Page 26 of Trick Shot (Miami Blazers #1)

“Bossy little thing,” he chuckles against me. He seals his mouth over me, fingers holding me open, tongue flicking just right. The sounds spilling past my lips are messy and desperate—and way too loud for a house full of an NHL team whose captain is my damn brother.

My legs shake, my body’s convulsing. I’m so close. One more stroke…

And then he pulls away.

I whimper, a broken noise slipping from my throat, hips grinding up into nothing.

“Jace, please,” I gasp.

He licks his lips, his chin wet, and gives me that look—that infuriating, cocky, I-own-you look that makes my body ache.

“You don’t come on my tongue, baby,” he says. “Not the first time.”

I blink, dazed, as he leans up, crawling over me again, his mouth brushing mine.

I moan, frustration clear in my voice.

“Pouting because I didn’t let you fall apart yet?” he teases.

“Screw you,” I snap, breathless. “There won’t be a next time anyway.”

“No next time, huh?” he murmurs, a small chuckle slipping out.

I nod, defiant.

He dips down, lips grazing my jaw.

“How do you get this wet,” he murmurs, “and still lie to me like that?”

I open my mouth to sass him again, but the second he brushes my clit with his hand, I whimper instead.

“Ass,” I breathe.

“Brat,” he says, pressing two fingers to my clit, rubbing slow circles. I gasp, my moans shaky, my back arching off the bed.

“You feel that, baby?” he whispers. “That’s just my fingers. Imagine what my cock will do to you.”

My pussy squeezes around nothing, my eyes fluttering shut. I grind my hips against his hand, and he lets me.

“Oh, you like that? You like thinking about my cock inside you?”

He starts to work my clit faster, making that familiar tension coil low in my belly. I’m close again. I bite my lip to keep the moans in, but it’s useless. My body’s already ready to fall apart under him.

“You gonna come?” he whispers.

I nod, frantic, on the edge—

And then he pulls his hand away.

I let out an actual sob of frustration, my body trembling.

“Jace, please!”

“You beg so pretty for me.” He tilts his head, his breath ragged. “Should I make you come?”

“Can you?” I challenge, pushing his button.

“Can I?” he repeats, while I’m trying to hold myself together with the last fraying thread of my sanity.

He shifts, kneeling between my thighs, towering over me.

His hand moves to the front of his shorts, untying them with that same calm, dangerous control that’s been unraveling me all night.

Then he buries his thumb under the waistband and pulls down, revealing his carved V-line. Lightning flashes behind him, followed by the sound of thunder and the guys yelling. It makes the moment feel even more forbidden… even more intimate.

His cock springs free.

Oh my God.

My mouth falls open as I take it all in. How do guys walk around with that between their legs? How am I going to take it between mine?

He watches my reaction—sees my eyes widen, sees the panic and the awe and the heat all crashing into each other.

“Too big for you, baby?” he murmurs.

I can’t even answer. He pushes his pants down farther, tossing them aside before doing the same with his shirt.

Now he’s naked in front of me, and I understand why he acts the way he does.

I’d be this cocky too if I looked like that—every inch of him shifting and flexing in the soft glow of the lamp.

He’s devastatingly stunning. Wide, round shoulders. Prominent pecs. Abs cut deep. His body matches his face—both infuriatingly perfect.

The throbbing between my legs worsens.

He leans over me again, body hovering just above mine, his cock dragging along my thigh as he settles between my legs.

“Last chance,” he warns, voice low. “You tell me to stop, and I stop.”

“Don’t stop.” I shake my head.

“You want my cock?”

“Yes,” I whisper, cheeks heating.

I’m actually doing this. Holy shit, I’m actually about to do this with him. I might regret it later—when I see his face plastered on a magazine with a headline about his newest fling—but right now, none of it matters.

He shifts his hips forward just enough to drag the thick length of him along my slit, slow strokes that make my thighs tremble. He slaps it once against my pussy, again, then rubs the head up and down through the soft, wet ache between my legs.

I whimper and arch my hips.

He grins, cocky and possessive and fucking unfair, before lining himself up.

The head nudges at my entrance, and my breath stalls in my throat.

This is it.

My left hand wraps around his thick forearm while the other fists the sheets. Pressure builds—a thick stretch that makes my body tense and my eyes flutter shut.

The moment the head of his cock presses through my entrance, my breath catches and my body goes rigid under him.

And Jace freezes completely. Still braced above me, muscles tense, abs flexed, every inch of him heavy and hot and ready… but he stops.

Just the tip, but it’s enough—because I know he feels it. The resistance.

I see the exact second it hits him. His jaw clenches and his eyes flicker with realization.

“Melody.”

I look up at him, chest rising and falling too fast, throat tight. He stays still, doesn’t pull away and doesn’t push forward.

“You’ve never…” he starts, voice raw. Then he cuts himself off and clenches his jaw, breathing hard through his nose like he’s trying not to lose it.

He lowers his head until his forehead rests against mine, his voice almost reverent when he speaks.

“You should’ve told me.”

“You would’ve stopped.” I swallow hard.

“Not a chance,” he says, his gaze locked on mine. “You’re all mine.”

He shifts his hips forward, just the tiniest bit, until the pressure against my entrance returns. My hands grab at his biceps, bracing.

And still, he doesn’t thrust. He waits.

“You sure you want this?” he asks, voice thick with restraint. “Me to be your first?”

Just him checking in again is enough to make my chest ache. I want to give this to him. I want to give this to myself.

So, I nod.

“Words, Melody.”

“I want it,” I whisper. “I want you.”

He kisses me—slow, patient—and with his mouth still on mine, he starts to press in.

I gasp at the foreign feeling, already stung by the stretch.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice cracking.

His hips shift slightly. He eases forward, deeper, the head already breaching me. His teeth graze my neck as he drags his cock back just a little, then nudges forward again, the pressure sharp and insistent.

“You’re gonna let me take this pussy,” he growls. “Let me make it mine.”

“Yes,” I whimper. My thighs clamp tighter around his hips. My nails dig into his arms.

He stills, one hand braced beside my head, the other gripping the base of his cock. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them—storm clouds swallowing fire.

My heart’s trying to beat through my ribs. He leans in again, brushing his mouth over mine before trailing down to my neck, kissing me slow.

“You ever touch yourself thinking about this?” he murmurs. “Thinking about me inside you, fucking you?”

I try to say yes, but all that comes out is a broken sound. My head tips back as he kisses lower, across my collarbone. Every inch of me burns.

“Of course you did,” he breathes.

I arch into him and he smiles against my skin. Then I feel it—the pressure shifting, the push. My lips part as my body clamps down, muscles locking.

It’s too much, not enough, everything all at once.

And then—resistance.

There’s a sharp sting as he breaks through. My breath jerks in too fast. The ache is sudden and raw and deep.

I grip his arms like a lifeline, every nerve lit up.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grits out, voice strained.

He holds still. Barely inside me, and already I feel stretched, filled. I’m gasping, blinking through the blur of pain and pleasure.

His hand slides to my cheek, thumb grazing gently. “Breathe.”

I do, shaky and slow.

“There you go.” His voice drops, reverent. “You’re taking me so goddamn good.”

He moves again, slow and careful, slipping deeper. My body clenches. He groans—a low, wrecked sound like he’s holding back with everything he’s got.

“I know it burns,” he murmurs. “But I need to feel all of you.”

The pressure blooms sharper as he inches in. My legs shake. He stops again, forehead resting against mine.

“You okay?”

I nod, breath caught in my throat, and tilt my hips just enough to draw him in more.

“That’s my girl,” he growls.

He rocks forward again, sinking in another inch. Every nerve screams. I feel every ridge of him, thick and hot and pulsing. His jaw clenches.

“You feel that?” he pants. “Feel how this tight little body stretches for me?”

My fingers claw at his arms. He pushes deeper and I swear I can feel him in my stomach. Each inch is like a new kind of possession—breaking me open and putting me back together all at once.

“You’re taking it,” he grits. “Fucking perfect for me.”

He kisses my lips, then my jaw, down my throat. And then he stills again, buried almost all the way.

“You want the rest?” he growls.

I nod, eyes wide.

His hand slides under my thigh, hooking it around his waist. “Deep breath, baby.”

He thrusts, a deep, slow slide that burns and stretches and overwhelms. My walls grip him tight, not used to the invasion, and he lets out a strangled curse.

“Jesus fuck,” he growls.

A choked whimper leaves me as the last of him pushes inside. His hips press flush with mine, and I swear I can feel him everywhere. I’ve never felt so full, so owned.

He brushes my cheek again, grounding me. “Eyes on me,” he commands.

I look up, and he’s already locked on my face.

“That’s me, girl,” he breathes.

He pulls back just slightly, then thrusts in again—slow and smooth. The sting fades. The pleasure takes its place.

“Oh my god,” I gasp.

“You gonna tell me this is a one-time thing?” he murmurs. “That you’re just getting me out of your system?”

“Yes,” I pant.

He chuckles—low, cocky—and draws back before slamming into me harder.

I cry out, the shock of it rushing through me.

“Liar,” he growls. “You’ll feel me tomorrow. Every step, every breath—you’ll remember this cock inside you.”

He bites at my throat, then kisses the mark. Thrusts again. Harder. Deeper. My back lifts off the bed.

“You think I’m stopping now?” he rasps. “You think I’m done with this pussy?”

I try to answer, but all I can do is moan.

“I’m gonna fuck you again, Melody,” he whispers, rocking into me. “And again. And again. Until you stop pretending it’s not what you want.”

My legs wrap tighter around him. He moves inside me like he’s starving—like this is the only thing that’s ever mattered.

Each stroke is rougher now. Deeper. His rhythm building with a hunger I can feel in my bones. He drags almost all the way out, then drives back in hard, stealing the air from my lungs.

I gasp, nails digging into his back as the pressure builds, slow and steady. It’s molten. Alive. Winding tighter with every thrust.

“Fuck, you feel unreal,” he grits out, jaw clenched. “This pussy was made for me.”

The words make my body clench, and he feels it.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “There she is. You’re gonna come, aren’t you? Just like this. Wrapped around my cock. Falling apart for me.”

His mouth crashes to mine—hot, hungry, devouring—and I melt into it, every part of me unraveling beneath him.

“You close?” he pants against my lips.

I nod, barely holding on. “Yes,” I whisper, voice breaking.

“Let go for me,” he growls. “Come on my cock, Melody. Let me feel you break.”

He slams into me harder, faster. His rhythm loses all patience. It's raw now. Powerful. Desperate. Like he’s been waiting years for this.

My body hits the edge and topples over.

I come with a cry that rips from my throat, everything going white as I clench hard around him, wave after wave crashing through me.

“Fuck—Melody—” he groans, pulling out just in time. His hand wraps around his cock, pumping once, twice—and then he comes, hot and thick across my stomach, his whole body shaking with it.

His mouth crashes into mine at the same time, swallowing my whimpers, growling into the kiss like he’s branded me from the inside out.

We’re both still panting.

His forehead rests against mine, lips brushing, not quite kissing, just breathing me in. His hand still cupping my thigh, his body heavy and warm above me.

Everything’s quiet now except the storm still rolling in the distance, the men outside, and the sound of my lungs trying to remember what normal feels like.

Jace pulls back just enough to look down. His eyes land on the mess he left across my stomach – hot, sticky proof of what just happened. Of what we just did. His lips twist in a smirk, satisfied and dark.

“You scratched that itch?” I murmur, blinking up at the ceiling now, not him. “You can go back to the other girls.”

He stills, smile fading like I slapped him.

I feel his fingers, soft under my chin, tilting my face back to him.

His brows are furrowed, his mouth tight. He searches my eyes for something.

“Is that really what you think of me?” he asks, voice low.

When I don’t answer, he leans in closer.

“Melody,” he says again. “Is that what you really think?”

I look at him and I say the only thing I can.

“Prove me wrong.”

Something breaks in his expression before he kisses me softly. Not a kiss to seduce, it’s a kiss to keep. Then he wraps his arms around me, scooping me up in his arms

“I will,” he says, plants a kiss on my forehead.