Marek (Cold Fury Hockey #11)(59)
My dick responds by swelling even more, a ripple of pleasure flowing through me from her words and the tight contraction of wet flesh around me.
I groan again, dropping my forehead so it rests against her. I let a huff of frustration escape through my teeth that I can’t give her the words that she probably wants in return, but I can make her feel good.
That I know I can do.
Pushing up off her, I plant my hands into the mattress and lock my arms tight. My muscles flex and bunch, not in some vain attempt to impress her, but to hold myself steady while I start to fuck her.
My hips pump and my cock fills her up. Her body bounces and jerks from my fucking, breasts jiggling beautifully with pebbled nipples. So damn sexy that it’s hard for me to look at without wanting to blow my load all over them.
I shut my eyes, concentrate on the moans and gasps I’m wringing from Gracen, who is getting exactly what she asked for. Her chest starts heaving ,and when I hear tiny little whimpers of need, I know she’s close to coming. That’s her tell, and I pick up the pace wanting to punch an explosive one out of her.
“Yes,” she gasps as her legs tighten around me and her fingers dig into my chest.
I slam into her hard. “Fuck, this is good.”
My balls start to contract, my lower back tightens, and I experience one microsecond of pure nothingness before I start to come. Then I’m taken by storm with a bone-jarring orgasm that seems to rip me apart. As my cock unloads, I bark out unintelligible words that might be gratitude, and I’m vaguely aware of Gracen still whimpering.
Fuck…she didn’t come.
I grit my teeth, my sensitive cock still pulsing, and keep fucking the woman who loves me. I bring my fingers to her clit, press down on it while I continue driving into her, and plant deep when I feel her break apart. It’s always the same, a slight stiffening of her body before she arches her back in ecstasy, a long blissful moan filling the air around me. Her pussy grips me so hard as she comes I see stars and possibly experience a miniorgasm as another shudder of pleasure courses through me.
“Goddamn,” I mutter through gritted teeth, feeling all at once dizzy and weak.
I drop down onto her, using my elbows on the mattress not to crush her completely. Gracen turns her head to the side and I press my face into her neck.
We just lie there, both of us panting from the exertion.
From the cataclysmic orgasms.
From the jarring words that were uttered and those that were not.
Neither one of us say anything, and I use the silence as permission to go to sleep. I roll to my side, taking Gracen with me. She hooks a leg over mine, wraps her arm around my waist, and snuggles into me. I hold her tight, wanting to say something and yet wanting to ignore conversation with her forever.
What we just experienced—fucking or making love or whatever—was some next-level shit. It means something that what we just had felt better than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life. Yet I still have that tiny doubt inside that maybe this is just physical and that’s all it will ever be.
For now, though, I’m given a reprieve. After a few minutes, Gracen’s breathing evens out and she falls into a deep sleep.
It takes me a lot longer to do the same.
Chapter 24
Gracen
I unlock the front door of Marek’s house and carry the grocery bags in while Lilly trails behind me. The beeping alarm panel reminds me to punch in the disarm code, then I’m shutting the door.
Today was the start of three consecutive days I have off, and I intend to enjoy every bit of it with Lilly. I took her to the Marbles museum in downtown Raleigh this morning, then we went clothes shopping. It’s amazing and hilarious that my almost four-year-old child has fashion sense. She’s very particular about her look too. I take it as a very real sign she’s growing up way too fast that she’s shunning jeans and casual clothes for frilly dresses, lacy socks, and shiny black patent leather shoes. Lilly is tall for her age and is growing like a weed. It seems like all I do is buy new clothes for her, and I was surprised to find out today that my almost four-year-old is wearing six-year-old sizes.
Lilly gives a tiny yawn as we walk into the kitchen. I put down the paper bags filled with ingredients for tonight’s dinner—white chicken chili—and turn to ruffle Lilly’s hair. “Want to take a nap?”
She shakes her head. She’s well past her nap time, but I thought I’d offer because of that yawn. Lilly is still taking a nap at school, but she’s almost impossible to get down here at the house, and I’ve practically given up. I figure she’ll sleep if she’s tired.
My phone rings from inside my purse, which is still slung over my shoulder. I drop it to the counter and fish out my phone. Taking one look at the screen showing an incoming video chat, I hold it outward to Lilly and grin. “It’s Mimi and G-Pa.”
Gone is any trace of fatigue as her blue eyes—so much like Marek’s—brighten. She snags the phone from me and taps on the green button to answer the call.
I step around behind her, bending over her shoulder to peer at the screen. My mom and dad’s faces pop up as they sit close together on their living room couch. Behind them is a cream crocheted blanket my mom made, and a piercing pain of homesickness hits me right in the gut.
“Hey, Lilly Bug,” my father says, his teeth gleaming as he smiles broadly at this granddaughter.