without giving any further thought to the terrible repercussions. I want her too much to try to be all mature and reasonable right now. “And tomorrow, we’ll just go back to being parents of a fantastic kid.”

“I think it’s a brilliant plan,” she says with a drunken but bright smile that makes me feel strangely giddy for some reason.

Of course, I don’t tell her this is the dumbest plan the two of us have ever concocted, and we used to do some dumb stuff when we were younger.

I don’t say another word, because I’m afraid that one of us will eventually sober up enough to stop this insanity. In fact, I don’t even want to waste time taking her into the bedroom.

Not that she doesn’t deserve a soft mattress and a slow seduction, but I can’t wait. I seriously can’t fucking wait, so I pull away from the wall and carry her right into the dining room. I kick the chair on the end of the table out of the way and set her ass down, hating the loss of her heat against me.

Gracen giggles, but I ignore her. Despite how buzzed I am, my hands work remarkably well pulling her sandals off and divesting her of her shirt and bra. I take the briefest of moments to cup her breasts and Gracen’s head falls back with a soft moan.

Jesus, I’m dying.

I put a hand to the center of her chest and push her back until she’s lying flat on the table. I make even quicker work of her shorts, peeling them down her smooth legs and dropping them to the floor. She’s left wearing nothing more than a pair of pale blue lace panties. The outside lighting around my house filters in through the large bay window behind the dining room table, making her skin glow and her eyes sparkle as she watches me.

Hooking my thumbs in her panties, I pull them down her legs as if I’m in no particular hurry, even though I want to fall inside of her right this very minute.

“You remember prom night?” Gracen asks me with her voice all husky with desire.

I look at her, halting with her underwear around her knees. I can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I remember.”

It was her senior prom. I was a sophomore in college. While I wasn’t a fancy dance kind of dude, it was my sincere pleasure to take my girl, who always believed in magic and romance. She’s the type who would want to lie out under the stars and talk about dreams and wishes. She wanted the beautiful dress and the college boyfriend in a tux, and I gave it to her gladly because I loved her.

It was a nice dance and I actually had fun. That night, though, I’d gotten a hotel room and we were a little tipsy from sharing some champagne I’d bought first. When things got hot and heavy between us, which never took long at all, I stripped her naked much like I did tonight. Except I was a little too eager to have at her and I tried to rip her panties off. Like, I tried to shred them, pulling hard, figuring the flimsy material would just split under the attack from my strong hockey hands.

Nope. Couldn’t even get them to stretch past the elastic band.

Gracen had howled at me, rolling over onto her side and curling into a ball she was laughing so hard. She had stopped laughing when I yanked her legs apart, pulled the crotch aside, and shoved my tongue inside of her.

The memory makes me smile. An honest-to-goodness memory of Gracen not marred by any hard feelings I might be harboring.

I slide her panties free of her legs, dropping them to the floor beside her shorts. My palms go to her thighs and I test the softness of her skin by running them up until my thumbs hit her hipbones.

“You are so beautiful laid out on my dining room table,” I tell her softly. Her breath hitches and her eyes flicker with heat. “My own personal feast.”

Cupping her behind her knees, I spread her legs wide and press my face right into her pussy. I breathe in deep, more memories assaulting me. How many times over the years had I eaten Gracen out? Made her come with my tongue? Made her scream while fucking her with my fingers?

I touch my tongue softly to her clit and she cries out. I do it again and again and again. Moving rougher.

Faster.

Gracen’s hips buck and jerk. She plants her heels on the table and tries to press herself up into me.

“Greedy,” I murmur against her pussy.

Gracen was always greedy, but it was something I loved about her. I loved it because as much as she wanted my mouth on her, she loved putting her mouth on me.

She tastes and smells so fucking good that I can’t help bringing my hand to my cock to rub through the material of my shorts. Turning Gracen on never failed to turn me on.

I know she’s close to coming when her hands slide into my hair and she attempts to hold my face still against her. She sucks in a breath, and with a hard press of my tongue to her clit, she lets loose a long, trembling orgasm.

“I need you inside of me,” Gracen moans as she shudders.

She always wanted me inside of her right after I got her off with my mouth. And she would be all hot and slick, ready for me. Demanding I fuck her hard, which would almost always make her come again really fast.

God…the memories.

I want to make her come even harder this time. I stand up straight and fumble with my zipper, pulling out my swollen dick that actually hurts when I squeeze it.