Get Inked: A Pucked Series and Clipped Wings Crossover Novella (Pucked #5.5)(35)
Randy grips the boards, his fingertips going white as his gaze lifts over my head, likely to my skating partner, before it settles on me again. “Can you blame me?”
“Blame you for what exactly?”
“Wanting you to smell like me.”
I totally called it. “So you’re aiming for twenty-first-century caveman, now? Is this your version of peeing on a tree to mark your territory?”
He frowns. “Dogs do that, not cavemen. Or evolved cavemen, like me, apparently.”
I prop a fist on my hip. “You know what I mean. It’s the same thing.”
“It’s not even remotely the same.”
He’s being antagonistic on purpose. He knows it gets me hot. Right now I’m legitimately irritated, though. And I’m offended that it seems a lot like he doesn’t trust me. Although, now isn’t really the time to have it out about trust issues. “We’re not arguing about this now.”
“I didn’t realize it was an argument at all. That guy has his hands all over you. We have sex to this song all the damn time. I think it’s reasonable for me to want him to know you’re not available.”
I didn’t even consider how often we get it on to the song. “And you thought the best way to accomplish that was by eating me out in the locker room ten minutes before I had to be on the ice with him?”
“You seemed to enjoy yourself.”
My magic marble agrees. “That’s beside the point. We’ll be talking about this later.”
“That sounds like a good idea. You can tell me exactly what you liked best about my eating your * in the changing room and if there’s anything you’d want me to do differently next time.”
“I’m not kidding.”
“Neither am I. I take eating your * very seriously.” Randy manages not to crack a smile. “Wanna introduce me to Finlay?”
“So he can run when he sees you coming for him?”
“Pretty much.”
Read on for a preview of
Hot, wet suction and a discordant chilly tickle across my stomach pulled me from sleep. It took a few seconds to figure out what was going on.
“Sorry I woke you.”
Sarah, who I’d been seeing for the past six months, followed her insincere statement with the return of her mouth to my very awake cock.
The rest of me took a little longer to shake off the haze.
“Time is it?” I reached out in the dark to touch some part of her. I met damp hair. She must’ve come directly from the shower.
“Late.” She licked up the shaft, making me groan.
The clock on the nightstand told me it was three a.m., in glowing red numbers. Sarah’s late arrival wasn’t unusual. She worked long hours as a waitress at a strip club just outside the Chicago Loop. Middle-of-the-night visits were sometimes all we could manage. “Don’t you have an early class?”
She popped off, but her lips moved against the head as she spoke. “You’re worried about what time my class is right now?”
I hooked my hands under her arms and pulled her up, then flipped her over.
“I wasn’t done,” she complained.
“I think that’s my new favorite alarm clock.”
Sarah parted her legs so I could fit myself between them. She was so, so naked. I kissed along her neck; her skin was shower-warm and damp. She’d used my body wash, but her hair smelled like the shampoo she kept in my apartment for nights like these—mint and rosemary.
Sarah linked her legs behind my back and smoothed her hands down my arms, over the ink she couldn’t see in the dark. She made an impatient noise when I brushed my lips over hers but ignored her invitation for tongue.
“Kiss me.” She nipped at my bottom lip.
“You don’t want me to rinse with mouthwash? I think I have mints in the nightstand.”
She gripped the back of my neck, her fingernails digging in as she fused her mouth to mine. I guess she didn’t care about sleep breath.
Sarah was rarely aggressive when it came to sex. She liked things soft and easy most of the time, and she got off on the teasing almost as much as the actual f*cking. But not tonight—or this morning, as it were.
She shifted against me, lining everything up. I was still half foggy from being woken by a blow job.
I pulled back, which wasn’t easy with the way she was latched on to my neck and my tongue. “Take it easy, sugar.”
“I missed you.” Her fingers danced across my cheek. “I want you.”
“You got me. I’m right here.”
Sarah couldn’t seem to decide what she wanted to do with her hands. They were in my hair, down my back, grabbing my ass as she lifted her hips and I slid low. She was ready with the condom before I could protest again and slow us down.
I stopped fighting what she wanted. It’d been a week since we’d seen each other. If she didn’t have to leave too early in the morning, we could have a slower second round.
When she pushed on my chest, I rolled to the side and lay down beside her. Sarah’s wet hair swept across my neck as she straddled my hips. It was too dark to see the soft, delicate features of her face as she rolled on the condom and took me inside. She braced her palms on my chest as she rode me, swiveling her hips, grinding hard until she came. She was nearly silent, emitting only the faintest moans, barely audible over the sound of the fan running in the corner of my room. I knew she was coming only by the way her rhythm faltered and her nails dug into my skin.