Page 10 of Rematch (Stingrays Hockey #3)

Overwhelmed by sensation, she sank her teeth into Preston’s pec. He grunted, then growled.

“Bad girl,” he drawled in that deep dark-chocolate voice of his, backing up those sexy words with a smack to her ass. It shocked more than stung, and she instantly tried to think of ways she could encourage him to expand on the spanking.

He pulled away from her, pushing gently on her shoulders until she was standing next to the bed. Sitting in front of her, he reached for her hips. “Take off your jeans, Joy.”

She smiled at his nickname for her.

Chelsea unfastened the button, then slid the zipper down.

She shimmied the tight denim over her hips as Preston watched from his front-row seat on the side of the mattress.

The jeans fell to the floor, but Preston’s grip on her hips didn’t allow her to bend over to take them off.

She tried to toe them and her shoes off, but skinny jeans were unforgiving.

She struggled for a few moments before Preston shifted off the bed, kneeling on the floor in front of her.

Chelsea leaned forward slightly, bracing her hands on his shoulders to steady herself when he lifted one foot, then the other, freeing her of her shoes, socks, and jeans.

All that was left between her and complete nudity was her panties. Not that they lasted long.

Preston didn’t bother to rise. Instead, his fingers slipped beneath the elastic, sliding them over her hips and down.

“Preston,” she whispered, his name ending on a sharp gasp when he leaned forward, stroking his fingers along her wet slit. Her heart began to race when he shifted even closer, pushing her thighs apart.

She shivered as his tongue traveled the same path his fingers had just taken.

Holy shit.

The way Preston devoured her, his low hums and moans, turning her on as much as his actions. She ran her fingers through his light brown hair.

He lifted his face to hers, and she couldn’t help being disappointed, thinking he was done. He hadn’t even touched her clit.

Then he said, “Lift one of your feet to the bed. I need more room to work.”

She laughed breathlessly when he followed that demand with a wink and the world’s most charming smile.

God, this man was dangerous. Not in a scary way but in an “I could fall so hard and fast” way.

She lifted her left foot, slightly afraid she wouldn’t be able to maintain her balance.

Once again, Preston seemed to have an inside track to her thoughts. “I won’t let you fall,” he reassured her, just before he leaned forward. This time, he found her clit, his tongue homing in on it like it had its own GPS. He sucked it into his mouth so perfectly, she saw stars.

Chelsea regained her grip on his shoulders, needing the extra support as her knee went weak.

“Preston! I…God…”

He nipped at her clit with his teeth at the same time he drove two fingers inside her throbbing pussy.

She cried out loudly as she came, silently hoping no one was staying in the hotel rooms next to theirs. She’d never been a noisy lover, but there was no way she could control her volume.

Not when…

“Fuck!” she shouted in bliss as Preston eased a third finger in along with the second two, as her orgasm waned. He was stretching her just beyond her comfort level, but then she recalled the bulge in his jeans. Maybe that was intentional?

Allyson had nailed it earlier.

Because it was definitely the best. Night. Ever.

She was right there on the verge of coming again. Her breathing was so labored, begging wasn’t an option at this point.

“Ahh,” she cried, just about to go over again when Preston pulled his fingers out and backed away.

Her eyes had been closed, but they flew open, her hands reaching out to grab whatever she could to bring him back. “No! I was?—”

Her world went topsy-turvy as Preston rose from the floor, flipping her around and then back, pushing her onto the bed.

“I promised not to let you fall,” he murmured, half lifting, half shoving her to the middle of the large mattress. He pushed her thighs apart, settling between them on his knees.

“You…you weren’t finished?” She was aware it was a stupid question, given the fact he was definitely going back for seconds.

“Finished? Fuck no. I just realized one of those orgasms wasn’t going to be enough, and you were already wobbly.”

She heard his words, but she was struggling to get them to sink in because…

One orgasm wasn’t enough for him?

Was that a thing?

Because if so, for the first time since Rick’s departure, she was glad the fucker had jilted her.

Before she had too long to play with this new, ecstatic feeling, Preston bent his head, and she was lost for good.

It only took a matter of seconds before she was right where she’d started, his fingers, mouth, and tongue working their magic.

Her back arched, and for a moment, it felt as if she’d been struck by lightning, her second climax hitting harder than the first.

She called out his name, her hands flying upward, landing on the pillow beneath her head.

Preston didn’t stop, didn’t give way. Even when her orgasm started to wane, and she started to panic.

It was all too much, too fucking good.

“Preston.” She reached down, intent on pushing him away.

“Put your hands back on the pillow,” he growled. “You’re not finished surrendering to me.”

Surrendering…

Chelsea tried to wrap her head around that word, certain it was the sexiest threat she’d ever heard.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she lifted her hands, palms up, the position one of sheer submission.

Preston’s gaze darkened.

She started to wonder if she was really here or if this was a dream. She wasn’t this wanton, wild woman. And she’d certainly never been on the receiving end of such potent desire.

“Preston,” she whispered.

She had grown accustomed to his easy smile and infectious laugh over the past few hours, but none of that was present here. That laid-back, affable man had been replaced by a dominant, sexy alpha. She hadn’t read that wrong.

“That’s right, Chelsea,” he said. “Say my name. Remember it, and this night. Don’t you ever forget it.”

There was literally ZERO danger of that. She’d remember this night on her death bed.

He lowered his head again, but this time, Chelsea didn’t fight, didn’t attempt to deny herself what she didn’t even know she needed.

Preston pushed her into a third orgasm, using just his lips and his fingers.

“Please,” she said, her voice hoarse from her cries.

“Please?”

She lifted her heavy eyelids, her vision slightly fuzzy as the vestiges of the climax wavered. Preston had risen so that he was kneeling between her outstretched legs, looking down at her with a pleased, if slightly pained, grin.

That was when she realized he was still wearing his jeans.

“Please,” she repeated. “I want you. Inside me.”

Preston tilted his head, studied her, and she got the sense he was still giving her a chance to change her mind.

As if she freaking would.

Only a fool would walk away from this bed and this man. And her mother didn’t raise a fool.

She lifted one spaghetti arm, her strength zapped from the abundance of orgasms. “I’m not going to say no. Now take those pants off and get inside me. Please.”

One side of his mouth quirked up. “I do like the way you beg. Or should I say demand?” He gave her a brief glimpse of the fun charmer she’d enjoyed spending time with at the party. “Don’t move.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “You’re kidding, right? I think I live here now. Couldn’t move if I wanted to.”

Her words provoked the chuckle she’d grown far too fond of, given their short acquaintance.

“I wouldn’t complain if you wanted to set up camp here for a few nights or…”

He didn’t fill in that last blank, but there was something in his eyes that told her he meant that. Then she recalled his past dating history. How he was genuinely interested in a true relationship. Why couldn’t they have met a few months earlier?

Preston rose from the bed, facing her as he unzipped his jeans, shedding them and his boxer briefs at the same time.

Chelsea hadn’t thought a second wind was in the cards, but apparently, she’d just been dealt a royal flush.

“Wow,” she murmured.

Preston reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his wallet and then a condom, slipping it on. “What was it you said earlier? Oh yeah. Good for the soul. Gonna have to say right back atcha on that.”

She hadn’t lied. She’d spent months wallowing in self-pity, self-doubt, and misery, constantly searching for some remedy, some way to pull herself together.

Preston had found the cure to all three of those things in one fell swoop—with his humor, his compliments, his compassion, and his off-the-chart abilities in the bedroom.

She’d hoped Paris would offer her the clean slate, but now, it looked like she would be traveling to France with her board already cleared. Preston had done that, given that to her.

He helped her find her confidence, but more than that, he’d shown her that she was ready to move on.

The mattress sank as Preston climbed back into bed. He crawled toward her, not stopping until she was caged beneath him.

“Ready for more?”

More?

Most people might have considered three orgasms more than enough, because she’d certainly lit up like the grand finale of the Fourth of July fireworks.

Preston clearly was not most people.

She nodded enthusiastically. “Hell yeah. Give me more.”