Page 51 of You’re The One (Saints Hockey #2)

“For the right price.” He smirks, lacing our fingers together and tugging me down for another kiss. “Do you like it?”

A breathy laugh escapes before I can stop it—and thank God, it’s not another round of tears. “You got it for me…”

He nods. “I’m the beekeeper, remember?”

This man .

I kiss down his neck, then over his chest, until I reach the bee tattooed right over his heart. I kiss it, too.

He shudders beneath me, and I look up through my lashes. “I love you, you crazy fool.”

Chuckling, he pulls me back to him. “I love you, baby. Now, let me have some honey.” He winces. “Took it too far, didn’t I?”

I laugh. “Yeah. Let’s never say that again.”

“If you kiss me, I can’t talk,” he reasons.

So, I do.

The kiss breaks me apart and puts me back together all at once. I don’t even realize I’m moving until I’m grinding against him, chasing my release from friction alone. Everything feels sharper, more vivid—like I’m seeing in color after being stuck in grayscale.

He groans and mumbles against my mouth, “Let me take care of you.”

I don’t get a chance to answer before he rolls us, settling between my legs. “Tell me if you need anything. If you want to stop.”

“I won’t,” I whisper. “I need you.”

“I can do that.”

Dom kisses his way down my body, re-learning me with each slow drag of his mouth. He presses a kiss to the hollow of my throat, then another lower, until he reaches my breasts. He sucks one nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing lightly, and I arch with a gasp.

He grips my hip. His fingers dig in just enough to hold me still, to make me feel his full weight. It heightens everything. Makes it impossible to pretend I have any control left.

I probably whimper, maybe beg, but I’m too lost in the feel of him to care.

He doesn’t give in. Just keeps working me higher and higher with no relief.

I finally manage a full breath when he moves, his hand shifting from my hip to knead the flesh of my ass.

I’m so out of my mind that I’m certain the second he even grazes my clit, I’ll come.

He reaches my belly button, dips his tongue in, then pulls back completely to look down at me.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I need to come. And that you’re a terrible tease.”

“I think they call it edging,” he says with a low laugh, planting a quick kiss on my lips before starting all over again.

This time, his fingers trail along my thighs, slipping to the edge of where I ache the most, then pulling back again. Deliberate and infuriating.

I don’t know how long it’s been. Only that my thighs are damp, and he hasn’t even really touched me yet.

Can sex get you high? Because this… this might be the closest I’ve ever come to the feeling. My skin’s buzzing, and I swear I’m floating.

When he takes my mouth with his again, I whine, “Please. What’re you doing to me?”

“Do you feel good, la mia fiamma ?”

I shake my head, not in refusal but in pure frustration, and he chuckles in response.

“What are you thinking about?”

“What am I…” I snap, then stop short, because there’s nothing. My mind is completely blank. No thoughts. Just him. And the kaleidoscope of sensation pulsing through my body.

He must see the moment the realization hits, because his mouth curves into that ridiculously sexy, lopsided smile.

“Is this treatment you’re planning to administer on a regular basis?” I tease.

“Happily.”

The third time really is a charm. He makes quick work of his previous path of torture—glorious torture, but torture nonetheless.

He laps, nips, and sucks on each of my hips, and all I can imagine is the sensation lower.

When his tongue finally drags from my entrance to my clit, I practically jackknife off the bed. He’s still holding my lower body in place, so it’s just my upper half that lifts.

I stay propped on my elbows, wanting to watch him devour me. He groans when his deep blue eyes meet mine, the sound vibrating straight through me.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I chant as he pulls hard on my clit.

Now that I’m so close, my tune has changed. I don’t want to come. I don’t want this to end.

But my body, and apparently my mouth, have other plans. “Give me your fingers.”

He eases back just enough to speak. “No.”

“No?”

“You’ll come on my tongue.” His voice is low, firm. “And then I’ll give you more.”

“Oh, God,” I moan. Because if words alone could get me off, those would.

When he buries his face in me, I gain a new appreciation for his mustache, and when he sucks my clit again, I stand no chance of holding back the orgasm that crashes through me, stealing my breath.

I’m still panting when I register his words: “Give me one more,” just as his fingers slip inside me and my walls flutter around them.

“Fuck, Mia.”

Through half-lidded eyes, I catch him kneeling between my still-spread thighs. He wraps a hand around the base of his cock, stroking slowly, thumb dragging over the slit glistening with precum. His other hand keeps working inside me, matching the rhythm. I can’t look away.

“Dom, fuck me.”

“No.”

My brows pull together. “Well, you’re bossy today. Why not?”

“I’m enjoying this view too much. Play with your tits, baby.”

I do, and his hands speed up. He adds another finger, and I clench around them, the pressure coiling tighter.

I’m so close again .

I suck a finger into my mouth, using the wetness to circle my nipple. Dom’s gaze locked on my every movement.

“Fuck.” His hand on his cock moves faster, the one inside of me momentarily forgotten. “Fuck. I’m gonna?—”

His words break off as he comes, groaning, spurting across my thighs. He shudders through it, and I get a front-row seat to every flicker of pleasure on his face.

He’s really quite beautiful. Funny that I ever thought differently.

When he blinks his eyes open and looks at me, his cheeks flush. “Fuck. I like you covered in me.”

“Me too.” I curl my fingers around the hand on my thigh and tug him down into a kiss that makes my head spin. “Give me one more.”

He chuckles. “Who’s being bossy now?”