Twisted Wrister: A Next-Door-Neighbor Sports Romance (The Playmakers Series Hockey Romances Book 7)

by G. K. Brady

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  Pushing her hair from her face, he licked his lips and rasped, “You taste amazing, M, and I want more, but this position is killing me. Where’s your bedroom?” Without waiting for an answer, he scooped her up, and she wrapped her legs around him and pointed toward the hallway that, he dimly registered, mirrored his own. Once inside, he laid her out on the bed and began removing his clothes, frustrated by buttons and a belt that took more concentration than he had in his arsenal. He was so ready to crawl up her body, skin to skin, and slide inside. Pulling in a deep breath, he told himself to slow down. Again.

  In one corner of the room, a lamp stoop beside an overstuffed armchair, and it suffused the space in soft amber, mingling with dark-shadowed pools. Michaela’s soft frame was outlined in a golden glow. Her arms lay gracefully over her head, and she drew up one knee, her body rocking beguilingly, slowly, side to side as she watched him through half-lidded eyes. She oozed sex. She was a wet dream. A fucking centerfold, with her full breasts and her creamy skin. He branded the image in his brain so he could conjure it in the future. This, right here—her splayed out and ready for him—was what he would see every time he took himself in hand.

  Losing the shirt, he dropped on the edge of the mattress beside her and yanked off his socks, his shoes, his pants and boxers until he was as naked as she was. His palms and eyes roved over her supple form, and she rose to meet his touch, sensual sighs tumbling from her lips. Though she didn’t say it aloud, he heard her call with every look she gave him, every ripple of her body. Because of him, she was purring for him to take her, to fuck her, this instant.

  He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple a fist lodged in his throat. Shit. This was the part he hated. He leaned over, forearms planted on either side of her shoulders, and her arms encircled his neck. “What about birth control?” The excruciatingly practical question could wield a sledgehammer against the velvet-cloaked ambience dripping with sexual anticipation. Passion temporarily iced, spontaneity suspended.

  Her arms slid from him, and she rose up on her elbows, tilting her head in confusion. “I’m on the pill, but don’t you use condoms?”

  “Normally.” He hesitated a beat, toying with blurting out what was running through his mind. Always, but I don’t want any barriers with you. I want to feel all of you surrounding me. “I’m clean, but I’ll use a condom if that’s what you want.” He held his breath. He’d never given anyone the option before.

  Her cheeks pinked, and she gave a slight nod. He tamped down his disappointment. Whatever she wanted, he’d give her in any way she wanted it. Swinging his legs off the mattress, he folded over his knees, fumbling until he found his pants. He pulled a few packets from his wallet, tossing one beside her and the others on her nightstand. Judging by the cute little smirk on her face, she was pondering whether he could use them all. He didn’t know if he could either. At least she wasn’t laughing him out of her bedroom.

  He leaned over her again, letting his skin slide against hers. She was all heat and silk, and his body was electrified wherever they touched. His mouth found hers, teasing it with his tongue while her arms wound around his shoulders and her taut nipples brushed his chest. A languid dance, he struggled to keep his hands splayed on either side of her, touching with mouths and skin, savoring the taste and feel of her in slow, steady strokes. But her hands weren’t so idle, and when she glided one palm down his chest and over his abs, his muscles contracted and his skin blazed in tiny pinpricks of fire. Her hand closed around his engorged shaft, and slow and sensual gave way to urgency, like a dam bursting inside him. His arms slid under her back, scooping her up, crushing her against him while he plundered her mouth. She ran her fingertips along his length, around it, squeezing lightly, exploring it. Dropping to his balls and exploring those too while breath rattled in his chest.

  Moaning filled his ears—his, as she tormented him, and hers echoing his. She pulled away from his mouth to kiss and lick his jaw and neck hungrily. “I want to taste you,” she murmured, and his cock jumped in her hand.

  “Not tonight.” He didn’t want to come in her mouth, not for their first time, and that was exactly what he’d do as soon as her lips wrapped around his dick. He’d never been so on edge, clinging to control by one taut thread.

  “But you tasted me,” she insisted as she worked over his neck. God, if having her mouth on his neck felt this good, sliding his dick into her mouth would be heaven. But it was something he could hold out for, something to look forward to.

  There will be more than just tonight, if I have a choice.

  “Hmm?” she hummed and pulled away, her lips curled in that half-smile.

  Had he said that out loud? He stared at her, stroking her hair, wrapping a curl around his finger. “I did taste you, but I wasn’t quite done yet.” Before she could react, he maneuvered her on her back, tossed her legs over each of his shoulders, splitting her wide, and pinned her pelvis down to the mattress. “I want more,” he rumbled right before he dropped his open mouth on her. Nose nuzzling her, he used his tongue to flick and lick and probe, his teeth to scrape and nibble, and his lips to suck and sip and lap and lave relentlessly. Her whimpers, wails, and gasps fueled him. Hands fisting the bedcovers, she alternated between bucking to escape the sensual torture and pressing into his mouth with wanton abandon.

  And he loved it. Loved watching her throw her head side to side, her chest heaving and her beautiful breasts bouncing. Loved every fucking second he drove her body through the wild, to the edge, until her muscles seized and shuddered, and he tasted her orgasm on his tongue.

  He’d never known eating someone out could be such an aphrodisiac. That pleasing her, that having the power to strum her body until it shattered would make him want to beat his chest and howl. And he would have continued the onslaught too—could have gone on for days—but she pried his hands from her hips and panted, “I want you inside me. Now.” The demand held no bossiness, nor was it a plea. Simply her honest, uninhibited way of saying she wanted him. So different and so fucking hot. Damn if his ego wasn’t cartwheeling around his hammering heart.

  His own inhibitions uncoiled, and his cock practically yanked him forward in its impatience to get to her, to bury itself deep inside the wet seam he’d been bestowing with unbridled devotion. Yeah, he wanted in. So damn much. Wanted to seat himself to the hilt and lose himself inside her. Join with her in a primal dance.

  Her flailing hand on the bedcover snapped him to. She was searching for the condom, but before her fingers could locate it, he surged to his knees and snatched it up, tore it open with his teeth, and nearly botched getting it on as desire flooded his body and brain.

  Her hands on his arms and the sweet moans rising in her throat urged him on her, in her, but he needed to slow down or risk firing off all his bottle rockets at once. In a bid to distract himself, he zeroed in on the crimson flower adorning her shoulder. From there, his eyes traced the vines and were quickly snagged by her luscious breasts—breasts that beckoned and begged him to fondle and lick one more time. Dipping his head to suckle each one, he lingered a few more moments before settling between her welcoming thighs. He bracketed her arms, his weight spanning his forearms. Clawing for control, he breached her tight entrance, sinking in slowly, his eyes squeezed shut as the feel of her core cradling his cock overtook him. He found himself oddly grateful for the condom dulling the sensation. Going bare, feeling her moist heat pulling him in, might be more than he could take. Beneath him, she whimpered and gripped his biceps while she tilted her hips to take all of him in. When he was fully seated, he stilled and snapped his eyes open to find her staring at him, though he had no idea what played in her silver orbs.

  “Is this all right? Are you all right?” He sounded ridiculous, but a frisson of alarm jolted him. He’d been so focused on the intense pleasure pulsing from his cock that his brain had switched off for a beat, leaving her in the dust.

  Her fingertips danced over his shoulders an
d into his hair, then cupped his jaw. She regarded him with a tenderness he’d never seen and wasn’t sure he deserved. “I’m wonderful. Just enjoying … this … you,” she murmured.

  He pushed the curls off her face, raking his fingers through her hair. “Yeah, I’m enjoying you too.” You are wonderful. Never felt anything like you. He covered her mouth with his and began moving inside of her, slow and steady, matching the strokes of his tongue inside her delectable mouth. He didn’t get far before the heat coursing through him cranked up to full flame. He flexed his hips, driving in and out of her, and his mouth and tongue dueled hers in deep, wet kisses. Her hips rose to meet him thrust for thrust. His heart pounded, his breathing grew labored, and he felt the familiar sensation at the base of his spine that he wasn’t ready to give in to. A groan tore from his lungs.

  Boldness flared inside him, and he stopped and pulled out. Her lashes fluttered, and a little frown creased her brows. Her chest was stained raspberry-red, and her breaths came in short bursts. “What is it?”

  Without answering—not in words anyway—he rolled them both over and pulled himself upright so he sat with his back against the headboard. Dragging her up his body, he placed her hands on his shoulders and lifted her until she straddled him, her heat snugging against his shaft jutting between them. He ran his hands along her neck, over her shoulder, down her arms, cupping her forearms and pulling her closer.

  Tilting her head, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and sawed on it while she considered him. “What are we doing?”

  “I want you to ride me,” he said. I want to watch your gorgeous tits bounce while you’re fucking me, and I want to watch your beautiful face when you come. Holding her gaze, he caressed her breasts and gently rolled her nipples between his thumbs and fingers until they turned into tight beads. He leaned forward and gave each one a flick of his tongue, then repositioned her so she was poised above his cock. Eyes locked on his, she wrapped her fingers around him and lined him up with her entrance, then lowered her body, impaling herself in one go. Eyes wide, she gasped, and air left his lungs in a whoosh.

  Jesuuuuus!

  Arching her back, she dropped her head back and began to move, sheathing and unsheathing him as she worked her body up and down his steely length in long strokes. Fascinated, he watched her mouth part while a series of low moans rolled from her.

  My God, she was the most fucking erotic, most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

  Hands gripping her hips, he fought to let her set the tempo, arm-wrestling the beast rearing up inside of him, the one that wanted to own her and fuck her mercilessly. These feelings were new to him. He loved them, but they twisted him inside. They exhilarated him yet terrified him. They made him woozy, yet he felt more alive than he’d ever been. She was addictive; he already ached for the next fix without getting his first one.

  And God, while he loved watching her body sway in its sensual dance in front of him, loved gliding his hands over her hips, her ribs, palming her breasts at will, the visuals overwhelmed him.

  Lust scrambling his brains, he surrendered to his inner beast, and with a grunt, he rolled them back over without breaking the connection. He yanked her to him roughly, their pubic bones grinding together. Then he bent her legs, slotting his hands at the backs of her knees, and pushed her thighs apart, opening her completely. Eyes closed, her hands reached above her head and grasped the bars of her headboard as if bracing herself for a wild ride, and she pulsed her pelvis against him, egging him on.

  He withdrew, only to plow into her harder, in and out, over and over, again and again, flexing his hips, driving, drilling, as she squirmed and moaned and whimpered and writhed underneath him. He pounded her with a fierceness he didn’t know he had. And the harder he went, the louder she got, the more animated her body grew, until she shouted out incoherent words and came to shuddering halt. A few more hammering strokes, and all of him let loose in a blinding flash as he followed her over the edge of ecstasy, the earth crumbling away below him.

  Chapter 19

  The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

  Michaela’s heart jackhammered in her chest as all the little shattered pieces of herself drew back together again, like shards of a broken mirror reassembling themselves. Spread over top of her was one large man, his smooth skin slicked in sweat, his sandpaper jaw smashed against her left breast. Whenever he drew in a breath—which was frequently, considering he was panting like he’d just completed multiple laps around the ice—his sexy stubble that hadn’t been there at the start of the evening scraped her tender flesh. It tickled but didn’t, the sensation dancing a fine line along a razor’s edge between pleasant and prickly.

  He raised his head and peered at her with a hesitant smile curving his oh-so-kissable lips. “I’m crushing you, aren’t I?”

  “No. I just sank a little deeper in the mattress is all.” And you feel really good right where you are, so don’t you dare move. She smoothed his hair back, and he leaned into her touch with a contented sigh. Something warm and fuzzy bloomed in her heart.

  Heaving himself up on a forearm, he dipped his head and gave her nipple a light suck. “Wouldn’t want to crush these.” Then he gave the other one the same treatment. “Or make this one jealous.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  She laughed, and her muscles clenched and pushed him out.

  “Damn, woman. You just spat me out. I didn’t think the joke was that bad,” he mock-protested, his grin broad. “I get the hint. Guess I should clean up anyway.” He ran the back of his finger along her cheek, and his expression shifted to something far more serious and tender. “So beautiful,” he murmured. Then he hoisted himself off of her with a grunt.

  You make me feel beautiful. Like no one ever had.

  Rolling to her side, she admired his squared-off man butt as he sauntered toward the bathroom like he owned the place. “Are you checking out my ass?” he called over his shoulder.

  “No more than you’ve been checking out my boobs.” Maybe she needed to show his cheeks as much attention as he’d shown her breasts. Lick and suck and bite. Repeat.

  “Which is code for you’re totally checking it out.” He shot her another playful look before closing the door behind him.

  Giggles percolated inside of her as she flopped onto her back. Oh my! Just like his kissing, very few improvements were warranted in the bedroom. Her body was suspended, floating atop a cloud, and she fluttered her hand over her belly, her chest, lingering a beat on each hypersensitive breast. She’d never felt quite so … worshipped before. She was pretty damn sure she glowed all over, and she reveled in the feeling.

  When he emerged from the bathroom, she remembered herself and snatched her hand away. Heat crept over her already flushed skin.

  “Your bathroom has the same layout as—hey, those are mine. But go ahead and play with them if you like, as long as I get to watch.” He gave her a ridiculous leer, then dropped his big frame on the mattress beside her, making it dip under his weight as he stretched out on his side. Elbow bent, head resting on the heel of his hand, he trailed the calloused tip of his finger from her breast bone to her belly button.

  “Do that again.” His voice came out thick and rough.

  “Do what again?” She injected innocence into her tone.

  “Cute, but I’m not buying it.” He dropped his mouth to her ear and whispered, “I saw you touching yourself.” When he pulled back, smugness was etched in his features. Suddenly, his face fell and his mouth formed an O.

  “What?” You realized you said, “Those are mine”?

  “Nothing.”

  She poked his hard chest. “Ooh, about broke my finger.” She grinned when his lips quirked. “Tell me what’s bugging you. It’s not like we have a lot to hide here.”

  “It’s just that … if you were doing what I’m pretty sure you were doing”—he waved a hand vaguely over her chest— “it means I didn’t do a good job.”

  Was this his male ego asking to be stro
ked? No, he looked devastatingly sincere—worried, even. She ran the back of her hand along his powerful jaw, and he caught her hand and kissed her palm before returning her hand to his face. “No, it means you did a great job, and I was testing to see if I could duplicate the sensation. For the record, it feels way better when you do it.” She bounced her eyebrows a few times. Sure, she was indulging him—he had a few well-earned attaboys coming his way—but she couldn’t hold back the laughter bubbling inside her when his face lit up like a little kid’s at the sight of a table full of birthday presents.

  “Yeah?” He splayed his big hand over her belly, warming it.

  “Yeah. Kinda rocked my world there, big guy, but don’t let it go to your head.”

  He chuckled. “Duly noted.” Then his light green gaze began roaming over her body, scalding her skin wherever it lit.

  A zing vibrated her core, and chills raced to her extremities, raising her skin into goose bumps and hardening her achy nipples—a reaction he did not seem to miss, judging by the flare of appreciation in those eyes. Self-conscious, she craned her head to better look at him. “Are you ogling me?”

  His gaze met hers squarely. “Every chance I get. I really like your girlie parts, by the way. All of them.” Before she could toss out a rejoinder, his mouth returned to hers, tasting of the smoke and vanilla that lingered from the bourbon. He kissed her long and wet and sweet. Unmistakable hunger surged, though he seemed to hold it in check before his kiss grew demanding, his tongue probing and possessive, making her toes curl.