Delayed Penalty (Crossing the Line, #1)(77)

"Evan..." She breathed. My dick was so f*cking hard it hurt, actually ached. "Fuck me the way a hockey player would."

My breath came out in a growl when she said shit like that. I struggled with that because of what she went through. I constantly had to remind myself that she'd tell me if she ever felt uncomfortable with anything we did—she would tell me.

"You've been rough before, right?"

I grinned. I was sure I had Callie to thank for that one.

"I heard—"

My kiss cut her off. "I don't care what you heard. You're different."

"I want you. Not someone you're pretending to be."

"I'm not pretending." I tried to play off my tone, but I was concerned with where this was going. "With you…this is me."

Ami looked at me and then smiled. "I want it a little rough. I just want to see the side all those puck bunnies saw. I want to see Evan Masen the NHL defenseman."

"There wasn't that many. You know that, right?"

Ami rolled her eyes. "Still…"

I wasn't getting out of this. "Fuck, fine." She noticed when I started to hesitate.

"Stop holding back," she pleaded, pressing her lips to my throat. "I want you to lose control with me. I'm not a china doll, damn it. You won't break me, and I'm not scared of you." She looked at my amused expression. "You don't always have to be so gentle."

"I'm not," I teased. "I pulled your hair once."

She glared. "Not at all what I mean."

She bit down on my neck, just above my collarbone. I let out a low growl as my lips parted, and I started to pant. My fingers curled against her, but still, I couldn't do it.

"You'll be sore tomorrow. Ready for that?"

She looked at her underwear on the floor, and if I didn't know any better, you would have thought I had just proposed judging by the glow on her face.

I wasn't sure what Callie had told Ami about us, but I had never seen Ami that into sex. She was screaming and moaning, and f*ck if I didn't give it to her. Once I got into it, it felt good to finally relax with her and not have to be so gentle.

Her mouth fell open, steam rolled around us, mixing with our heavy breath. Her fingers clawed at my back and hair as I buried myself in her neck, frantically pumping into her over and over again. Our skin slapped together, and the bathroom echoed with desperate cries and grunts.

Her legs clamped around me, digging into the backs of my thighs with her heels. When I knew and felt that she had come, I couldn't hold back. My hand returned to her hair, clutching at the strands as my mouth found her neck. My body stiffened, and my mouth closed around her skin, biting as I released inside her.

I could feel her heart pounding against my chest matching mine. Beads of water streamed over her smiling face as I untangled us. My head dropped against the wall when she moved behind me to go under the spray of water. She tipped her head back wetting her hair. "Fuck, you're gonna kill me before next season." I panted.

Ami giggled. "We make a good team."

I sighed with a satisfied hum. "That we do."

We had only been sitting on the couch all but twenty minutes when Ami giggled beside me, looking over at me. "Do you have some kind of team ritual you do to get rid of this?" she asked, running her fingers over my jaw which was covered in a thick beard from the playoffs. I could grow one hell of a beard when I needed to.

"No ritual." I chuckled, pulling her closer so I could tickle her neck with it a few more times. "I just usually shave it off some."

"Can I watch?"

"You want to watch me shave?" I asked, amused and curious as to why she would want to do that.

"Yeah, why not?"

I shrugged and stood. "All right, come on." I motioned with a nod to the bathroom. Ami followed.

With her sitting on the counter in front of me, I reached my hands behind my head, grabbing the neck of my shirt, and pulled it over my head, tossing it to the floor.

Ami's eyes went to my chest and then to my stomach.

My lips twisted into a smirk, knowing she was probably not far from the thoughts that I was having since she was wearing my jersey and not a goddamn thing else.

She watched as I pulled out the clippers I used. I never did a complete shave. I always liked to have a little scruff. When my arm lifted, Ami caught the tattoo on my ribs that I knew she'd been eyeing for a while. Though she never asked, I knew she was curious as to why I had it and one on my shoulder. I had a few more on my forearms, but she'd gotten to know those ones pretty well over the months.

"What does it mean?" she asked, her fingers ghosting over the black markings, tracing over them with the lightest touch. It had no meaning. It was a symbol of some sort, but I couldn't tell you for the life of me what the hell it meant. I was drunk when I got it.

"Nothing that I know of," I teased, remembering that night I started out in Pittsburgh and woke up in Orlando.

"Why'd you get it?" Starry eyes found mine.

"I was drunk and fifteen and really stupid. Sometimes, I don't always think," I teased playfully, rolling my eyes. "I have my moments of weakness." My hands moved to her thighs, trailing up them ever so lightly. She shivered, her legs wrapping around mine. She bumped the clippers beside her when she did so, sending them into the sink.