Page 37 of Moms of Mayhem (Mayhem Hockey Club #1)
“I don’t bite,” he said when I’d stared a beat too long. “Hopefully you don’t either.”
I laughed, then let my hand drift down to his. He let go of his shaft to give me room, and I closed my fingers around him.
“How do you like it?” I asked, suddenly unsure I knew how to do any of this, even though I’d been married for 16 years. My entire sexual history sat with Ryan, who would’ve already flipped me on my back, finished inside me, and been in the shower by now.
Beckett’s arms went back behind his head, his eyes closed and nostrils flared. “I like it when you’re touching me. As simple as that.”
My hand moved up and down him, running across the silky-smooth feel of his skin, and my mouth watered. “Can I taste you?”
A stuttered laugh came out of Beckett’s mouth, and his arms dropped to the side. “I don’t know, want to marry me?”
I grinned, then moved between his legs, my mouth hovering just over him. He grabbed a pillow and put it behind his head, his eyes half-lidded and focused intently on me. My tongue snaked out, licking just under the head in a teasing taste, and Beckett’s fingers tightened in the sheets.
I did it again, and he inhaled so sharply, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Put me in your mouth, Emmy.”
A wave of heat washed through me at the bossy tone, my eyes finding his in the dark.
“Slide my dick across your tongue as far as you can go. Let me feel how badly you want me to fuck you.”
It was my turn to pant, but I did as he said. My lips opened, and I slid my mouth down his shaft, my hand sliding down to cover what I couldn’t get into my mouth.
“ Fuck yes,” Beckett said, his fingers resting gently in my hair. He didn’t guide my movements, but held my head, as if he couldn’t help but touch me too.
When I slid him to the back of my throat, taking him as deep as I could, we both groaned until he pulled out of my mouth. I stared up at him, worried I’d done something wrong, until he dropped his feet off the bed and grabbed his jeans.
Seconds later, he was back, a little foil packet gleaming in the low light. He put it in between his teeth and ripped, pulling out the condom inside.
Beckett slid the condom down his shaft. “On your back.”
I scrambled to comply, my chest rising and falling as I gave into the wave of lust hitting me so hard, I had no choice but to obey. “Spread those thighs for me so I can see your pretty pussy glistening for me.”
My legs fell apart, and Beckett’s hand reached forward to touch me again. Between sucking his dick and coming once, I was drenched. His fingers slid around my clit, then two plunged inside me, spreading me wide.
“You’re gonna take my cock so good, aren’t you Peach?”
I can neither confirm nor deny that the words that came out of my mouth were English, but I nodded my consent.
He moved forward on his knees, pulling my hips up until I sat against him. I rose up to my elbows, desperate for this depraved view. His hand rested on his cock, stroking once before he tapped it on my clit, then slid down.
The moment he pushed inside, my head tipped back. My breaths came in little gasps, the stretch as good as anything I’d ever felt, and he was barely inside.
“Holy shit.” Beckett’s hips stilled to hold him in place.
“Move, dammit,” I said between gritted teeth, needing it more than I ever had before. My legs rose to bracket his chest, giving him more room to move, and he took it.
My hands rested on his stomach, feeling him move in and out of me while my gaze drifted to the ceiling, everything blurring out but the feel of him inside me.
“Look at you,” Beckett said, a warm palm resting on my belly before sliding down to rub over my clit. “Taking me so good. No wonder you made me do so many fucking bridges.”
My laugh transformed into a moan when his thumb circled just right, hips moving in a perfect rhythm until my body was just a blur of energy, ready to explode .
“More.” My fingers dug into his back, that wave cresting in my again. “Make me come.”
His thumb circled just right, hips moving in a perfect rhythm until my body was just a blur of energy, ready to explode.
“That’s it,” Beckett said, a hand slapping gently on the side of my ass when I started to clench around him. The little zap was enough to shatter me. “Oh, fuck, Emmy.”
His hips picked up the pace, and I held on, loving the feel of him losing himself to the same unrelenting pull. I couldn’t look away, watching his head drop back, mouth hanging open, hands wrapped around my hips using me to find his own release.
The moment he did, his body slumped down over mine, sweaty forehead resting between my breasts.
“Not bad,” I said once my brain came back online.
A stuttered laugh shook through Beckett’s body, and I grinned up at the ceiling.
“Not bad?” His mouth slid over to my nipple, then bit down gently. I let out a little yelp, then burst out laughing. “Maybe I should have bitten you after all, you little brat.”
He fell off to the side of me, splayed out naked and spent, but his head tipped toward me. I shifted onto my side, one hand under my head and the other lazily tracing over the muscles in his chest.
His hand came around mine, then pinned it to his heart. “Feel that, Peach? Feel my heart racing?” He waited for an answer, so I gave him a little nod. “That’s because I’ve never come so hard in my life.”
I looked up at him, feeling his fingers lace between mine. We stared at each other, long enough that something unspoken settled between us—something heavier than sweat and sated bodies. His eyes didn’t flicker away, and mine didn’t try to hide the way I felt it too.
He swallowed hard, like he was about to say something else, but instead he pulled in a sharp breath and rolled away.
“I need a shower,” he muttered, voice rough, almost hoarse. He pushed up off the bed and padded naked toward the bathroom, his muscles rippling with each step.
I propped my chin on my hand and watched him go, pretending I wasn’t completely exposed—heart, body, all of it. He was halfway to the door when he slowed, like he could feel my eyes on him.
Then he turned, but I didn’t snap my gaze up from his ass fast enough.
That slow, cocky grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You keep looking at me like that, Peach, and we’re both gonna need a second shower.”
My cheeks flamed, but I didn’t look away. “Maybe I like being dirty.”
He chuckled, deep and low, then disappeared into the bathroom with a shake of his head.
The door clicked shut, steam already beginning to curl under the crack, and I lay there in the quiet aftermath, staring at the ceiling like it might have answers I didn’t want to hear.
Because something had shifted, all right. And no amount of sass or shower steam was going to rinse it away.