Page 8

I can’t make words. Just shake my head from side to side, eyes closed, wondering if that’s something I can actually do.

I’m fucking a yeti’s cock. I can probably do anything short of flight.

“I want to make you come hard, like I’m going to. I want to feel all that hot pussy juice making a puddle—and one day soon, I want to make sure you squirt in my mouth. I want to drink every drop of you, Fia.”

“God,” I whimper, walls rushing to clamp in the final burst of pleasure. “Please, Bryce.”

His huge hand suddenly moves to where my pubic bone and mound meet. His hand crushes down while his cock crushes up, and there’s a burning, boiling sensation of urgency, of heat without pain.

“Let it go for me, Fia. Come all over me. Soak me.”

The orgasm that rocks me is like nothing I’ve felt before.

It doesn’t stay in my erogenous zones, but it fuses them all together until my entire body feels like it’s pulsing and throbbing as a torrent of liquid sprays out—three hard bursts in time with my high, panting gasps of pleasure.

It’s scary for a second, feeling everything burst, everything slip from my control as I sob in pleasure and my muscles desert me, leaving me limp under Bryce.

But he has me in his strong arms, holding me tight as his own orgasm follows mine, a pumping floods of hot cum that somehow adds one more wave of mini-climaxes to the tsunami that just hit me.

“Fia!” he bellows, hips suddenly slamming into mine out of rhythm, jerking and dancing against my legs until I can feel sticky streams overflowing my spent pussy and coating my thighs.

Yep. We made that puddle he mentioned.

I’m such a mess. Such a happy, happy mess. “Bryce.” I reach back to caress his face when we crash down, his body huddled around mine, spooning me as we’re still joined.

“I love you,” he pants, spent. He clutches me close, post-orgasmic shudders rocking his giant frame.

He loves me?

I wait for the panic alarms. The red flags to wave inside my mind.

I waited for years to hear Felipe say he loved me—outside of one of his diatribes where “Look, I love you, so listen to me” was used as blackmail and control.

“Oh, God.” Bryce’s sleepy, relaxed voice turns fearful. “Oh, God, I said it out loud. Fia, I didn’t—”

“Shhh. It’s okay, my love,” I say soothingly. It’s not quite an “I love you,” but it feels right for right now. “Shh, my mate. That was wonderful.”

SHE SLEEPS. I DOZE . We’re a mess, and I think I’m just going to throw these sheets out and reimburse the hotel for the damages.

Maybe I’ll throw the mattress out, too, I think as I slowly withdraw from my sleeping beauty, blushing in awe as at least a cup of our combined essence flows from her in a creamy, glistening tide.

“Bryce?” She reaches for me in her sleep, my name on her lips.

I know she’s mine. I know it.

But I can’t force her to believe it. Truth-or-Dare games don’t work in the light of day, which is just a few hours away.

“I’m right here, Fia. You can sleep.”

“Don’t wanna sleep,” she pouts, shivering. “Get back here.”

I laugh softly and cuddle back up to her, my cock sliding between her thighs instead of filling her. “I will never leave you—except to go to work. Or while you’re at work.”

Her sleepy nod and noise of agreement lull me into relaxing—for a second.

“I’m not going to stop traveling because I found someone,” she says, a yawn breaking her sentence in half.

Found someone? My heart leaps. That sounds promising.

“I wouldn’t ask you to! I’m your biggest fan. I love your work. What kind of idiot would I be to ask you to stop doing what you love, especially when I love it, too?”

“You’re smart.”

I have to laugh at the factual way she declares it. “So are you. You wouldn’t ask me to stop playing hockey, would you?” I hold my breath. I know she won’t—but I also know I would give it up this second if she said it meant she’d stay with me.

“No! I... I really like when you play and I watch.” Her voice is more alert—and more sensual.

My cock starts to harden. I guess he’s making up for years of voluntary celibacy.

“You like to watch me play?”

“So hot. The way you... It’s like you hunt the other players. Ruthless. Skillful. Graceful.” She turns to me with a sudden roll, dark eyes meeting mine as she licks her lips. “Would you ever make love right after you played?”

“I wouldn’t even take off my helmet if you like it on,” I tease—only I’m not really teasing.

Fia stares at me.

“What?”

“I’m trying to figure out the right word for you.”

“Yeti?” I suggest, brow wrinkling in confusion—and cock starting to throb as she mashes herself to my chest, apparently not caring about my soaked, matted fur from the waist down.

“You’re not a cinnamon roll. Or a golden retriever.”

Did I fuck her brains out? “Did you hit the headboard, love?” I ask, cupping her face with a frown.

“Some women call really amazing boyfriends who are so giving and loving cinnamon rolls and golden retrievers. But you’re all of those things and more. And you’re not golden.” She beams at me, kissing my startled mouth. “I don’t quite know what to call you, but I’m looking forward to finding out.”

I kiss her back, one palm coming up to massage her breast, loving the way she instantly leans into my touch with a happy moan.

“Just call me yours. Your mate,” I encourage, knowing I sound desperate and selfish.

I make a last-ditch effort to be strong.

“If you want. I know you’re so beautiful, and you’re a world traveler, and I’m a hometown hero monster.

..” I shrug helplessly. “In hockey terms, maybe it seems like we’re a missed shot, but—”

Fia cuts me off, finger to my lips and one leg sliding pointedly over mine to start fusing our bodies once again.

“Shh. We’re a perfect shot—in hockey or photography.

” She smiles, nodding seriously. “Sometimes the unexpected angle sinks it deep in the back of the net.” Her hips part, and my semi-erect cock easily slides into the soaking slickness of her pussy.

“Sometimes the picture that you never expected to take is the one that wins the prize or becomes your favorite.”

“You’ve always been my favorite,” I whisper, head bowing so my forehead can rest against hers.

She smiles up at me, dimple deepening with the width of her grin. “You’re the prize I’ve been wanting.”

I sink into her.

She moans and flexes, sending ripples of pleasure through both of us. “Perfect,” she sighs.

“Agreed.”