Ten first dates, p.8
Ten First Dates, page 8
“I—” My brain screeches, shifting gears. We just spent an hour at the bar, talking. Most fun I’ve had in months. Years, maybe. “About what?”
“I know who you are,” she whispers. “I know what this is.”
The Ex Captain. My nickname in Montreal was a LOLZ joke when I was a captain with a string of famous exes and some infamous one-night stands.
Now I’m just an old guy on a bad team, and my latest girlfriend dumped me before anyone knew we were together. The nickname hits differently when you’re a literal ex-captain. But I won’t let that maudlin thought derail me from my mission here. And one thing I know about this woman for sure—she likes the banter, and she likes it when I let her have the upper hand. “And I don’t know who you are or what this is. So you’re at an advantage, Jersey Girl.”
“What this is? We’re going to have sex.”
“Best news I’ve heard all night.”
She doesn’t tell me who she is, again. I’m going with it. The buzz helps make it not matter.
She swipes the tip of her tongue over her lower lip. “It’s going to be dirty.”
Damn straight it will be. I have plans for that tongue. “Even better.”
“And then you won’t be back this way for a year.”
Minor detail. “Let me tell you about this thing called an airplane.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not flying somewhere for a hook-up. I don’t date hockey players. I don’t do this. It’s one night.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder if she picked me because I was a good bet for that being my preference, too. It’s dwarfed by my newfound addiction to the taste of her skin.
I curl a strand of her glossy, perfect hair around one of my fingers. “When you change your mind, you know how to find me.”
“I won’t.” She sways against me. “Want to see what I’ve got going on under this jersey?”
Is Gretzky the Great One? I pick her up, loving the way her legs curl around my waist, and carry her to the bed.
CHAPTER FIVE
Harper
Our second kiss happens as Kieran lays me down on my back. His hands cradle me down to the mattress, gentle as anything, as his mouth aggressively gives me a preview of what I hope he wants to do to the rest of my body.
I shouldn’t be surprised at how strong or flexible a professional athlete is, but we’re both more than a little tipsy, and he’s wearing dress clothes—and he still floats me down to the mattress with ease.
Maybe custom tailoring makes the fitted shirt and the fine-wool pants operate differently on his body.
Stop analyzing his clothes, Harper. Even half-blitzed, I’m managing to overthink what should be a turn-the-brain-off-and-just-experience-this kind of night.
“I’ve got condoms,” I gasp as he yanks off my boots, then peels off my leggings.
“How many?”
The standard little pack I buy every few months, just in case. “Three, I think.”
“That’s a good start. I’ve got one in my wallet, as well.” He works his way down to my hips. “On second thought, I want you to leave the jersey on while I lick you.”
Of course he does.
I want to roll my eyes, but his mouth is distractingly hot and perfect on the top of my thigh.
Who kisses someone there? It’s like four inches off target. A strangely pleasant miss.
He sucks my flesh into his mouth.
Oh. So pleasant.
His teeth scrape over the just-loved spot, and I arch off the bed, all my nerve endings firing like a mini fireworks display. He repeats the slow kiss, suck, and bite on the inside of my thigh, and then he peels the elastic edge of my panties up just enough to do it again on the edge of my mound.
“Kieran…”
“Groan my name. It gets me hard.” I snort, and he lifts his head, a charming grin dancing on his face. “It does.”
“Oh, I’m sure it does.”
“You’re such a fucking challenge to impress,” he growls. His eyes glitter. “I like it.”
Then he yanks the crotch of my panties to the side.
Heat floods my torso as he nuzzles his face between my thighs, his lips brushing against my sex, then his tongue teasing at the seam of my pussy.
Of course he’s good at this, I think desperately. He’s good at everything he does, and I wanted the full Kieran Marsh experience. So stop fighting it.
I toss my arms over my head, giving myself up to the turmoil-y goodness that is happening inside me.
One night with a professional hockey player. A sex god, by all early evidence. A funny, quick-witted guy with a talented mouth and a charming smile.
I may have set out tonight to learn something about this kind of man, to see how a certain type acts once the game is over and the fans go home. But I’ve stumbled into something else here.
Something I might want to cherish forever.
So I open the little box in the back of my mind where I keep my worries and resentments, and I put Harper Roberts in that box.
Tonight, I’m the girl in the jersey. A secret hockey fan, a not-so-secret fan of Kieran Marsh’s tongue, and a full-and-present participant in what happens in the next few hours.
He sets his free hand on my inner thigh, pressing that leg up and away. Revealing more of me to his lapping tongue, his sucking mouth.
I groan his name again. His body rocks, and I imagine him grinding his hips into the mattress as he eats me out, my wicked taste all he needs to get twisted up. Oh, and his name on my lips, apparently.
“Kieran,” I whisper again for good measure, my pulse leaping with the breathy syllables.
He rears up, his lips slick, his eyes wild, and he drags my underwear down my legs. “Need you naked,” he barks.
That’s hot.
I roll the jersey off, and he yanks up the t-shirt I was wearing underneath it. “Bare tits all night long?”
Now he’s groaning my name as he rolls us over, spreading me wide on top of him. A naked woman perched in the lap of a fully dressed hockey player.
Quite the cli—
Nope.
Shove. In. The. Box.
Because the look in his eyes is all mine tonight. That heated, needy, animalistic expression…it makes my skin warm and my muscles loose. Makes me roll my shoulders back, putting a little jiggle in those bare tits he likes so much.
His gaze hooded, he cups my slight swells, pinching my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. “You’re so pretty,” he says, and it’s reverent.
I hope I remember that line in the morning. The way he says it makes my thighs ache, and I rock a little.
He drags his attention to where my legs are splayed. “Look at you, all turned on for me.”
I blush and don’t look down. I’m probably making a mess on his expensive suit pants, but he’s the one who sat me here.
“Come here,” he growls, and I tip forward, laughing as I catch myself on the headboard, as he drags my hips up his body and settles me on his face.
Oh. Yes.
His entire mouth covers me, sucking and licking and pulling at my pussy until I’m shaking and humping his face.
He mutters something, either a demand for me to come or a question if I can, and then he pulls my clit into his mouth, a hard, sustained suck that sends me flying.
As I sag forward, resting my face on the headboard while the aftershocks of the orgasm ripple through me, he grips my hips firmly, holding me upright.
Then, maybe once he’s ascertained I’m not going to fall over, he scoots out from under me and spins around, covering me from behind. He kisses my shoulder and grinds his hips against my ass. “That was so fucking hot. Let’s do that again after I get inside you, okay?”
Is there any other answer to that than yes? I twist my head enough to kiss him, and he takes my mouth in a slow, sexy mood shifter.
“Your turn to get naked,” I whisper.
“Whatever you want.” He flashes a wicked grin, then gets to work on his shirt buttons. My mouth drops open as I watch over my shoulder, and I spin around as he steps off the bed to get rid of his pants. I put my hand on his bare chest when he returns, his wallet in hand. I stop him from crawling on top of me so I can take a minute and appreciate the defined shape of his body. The ridges and valleys, the lean muscle flexing hard beneath his warm skin.
The most mouthwatering part is above his hips, the Adonis belt—that’s what the pervy hockey fan in me calls it—or his inguinal ligament—and I curse my nursing training for trying to ruin a perfectly hot moment.
But nothing can ruin just how tasty that curve over his hip is. I want to lick him there, a long, slow taste of his skin.
Suddenly his kiss, suck, bite move on my thigh doesn’t seem so strange.
“Whatever I want?” I trail my fingers down to his cock, which feels warm and thick and extra hard in my fist. “I want this in my mouth.”
CHAPTER SIX
Kieran
I tumble to the side, stretching out with my head against the pillows, and she follows, crawling between my legs. She mimics what I did, sinking her teeth lightly into my thigh, then grinning with a joy that hits me right in the chest.
It’s not the tequila talking. I don’t remember when a hook-up has ever been this fun. How little sleep can I get away with tonight?
Fuck it, I’ll nap on the plane.
Her fingers skim up the inside of my thigh, a featherlight touch that makes my cock throb. Her gaze locks onto the heavy weight of it, and the caress of her attention alone is enough to make my hips jerk. She smiles and lays another gentle biting kiss on my skin. I moan at the perfect swipe of her tongue, and she gives me a wide-eyed, don’t wake the neighbours look.
“It’s okay to have loud sex in a hotel room.” I grin. That might be the tequila talking.
But I get it. She’s a good girl who doesn’t want to be rude. She’d be deeply embarrassed if the front desk had to call and tell us to keep it down because her wicked little tongue makes me unhinged.
“Give me something to do with my mouth then.” I slide my gaze between her legs. “Spin around and we can sixty-nine.”
She laughs.
I’m not joking.
Then she wraps her slim fingers around my dick and we both go absolutely still. My pulse jackhammers in my neck. My hands clench in the bedding. In her fist, my cock thickens, gets even harder for her, and a thick bead of pre-come pulses into existence for her.
She licks her lips—fuck—and strokes, stretching my foreskin all the way down, then up, until her tight grip nudges the sensitive head of my cock.
The tip looks obscenely big in her little fingers. I can’t look away. A handjob from Jersey Girl is better than anything else I can remember.
I groan as she sways closer, her breath brushing the wetness at my slit. But instead of taking the crown into her mouth, she twists her head and ghosts her mouth down my shaft. Then she kisses my balls.
Fucking sweet as apple pie, this good girl is.
She blinks up at me, then pokes her tongue out and slides it up the underside of my shaft, where all the blood in my entire body has gone.
“You’re so hard,” she breathes, and it should be a dirty line, but it feels like the highest of praise.
“That’s what you do to me,” I growl, my gaze locked on her face. “Fuck, I need inside you.”
“In a rush?”
To get through round one? Definitely. “Just a few more licks, beautiful girl.”
Her cheeks turn pink at the compliment. I mean it. She is beautiful. “But what if my mouth is perfect—”
“It already is. But I want inside you. So have a little taste of me, and then climb up here and fuck me.”
Her tongue swirls around my head, wetting where her fingers circle me. Easing the slide of her hand up and down my rigid erection. Then she swipes up the bead of eager pre-come I’ve made for her, blinks at me again, and laughs.
“Yummy,” she breathes.
I reach and grab my wallet from the edge of the bed. The sight of her pink lips stretched around my cock is a thing of beauty—fuck, again—and I want to pump my hips hard, driving my dick down her throat, but if I do that, I’ll come right away, and my first orgasm can’t happen until I feel her second one milking me for all I’ve got.
She pops off with a slurp as I crinkle the condom wrapper.
“Can I see that?”
She grabs it and quickly checks the expiry date.
I chuckle. “Worry I might try to knock up a stranger?”
“I’m a nurse,” she says breathlessly. I file away that important bit of information. “Health is a top priority. And I definitely don’t want your baby.”
My cock twitches as she hands it back. That she claims not to want to be my baby mama gives my dick many inappropriate fantasies. That’s the tequila, too. And my brain is still in charge of what we say out loud. “I promise I’m not trying to trap you in some weird anonymous breeding cult.”
That makes her laugh again. Has anything ever sounded better than her low, sweet chuckle? She scrambles up my body. I fist my erection, then roll the condom down my shaft.
“It’s been a while,” she breathes as she straddles my hips. “Go slow.”
“We’ve got all night.” I groan at the warm, snug contact as my tip finds her entrance. “Damn, you feel good.”
She braces her hands on my shoulders and rolls her hips, working to take more of me. She’s slick as can be. It’s hard not to give in and buck my hips up, burying myself in her sweetness. But Jersey Girl wants it slow, so I grip her hips and give it to her at a glacial pace.
The torture has an upside—I get to savour the view of her taking my cock for the first time. Her dusky pussy lips stretching around me, the tremble of her thighs, the ever-so-satisfying jiggle of her taut belly and firm breasts. And best of all, the open-mouth, eyes half-closed look on her face as she reacts moment by moment.
A look that says, you’re so big and you feel good, too. She hasn’t said either of those things out loud, but I’m extrapolating.
Jersey Girl is enjoying her first ride.
Once she sinks all the way down, that slick wetness between her legs kissing my balls, I relax my grip on her hips and slide my hands up, cupping her gorgeous tits. “Look at these fucking things. These sweet little tits bounced all night for me, didn’t they? Did my jersey feel good against your naked little nipples?”
Her husky laugh makes me want to pin her down and never let her go. “Oh, Kieran.”
My cock throbs inside her. “You know what my name on your lips does to me.”
“You’re a wicked, wicked man.” She arches her back, her nipples tightening against the palms of my hands. I pluck at them, and when she shivers in delight, I pinch them and tug her down with the tension, until she falls forward and catches herself, making her breasts swing in front of my face.
Perfect.
I capture one tip in my hungry mouth and suckle hard. This time, my name is a loud, desperate cry. She’s joined me in the too-horny-to-give-a-fuck-about-noise space, and I fucking love it.
“Oh, beautiful girl. You look so good above me. Your tight little pussy is taking my whole cock, isn’t it? Look at how wet you make me. Look at us…”
She whines as she ducks her head. I kiss her temple as I wedge my erection back into her. “Love those little sounds, too. You can’t be quiet, can you?”
“Fuck me harder,” she breathes.
I snap my hips, driving deeper into her, and she groans. Her whole body sways with the movement.
“Can you touch your clit for me? Show me what you like?”
Another whine, and she shifts her body weight to one arm, shakily reaching between us.
“I’ve got you,” I croon, sliding my hands up her torso, holding her above me.
She’s panting as her fingers make contact.
“Look at me.”
She snaps her gaze to my face.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” I tell her, feeling full of some kind of fire. It’s called tequila. But I drink pretty regularly and I’ve never had filthy thoughts like this unleash themselves out loud. “This is so hot. I want to feel you come on my cock. Feel how hard you made me? I’m primed. I want to come, too. Can you make me come with your hot little pussy?”
She stares at me, and for a split-second I think I’ve lost her, my good girl stranger who doesn’t like men like me, would never do something like this normally, but now she’s riding my dick and she likes it.
Did I push her too far?
But then she nods, her head bobbing in agreement, and she rolls her hips back.
Now she’s fucking me, a tight squeeze as she sinks down, a desperate ache as she lifts up. Never stop fucking me.
Because we’re in this together. She’s the hot vixen who told me we were here to have sex, and we are having some sex.
She’s a blur above me now, her sexy scent swarming my senses, making it hard to think. All I want to do is feel.
“I’m going to come,” she breathes.
I ghost my hands down to her ass, squeezing and pulling at her flesh as our bodies slap together.
“Come with me.”
I groan. I need to feel her slam over that edge first…
She breathes my name once more. Fuck. “Come in my hot little pussy,” she cries out, and then her body spasms, squeezing me like a vise, and I follow her, my hips thundering up to meet her body, my hands clamping us together.
My eyes roll back in my head as my climax rips through me.
She’s shaking on top of me as she slumps down. Both of us are sweaty, the good kind. Hard fucking work, being filthy together like that.
“So good,” I murmur as I kiss the side of her head.
I fucking want to nuzzle the shit out of her.
She lets out a breathless huff, then slides off me, her hand catching the condom, making sure it stays in place on my softening-but-still-thick dick.
“Wow.” She collapses onto her back beside me. “That was fun.”
I roll up and sit on the edge of the bed. Deal with the condom, then stretch. Nothing like a post-nut clarity spike to shake the alcohol buzz off my brain.
