Page 24 of What If I Hate You (Anaheim Stars Hockey #6)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

BARRETT

I never thought my kitchen floor would feel like holy ground, but with Blakely Rivers spread beneath me, her hair fanned out against the tiles and her eyes wild with hunger, I'm ready to worship at this altar until my knees bleed.

I grip her hips hard enough to bruise, positioning myself at her entrance, the head of my cock sliding through her slick folds.

"You sure about this?" I ask one last time, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears.

"For fuck's sake, Bear," she growls, wrapping her legs around my waist and digging her heels into my ass. "If you don't fuck me right now, I swear to God?—"

I thrust into her in one powerful stroke, burying myself to the hilt, and whatever threat she was about to make dissolves into a high, broken cry that echoes off the kitchen cabinets.

"Fuck," I hiss through clenched teeth as her heat envelops me completely. She's so tight around me I see stars, her inner walls gripping me like she's trying to pull me deeper. I stay still for a moment, letting her adjust to the stretch, but she's having none of it.

"Move," she demands, digging her nails into my shoulders hard enough to draw blood.

I obey, pulling out slowly before driving back in with enough force to slide her across the tile. The sound she makes—half-gasp, half-scream—ignites something primal in me. I set a punishing rhythm, each thrust harder than the last, watching her face contort with pleasure as I claim her.

"Is this what you wanted?" I growl, gripping her thigh and hiking it higher around my waist to hit that spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back

"God, yes!" she cries, her back arching off the floor. "Harder, Bear. I need it harder."

I slam into her with renewed force, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the kitchen. Her nails rake down my back, leaving burning trails I'll wear proudly tomorrow. I want her marks on me. I want everyone to know I've been claimed.

"Fuck, Blakely," I pant, watching her breasts bounce with each thrust. "You feel so goddamn good. So perfectly tight."

She reaches up, yanking my head down to crash our mouths together in a kiss that's all teeth and tongue and desperation. When she bites my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, I growl into her mouth, retaliating by latching onto her neck, sucking and biting a mark that will be impossible to hide.

"Mine," I growl against her throat, a primitive need to mark her surging through me.

I want to leave evidence of this moment all over her body; a map of everywhere my mouth has been.

"I'm going to make sure you can't look in the mirror without remembering this," I growl, shifting my weight to drive deeper.

She moans as I suck another bruise into her collarbone, her hips bucking wildly against mine, meeting each brutal thrust with equal force.

We're animals now, all pretense of civilization abandoned on this kitchen floor.

Her hands are everywhere, in my hair, scoring my back, gripping my ass to pull me deeper.

"Fuck, yes," she hisses when I hit that spot deep inside her that makes her walls clench around me. "Right there, don't stop."

I hook my arm under her knee, changing the angle so I can drive even deeper, and she screams. A raw, unfiltered sound that reverberates through my entire body. I've never heard anything so perfect.

"You like that, sweetheart?" I growl, driving into her relentlessly. "You like when I fuck you so deep you feel me in your throat?"

"Yes!" she cries out, her eyes locked on mine, pupils blown wide with lust. "God, yes, Bear!"

The kitchen floor is hard beneath us, but neither of us cares.

I'm lost in her. In the slick heat of her pussy gripping me like a vise, in the wild abandon on her face as she takes everything I give her.

Her nails dig into my biceps, leaving crescent-shaped marks that sting deliciously.

I want more. I want her to mark me everywhere, brand me as hers the way I'm branding her.

"Turn over," I command, pulling out of her, suddenly desperate to take her from behind.

She complies immediately, flipping onto her stomach with a graceful urgency.

I grab her hips and yank her up onto all fours, her perfect ass raised in invitation.

I'm on my knees behind her in an instant, guiding myself back to her entrance, teasing her with just the tip until she whimpers and pushes back against me.

"Fuck me into submission," she demands, looking over her shoulder with fire in her eyes.

“Sweetheart when I’m done with you, you’ll be lucky if you can even walk tomorrow.”

I slam into her with enough force to make her scream, my hands gripping her hips with bruising intensity. The new angle lets me go impossibly deeper, and I watch, mesmerized, as my cock disappears into her over and over again.

"Jesus Christ," I groan, the sight of her taking all of me nearly making me lose control. "Your pussy is my new favorite thing. You're fucking perfect, Blakely."

She drops to her elbows, changing the angle yet again, and I nearly black out as her walls clench around me.

My hand comes down hard on her ass, leaving a red handprint that makes her moan even louder.

I do it again, watching the pink bloom across her skin as she pushes back against me, taking me deeper.

"Fuck yes," she hisses, her voice muffled against her arm. "Mark me. Make it hurt."

Something snaps inside me at her words. I lean forward, draping my body over her back, one hand tangled in her hair while the other reaches around to find her clit.

I yank her head back by her hair, exposing the long column of her throat, and sink my teeth into the sensitive juncture where her neck meets her shoulder.

"Oh god!" she cries out, her inner walls clenching around me so tight I nearly come right then. "Bear, fuck!"

I work her clit in rough circles as I pound into her from behind, feeling her body tremble beneath me. She's so responsive, so perfect in the way she takes everything I give her and demands more. I can't get enough of her taste, her scent, the sounds she makes when I hit that spot deep inside her.

"You're mine," I growl against her ear, my voice barely recognizable. "Say it."

"I'm yours," she gasps, her walls fluttering around me. "And you're mine, Bear. All mine."

The possessiveness in her voice sends a fresh wave of heat through me. I've never wanted to belong to anyone before, but with Blakely, the thought of being claimed makes me harder than steel. I release her hair to grip her hip again, holding her steady as I drive into her with renewed force.

Her nails scrape against the tile as she braces herself, her body trembling with each thrust. I'm consumed by her.

The way her back arches, the sweet curve of her spine, the perfect roundness of her ass as it meets my hips.

I'm drunk on the power of making Blakely Rivers, the woman who terrifies men twice her size with just a glance, come undone beneath me.

"Fuck, I'm close," she moans, her voice ragged and desperate. "Don't stop, Bear. Please don't stop."

I increase my pace, my fingers working her clit with ruthless precision as I slam into her over and over. The kitchen is filled with the obscene symphony of our bodies, skin slapping against skin, her breathless moans, my guttural groans, as her pussy takes me deeper with each thrust.

"Come for me. Let me feel you come all over my cock," I command, my voice raw with need. "I want to feel you shatter around me."

She responds with a broken cry, her entire body tensing as the orgasm rips through her.

Her pussy clenches around me in rhythmic pulses, milking my cock with such intensity that my vision blurs at the edges.

I continue driving into her through her climax, prolonging the waves of pleasure that have her sobbing my name.

"That's it, sweetheart. That’s a good fucking girl," I growl, feeling my own release building at the base of my spine. "Take it all."

Her arms give out completely, and she collapses forward, her cheek pressed against the cool tile as her body continues to tremble.

The sight of her completely wrecked beneath me pushes me closer to the edge.

I grab her hips and haul her back up, impaling her on my cock with such force that she screams my name.

Her body is limp with pleasure, completely surrendered to me, and the power of it drives me to the brink.

"I'm going to fill you up," I growl, my rhythm becoming erratic as I chase my release. "Going to mark you from the inside out."

"Yes," she moans, her voice hoarse from screaming. "Please, Bear. I want to feel it."

Her words are my undoing. With a roar that tears from the depths of my chest, I slam into her one final time and explode, pumping her full of my release as stars burst behind my eyelids. The pleasure is so intense it's almost painful, wave after wave crashing through me as I empty inside her.

I collapse forward, barely catching myself on my forearms to avoid crushing her beneath me.

We're both panting, sweat-slicked, and trembling in the aftermath.

I can feel my release leaking from her, marking my kitchen floor, and I've never seen anything so goddamn perfect in my life.

I press my forehead between her shoulder blades, my breath hot against her skin as I struggle to remember how to breathe normally.

Holy fuck.

That just happened.

"Jesus Christ," I whisper against her spine, pressing a soft kiss to the vertebra that juts out prominently. "Are you okay?"

She makes a noise—half laugh, half groan—and turns her head to look at me over her shoulder. Her eyes are glazed, her lips swollen from my kisses, her hair a wild tangle around her flushed face. She's never looked more beautiful.

"If I say yes, will you do that again?" she asks, her voice deliciously hoarse from screaming.

I can't help but laugh, the sound rumbling from deep in my chest. "Give me five minutes to remember how to breathe, and I'll fuck you on every surface in this apartment."

I carefully pull out of her, both of us groaning at the sensation, and roll onto my back beside her on the cold tile.

My chest heaves as I stare at the ceiling, my body humming with satisfaction.

Killer chooses this moment to reappear, meowing indignantly from the doorway as if offended by our display.

"Your cat's judging us," Blakely says, her voice raspy as she turns to face me, wincing slightly at the movement.

"He'll get over it," I say, reaching out to trace the marks I've left on her body; purple bruises blooming on her neck, red handprints on her hips, bite marks scattered across her collarbone and breasts. She's a masterpiece of my own making, and something primal in me thrills at the sight.

"You're staring," she states, reaching out to trace the scratches she left on my chest.

"Can't help it. You're fucking beautiful," I say, pulling her against me despite the hard floor beneath us. "Especially covered in my marks."

She smiles, a lazy, satisfied thing that makes my chest tighten in a way that has nothing to do with sex. "I think I marked you pretty good too." Her fingers trace a particularly deep scratch on my shoulder. "This one might scar."

"Good," I say, kissing her forehead. "I want the reminder."

"I didn't mean to claw you up so badly."

"Yes, you did," I counter. "And I fucking loved it."

We lie there in comfortable silence, our breathing gradually slowing, her head on my chest and my arm wrapped around her.

Killer eventually approaches, sniffing curiously at our tangled limbs before deciding we're not worth his attention and wandering off again.

I feel Blakely shiver against me as the sweat cools on her skin.

"Cold?" I ask, already shifting to bring her closer.

"A little," she admits. "Kitchen floors aren't exactly designed for post-sex cuddling."

I laugh and sit up, pulling her with me. "Come on. Let me take care of you."

I scoop her into my arms, her body feeling impossibly light against my chest as I carry her toward the bathroom. She nestles against me, her fingers tracing patterns on my skin.

"I can walk, you know," she protests, but there's no conviction behind it.

"Maybe. But I like carrying you." I kiss the top of her head. "Plus, I did promise to ruin your ability to walk tomorrow, didn't I?"

She lets out a startled laugh, bright and real, and I realize I've never heard that sound from her before. It does something to my chest—makes it feel both lighter and heavier at the same time. "That you did. And I'd say mission accomplished."

In the bathroom, I set her gently on the counter and turn to start the shower.

As steam begins to fill the room, I look back at her, this beautiful, fierce woman perched on my bathroom counter, covered in marks of passion, her hair a wild tangle around her shoulders.

The sight of her hits me square in the chest with a feeling I'm not ready to name.

"What?" she asks, catching me staring again.

I move between her legs, cupping her face in my hands. "Nothing. Just… this is better than I imagined."

"You imagined this a lot, huh?" She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer.

"More than I should admit."

"Every surface?" she asks, a wicked glint in her eyes.

"Every. Fucking. Surface." I punctuate each word with a kiss along her jaw. "Starting with the shower."