Page 15

Chapter 15

Okay, new plan

Jayna

I didn’t know why Braydon didn’t want me to touch him, moving things along, but I could live with that. He continued to lick, suck and caress my breasts while I squirmed, my arousal spiking higher and higher. If we ever got to taking off my panties, they would be soaked.

I moved my hands to his chest, running them through the hair between his well-developed pecs and lightly scratching my fingernails over his nipples. He growled. Someone liked that. I kept rubbing my hands over his chest, occasionally pinching his nipples while he wound me tighter and tighter. It was time to move this on. I twisted my good leg under his body and wrapped it around his waist, bringing him between my thighs, and then flipped us over. He was a big guy but I was fit, and he didn’t fight me.

He grinned at me. “Someone is impatient.”

“Someone is going to drive you crazy now.”

“Bring it.”

Oh, I would.

I started on his neck, kissing and nibbling. His big hands slid into my panties, and squeezed my ass cheeks every time I found a sensitive spot. Under his ear, where his neck joined his shoulders, big muscles quivered as I licked and kissed. Down his chest, a pinch to the nipples, and then over those impressive abs till I reached his boxer briefs. His cock was hard, and the front of his underwear had a damp spot.

I’d slowly been shuffling down the bed, careful with my bad knee. As I got farther away, his hands had slipped up, out of my underwear, up my back, and now they were weaving through my hair. I looked up. His cheeks were flushed, his hair messed from my fingers, eyes heavy-lidded.

“Now?” I teased.

“Anything you want.”

I had a long list, but we’d work through it. I grabbed the waistband and crawled back to pull his briefs down, his cock catching before slapping against his belly. By the time I pulled them off I was standing at the end of the bed. His impressive body was stretched over my duvet, his eyes fixed on me.

“Take off your panties. Please?”

The look in his eyes? He liked my body. The knee didn’t bother him, or that I was muscled, not thin like a model. I put my thumbs through the top of the panties, giving them a soft tug.

He leaned up on his elbows, eyes tracking my movements. Despite my teasing, I didn’t really have a stripper routine so I shoved them down, letting them drop to the floor.

“Come here,” he growled, sitting upright.

I’d have liked to do a sexy stalk to the bed, or crawl up it like a cat, but my knee wouldn’t cooperate. I limped to the side of the bed, and he wrapped those big hands around my waist, lifting me up and over him.

“Closer.” His hands were on my hips, moving me up to his head.

“Sure?”

His response was to tug me again. I lifted up, most of my weight on my good knee, and leaned forward, hands clutching the headboard. It was awkward, and I wasn’t sure how long I could do this, even if I was happy to have him go down on me.

He slid down till his face was below my pussy, where he could see how aroused I was. My leg started to tremble.

He sighed. “Okay, new plan.” This time he flipped me so I was the one staring upward, and he slid back, legs dropping off the bottom of the bed. He tugged my good leg, bringing my pussy close to him again. “Better?”

“Better,” I agreed.

He leaned in and licked, from my vagina to my clit. His tongue was flat, just enough pressure to light up my nerves, and it felt incredible. He moved back down, licking and sucking. Before I realized, my hands were back in his hair, tugging him as waves of pleasure followed the movements of his mouth and tongue. I floated blissfully, nothing mattering but his mouth and how good I felt.

His body shifted, and I felt his finger press inside me. I moaned, my legs squeezing him as I got closer and closer to orgasm. A second finger, a long suck on my clit, and I was gone. Eyes closed, chest heaving, nerves doing a conga throughout my body.

When I opened my eyes, panting and sweaty, Braydon was still between my legs, resting on his elbows and looking smug. I couldn’t blame him. That had been…spectacular.

“What now?”

I pointed to bedside table. “Condoms are in the top drawer.”

His smile grew wider and he pushed to his feet, almost jogging around the bed to the drawer I’d mentioned. His cock was hard, and I shivered. He reached for a condom. “I normally use my own rubbers, but I figure I can trust you.”

Right . Braydon was a hockey player, and some women would be happy to get a baby daddy with a large bank account. Not so much an issue for women playing sports. “No. I’m not going to trap you.”

He dropped on his ass on the bed. “That was a stupid thing to say. Sorry. It’s just been drilled into my head since I signed with the Inferno. I didn’t bring anything with me tonight, since I didn’t think I’d need it. I trust you, Jayna. But I get it if I’ve ruined the mood.”

His cock was only half hard now. I could send him away. I’d gotten off, spectacularly. But I wanted to feel him inside me. I didn’t want to take without giving back. I sat up, wrapped my hand around his cock and twisted my body over so I could swallow the head and swirl my tongue around it.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned. His hand rested on my head. No pressure, just staying with me.

I pulled back, went a bit deeper, lips stretched, his erection nudging the back of my throat. He shuddered. I increased the suction, going deep. His cock was rock hard now, so I pulled back and reached out a hand. “Condom.”

He passed it over and I opened it. I rolled it down his length while his fists clenched at his sides. I stroked over it, checking it was good, and he pulled back.

“Careful. We don’t what this to end before I get inside you.”

I smirked and leaned back. “You know what to do now?”

His pupils were wide, his face and chest flushed, but he grinned at me. “Yeah, I think I can take it from here.”

He climbed on the bed, straddling my legs. He reached a finger down, running it through my folds, and I shivered. The finger moved inside me, sliding smoothly through the wetness that remained from my orgasm. He pulled his fingers back and leaned over me, hands planted on either side of my head, and moved his legs between mine.

He dropped his head down, licking across my neck and up under my ear. “Ready?” he breathed.

I nodded, and felt the head of his cock against my opening. He pushed, and started to slide in.

“Fuuuck,” I breathed. The stretch was incredible. He panted into my neck, arms trembling as he moved slowly, so slowly, until he was fully inside me. “I can take it.” I’d already come, and I was ready for more.

He lifted his head, checking that I was good, then pulled out and slammed back in. I lifted my hips to meet him, wrapping my leg around his ass. He did it again. And again.

The pressure and pleasure were different this way, but it still wound me up. He paused, carefully wrapping his forearm around my good leg and lifting it, so he could reach deeper. I scratched my hands over his chest, demanding more, more, more , and he responded.

So grateful for goalie flexibility and stamina.

“I’m close.” He panted out the words, sweat dripping from his body onto mine.

“Me too.” I pushed one hand down to my clit and that was enough. A second orgasm racked through me.

Braydon thrust again, and again, and grunted my name as he stuttered inside me, finally collapsing on me.

I panted, the act of breathing more of a struggle with the man lying on top of me, but I was too relaxed to move. He inhaled and then rolled over, sliding out of me and leaving me chilled with the loss of body heat.

“I should…” He sounded as wrecked as I felt.

The dating might be fake, but the orgasms? Anything but. The kind that made me long for repeats.

Whoa . No, nope, non . He was a hockey player. Nothing could happen.

I sat up, calming my breathing and my voice. “Bathroom is in the hall.”

He nodded and rolled out of bed. Once he was through the door, I scrambled up and dug into a drawer for some sweats. Baggy, loose, unsexy sweats. I had just pulled a Bonfire hoodie over my head when he returned.

Best intentions be damned. I stared. Even without being lust-driven, the man had a great body. Defined arms and pecs, rippling abdomen—marred by marks on his chest. Marks I’d made with my fingernails. Damn . That wasn’t normal for me. A weird possessive streak popped up, happy to have claimed him. He looked a little uncomfortable with my stare, so I moved to the bed, straightening the sheets.

“Uh, I should probably go. But can I ask something?”

I stood, expecting something bad. Something that would ruin this happy endorphin rush I was enjoying. “What?”

“Everyone was surprised to hear you were dating a hockey player.” He looked around the room, where I’d already started to erase the evidence of what we’d done. “Is it because of your family—the way they are about your brother?”

I dropped to the bed. Fuck, he figured that out fast. I nodded. There was more, but that was the core of it. Dating a hockey player would be like I denied all the disparagement I got for playing hockey. Like I was agreeing with my family.

His shoulders dropped. “I get it. I’ll just dress and go.”

Yes. I needed him to leave, so I could work through these post-sex endorphins and his understanding and toughen myself up again.

I picked up his pants and gave them a shake. They were crumpled, and this was his new suit, that he’d worn tonight to meet my parents.

“I could throw these in the dryer, get out some of the wrinkles.”

He picked up his shirt, even worse. “It’s okay. No one is gonna see me, and I can take care of them at home.”

Was he that anxious to be gone? There was no reason to feel disappointed. This was what I wanted. I didn’t want him lingering, wanting more. I didn’t want to wake up with him and do this again.

Sure? a little voice asked. Down, libido .

“I’ll just go and—” I waved at the hallway and fled to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I leaned on the vanity, facing myself in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed, my hair a disaster, and his stubble had marked my skin. A smile grew on my face before I checked it.

Time to remember what was going on here. Great orgasms, sure, but Braydon was still a hockey player. It wasn’t just my family—I refused to be relegated to the background, to just be someone on a hockey player’s arm. I was a fucking hockey player. Women players were overlooked enough. No need to add to it.

I washed my hands and opened the door. Braydon was standing between the living room and kitchen, fully dressed.

I pulled myself together. “Thank you. Meeting my parents is always tense. You’re good to drive home?”

We’d only done this because of my parents. We were not a couple, and we weren’t going to be booty calls either. One and done.

He nodded. “I’m good. And thanks—it was fun.” He turned and slipped out the door.

Fun? That hurt. Which was fucking stupid.

Braydon hadn’t chosen me either. He had no choice, stuck with me until the season was done. Then the Blaze could trade him, send him back to the Inferno, or whatever else. He wouldn’t need me much longer—he was already doing well in popular opinion now that he was supporting the women’s team. Crisis averted.

I went back to my room, stripped the bed of the sheets that smelled of him and stuffed them in the washer.

Enough.