Page 123 of Breakaway Hearts
When I finally come for him again, I pull his hand away from my suddenly too-sensitive clit. “Fuck! Reese! Oh god.”
He drops his head to kiss me as he pistons his hips, his thrusts turning choppy.
“Gonna mark you,” he groans. “Gonna mark youeverywhere, Firefly.”
Then he pulls out suddenly, kneeling between my legs as he jerks himself off roughly. The muscles in his neck strain as he comes, ropes of cum spattering my chest and stomach. Before he’s finished, he shoves his cock back inside me, letting the last few pulses of cum fill my pussy.
Marking me everywhere, just like he said.
His cock slowly starts to soften, but he doesn’t pull out yet. Instead, he stays right where he is, his gaze traveling over my body as he takes in the sight of me sprawled out beneath him.
“What are you thinking about?” I whisper, blushing slightly under his intense scrutiny.
He lifts a hand to trail it absently through the mess of cum on my skin.
“That day when you came to the arena for my game and I gave you my jersey to wear, seeing it on you affected me more than I thought it would,” he admits. “I sort of brushed it off at the time, because I didn’t think I could let myself feel that way about you, but… even then, it did something to me. I remember thinking that my fake girlfriend looked so gorgeous wearing my name on her back.”
“And what do you think now?”
A broad smile spreads across his face, and he presses his half-hard cock deeper inside me. “I think myrealgirlfriend looks even better wearing my cum and nothing else.”
I grin, my cheeks warming. “Sweet talker.”
He arches a brow, bringing his messy fingers to my lips. “You love it.”
I lick them clean, loving the way his eyes darken as he watches me.
“Yeah,” I admit, feeling happier than I have in a long time. “I do.”
Chapter42
Reese
“You need to go,” Callie says with a laugh. “You’re going to be late.”
“I mean, does it really matter? So what if I’m a few minutes late?”
I grin at her, kissing her tempting lips even as she puts her hands on my chest and pushes me toward the door. We stayed in bed until the last possible second, neither of us willing to move, but we finally had to get up so I could shower and get ready to leave.
But fuck, I don’t want to go anywhere.
Not after last night. Not after this morning.
“A few minutes will turn into a few hours, which will turn into you not showing up at all.” She arches a brow at me, resting her hand on the doorknob behind me. “You love hockey more than life itself. You can wait a few hours to kiss me again.”
She’s right, I guess. Icanwait to kiss her for a few hours. But absolutely no part of me wants to.
So I claim her lips again, and she leans into it this time, her body molding against mine in a way that really makes me want to blow off everything else.
“I can still call Dunaway,” I murmur. “I’ll call in sick.”
She grinds against my hardening cock for a second, then steps back and pulls open the door, letting a rush of cold air flow into the house.
“Go on,” she says, doing her best to give me a stern look despite her sex-mussed hair and flushed cheeks. “Get to practice. I’ll see you when you get home.”
In open defiance, I kiss her a few more times. She’s harder to leave than any woman I’ve ever been with—especially after last night and this morning. Knowing that she feels the same way about me that I feel about her? Knowing that she’s mine for real? Fuck, it’s incredible.
These thoughts careen through my head as I drive to the arena for practice. I arrive a few minutes before we’re meant to begin, giving me just enough time to scramble into my gear and head out onto the ice with the rest of the team.