Page 11 of Trick Shot (Bainbridge Hockey #4)

“I don’t come when I have sex,” she tells me, matter-of-factly.

“And don’t even start with the whole I can make you see stars, baby bullshit.

You can’t, trust me. And yes, I know the difference between a clitoral orgasm and a penetrative one.

And I know not all women come from p-in-v sex.

That’s not what I’m talking about. We’re gonna have sex, Pete.

Judging from the way you fill out a pair of shorts, we’re gonna have damn good sex.

But I won’t come. Not if you do that trigger finger thing, or the swirly business with your thumb.

They’re great moves, don’t get me wrong.

They make me feel really good. But as far as tipping me over the edge? That’s not gonna happen.”

“Has it ever happened?” I ask, unable to stop myself.

“When I’m alone with a vibrator in my hand, yes,” she answers.

“And sometimes with just my hand, no batteries required. But not usually with a partner. And don’t get all macho-alpha-cave-hole on me, okay?

You’re not less of a man because you won’t make me come and I’m not less of a woman because I don’t find my release with a partner. ”

After nodding my understanding, I grip her waist and pull her close so I can taste the sweet, hardened peaks of her nipples.

I take my time lavishing attention on each one.

If Claire thinks I’m going to lecture her on the way her body works or try to coach her to completion or some shit, she’s wrong.

Do I want her to be satisfied? Hell yes.

Am I going to take my damn time giving her as much pleasure as I can?

Again, hell yes. There’s one thing Claire wants more than anything, something she absolutely craves.

And it’s not an orgasm from me. Not yet, anyway.

Claire wants to be heard. Listened to. Understood. And I can give that to her. So I do.

Pivoting slightly to the left, I guide Claire to the worn leather couch that leans up against the south-facing wall.

Sinking onto the cushions, I tug her on top of me.

It’s the perfect position for me to capture her breasts in my mouth once more.

And if that action has her grinding down on my cock, well, so be it.

“Are we done talking?” she asks, rocking herself onto my cock.

“Hell yes,” I answer, cupping her left breast in my hand. “My mouth has better things to do. ”

Unfortunately, we’re both still wearing clothes.

They’ve started to dry, which is a good thing, since it makes them a little easier to remove.

Sure, this is probably something we should have done while we were still standing up, but I’m not ever going to complain about having a half-naked Claire Fowler on my lap.

She’s straddling my thighs, and once again, I’m fucking grateful for those long, toned legs of hers.

Putting her weight on her knees, she lifts her body up, breaking contact with the hard ridge of my erection for a second so that I can tug at her shorts.

That only gets us so far, so she shimmies off the couch to let her shorts and bikini bottoms fall to the floor.

Claire Fowler is gloriously naked in front of me and my cock presses up against my board short like it’s about to bust free.

Placing her hands on the hem of the fabric, she pulls at it while I lift my hips.

My shorts join her clothes as she puts a hand on her hip and looks around.

“I’m right here where you left me,” I joke, but she just rolls her eyes.

“Is it too much to hope you’ve got a condom in that big-ass backpack?” She’s biting her lip in the cutest way. And if you ever tell Claire I used the word “cute” as a reference to her, I’ll call you a liar.

“There should be a couple in the front pouch. That’s where most of the first aid stuff is.”

She turns toward the table where I laid my bag and unzips the pouch I was pointing to.

I’m dying to get her back over her and on top of me, but the view I have of her ass right now is pretty damn spectacular.

I take a moment to look my fill, but a few seconds later, she holds the foil strip up in triumph and turns back toward me.

This view is pretty fucking fantastic, too.

Claire’s body is athletic. She’s not dainty or tiny in the least, but she’s not curvy and voluptuous either.

She’s tall and toned and thick in all the right places.

Dropping the condoms on the couch next to me, she crawls back onto my lap, dragging her sweet pussy across my aching length.

We’re playing with fire, so I rip one of the condoms from the row, tear the package open, and slide it onto my length.

Fisting the base, I give myself a hard squeeze, like I’m reminding my dick to play it fucking cool.

This is not our first rodeo. Granted, it’s the first one in a while, and the fucking best one I’ve ever been to, even though it’s barely just started.

Claire’s no-orgasm policy has me feeling a little off my game.

Honestly, though, I get it. If she doesn’t come from partnered sex, but it still makes her feel good, then she should get to enjoy the hell out of it.

And fuck the guys she’s been with for making it all about them.

Although, I’ve gotta admit, I’m not quite sure how to proceed here.

Typically, the first order of business would be to get Claire off at least once before she gets that hot mouth or that pretty cunt on me.

But she’s made it clear that’s not my mission.

It’s still my goal, but I’m not telling her that.

And even if she doesn’t climax, I’m dying to get my hands and lips on her.

She sinks back down onto my lap so that the vee of her thighs cradles my sheathed cock, then she rubs up against me like torturing me is her favorite thing to do. Hell, I guess it is.

Instinctively, my hand covers her mound.

She gasps as my thumb parts her folds and throws her head back in ecstasy when I find her wet and ready for me.

I use my fingers to paint her pretty lips with her arousal and the curse she mutters is a compliment I didn’t know I was waiting for.

What the fuck was I doing second-guessing myself?

She’s giving me a fucking gift and I’ll be damned if I waste one second of it worrying about the playbook.

Fuck the playbook. The only objective I have is to make Claire feel good.

She doesn’t know it, but I’ve been fantasizing about this scenario for the better part of three years.

Did I ever think for a second that I’d have a shot with her?

Hell no. But now that my shot is here, I’m gonna play my damn heart out.

My fingers keep playing with her pussy, like I’ve got all the time in the world.

I mean, eventually we’ll have to leave this cabin, but the rain is still beating a steady rhythm on the rooftop, so there’s no need for me to hurry.

Besides, Claire’s making the best noises as she writhes on my lap, and there’s no way in hell I want to rush this.

“Touch me,” she practically begs, pressing her core insistently against my hand.

Slipping one finger inside her, I moan out loud at the way her body pulls me in. She clenches around me while I tease and explore, still taking my time to savor every second I have with her.

“Fuck, I could do this all day,” I tell her, my finger drawing lazy patterns before thrusting back inside her.

“Maybe you should,” she says on a gasp.

I love how worked up she’s getting, how her breaths are uneven as she braces her hands on my shoulders. My fingers continue their exploration as she presses her body closer to mine. “Can you take one more?” I ask.

“Yes,” she pants as I pull my finger out of her channel and rub her sweet entrance with the pads of two fingers before entering her once again. My thick, long fingers stretch her in the best way.

“Fuck, fuck ,” she curses, holding me close and biting down on my shoulder.

The pinch I feel when her teeth nip at my skin does something to me—something I’ve never felt before.

A bolt of lust shoots through me when she bites down again, harder this time.

My dick gets impossibly harder and whether it’s from the playful biting or the fact that she’s so damn wet I can feel it everywhere, I’m not sure. And I don’t care.

“You’re taking my fingers so fucking good, Claire,” I say, my voice low and gravelly as I thrust deep, curling my middle finger and tapping it lightly against her inner wall.

She stills for a moment, but the tightening of her grip on my shoulders and the flood of wet heat between her thighs let me know she’s feeling good, just the way I want her to.

“Stop talking and start fucking—oh, shit!” She mutters a curse as I tap her inner walls again, this time while the palm of my hand makes tight little circles on her clit.

I’m not even trying to get her off, not really.

I’m just trying to get her to moan again, to squeeze my fingers so tight, to close her eyes and let her mouth fall open as she lets her body surrender to mine.

But Claire’s not going to let me lead, that much is clear when she wrests her body away from mine just to sink down onto my cock, taking me inch by inch. It knocks the breath right out of me.

“Holy fuck, you’re—oh, fuck.” Her words trail off as I grip her hips and pump into her.

I can’t get enough of Claire Fowler. Her hands toy with my hair while her lips blaze a trail from my jaw to my throat.

She’s licking and sucking, and I want more of everything—more of this, more of her.

Moving my hands to her backside, I cup her ass and let my head tilt back as she grinds her body down onto mine.

I watch as she takes what she wants from me, as she milks my body.

I pay attention to the way she sways her hips, the way she rubs her swollen clit across the base of my dick, the way her breasts bounce with every back-and-forth motion.

I’m memorizing every move, letting the secret to her pleasure imprint itself onto the blank slate of my brain .

Because no one before Claire matters.

I’m not dumb enough to say that out loud, but I’d be lying to myself if I pretended like things haven’t shifted between us, at least on my end. But I can fantasize about all that later. Right now, I’ve got a beautiful woman naked in my arms.

Acting on instinct, I suck one of her nipples into my mouth, greedily devouring it like I’m starving and might die if I don’t get a taste of her.

A taste of her—god, that’s what I want—to taste her lips, her tits, and that sweet fucking pussy.

The thought has my dick swelling, which causes Claire to gasp.

“What the hell are you doing to me?” she asks, breathless.

“Fucking you,” I say, rocking up into her. “Just like you wanted.”

Her inner muscles clench, holding my dick hostage for a few glorious seconds.

How long does it take for Stockholm Syndrome to set in?

And are cocks particularly susceptible? She lifts her hips a few inches before sinking back down on me.

Holy god. A few more rounds of this and I’m gonna fill this fucking condom.

“I find you almost tolerable when you do what I want you to,” she says, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Yeah?” I ask, arching my hips up to meet her as she glides back down on my cock.

“What about when I do this?” My right hand hovers over her mound, gently grazing the neatly trimmed patch of hair there and sending a shiver through Claire’s body.

My thumb slides back between her folds and zeros in on the sensitive bundle of nerves there.

I steady her with an arm on her back as I drive my cock into her and flick my thumb on her swollen clit with each pass.

She gets so wet for me, and I can’t get enough.

Her breaths are coming in shorter pants as I feel that familiar tingle at the base of my spine.

“Pete,” she gasps, my name a desperate plea on her pretty pink lips. “Ohfuckpete.”

Claire’s rocking onto my body and my brain is so scrambled that it takes me a second to realize what’s happening.

My orgasm is seconds away, but that’s not what has my attention.

All my focus is on Claire as her eyes widen and her lips part.

Her nails dig into my arms as her walls close around my dick.

She shudders and cries out while her body squeezes my cock.

The ripples of her orgasm ignite mine and I ride it out, pumping into her over and over, until I’m completely spent.

We’re sweaty and sticky and probably still damp from the storm.

We’re two people who don’t get along but just shared the greatest sex of our lives.

We’re too fucking good at this. Too explosive together. Too perfect for each other. At least, when we’re naked.

Claire looks at me, her eyes glazed over in the afterglow. “You bastard,” she says, swatting my chest. There’s no force behind the smack, but I rub the spot anyway.

“Ouch. I just gave you an orgasm. How does that make me a bastard?”

She huffs. “It doesn’t, which is exactly why it does,” she says, like I’m supposed to understand. “It also makes you a unicorn, I guess.”

That visual makes me laugh. “I’m one big-ass unicorn.”

Claire furrows her brow at me. “Not really. Aren’t horses at least a thousand pounds? And they are cousins with the unicorn, so it stands to reason they’d be similar sizes. ”

“So what? That makes me the world’s smallest unicorn?”

She bites her lip to stop from smiling, then she looks down at my lap, where we’re still joined. And I’m still half-hard.

Claire flexes her inner muscles, giving my tired cock a squeeze. “I’ve got to be honest, Pete. I don’t think you’re the world’s smallest anything.”