by Avery Flynn
Heat flash through her, tightening her nipples and making the pulse in her sex throb like a bass drum. It pounded through her blood stream, so hard she was sure Matt could feel it vibrate in her body. His own body heat was surging into hers, heating her blood, and, even through the layers of their clothing, she could feel the hard, swollen thickness of his cock.
Matt thrust his fingers into her hair, cupping her head and moving it one way then the other as he took the kiss even deeper. When he broke the contact, they were both breathing hard. He trailed his lips over her cheek and down the column of her neck, gently nipping the lobe of her ear.
“I can’t believe I almost lost you.” He murmured the words against her skin. “I was so fucking stupid. I’ll never be that much of an idiot again. Count on it.”
“I’m stunned you remembered that dream I told you so long ago, about a romantic night.” She pressed herself against him more tightly. “You did good, Matt. You got to my heart.”
He lifted his head and gave her a heated look. “And now I’m going to get to the rest of you.”
In his bedroom, he undressed her with slow gentleness, one item at a time. He unzipped her dress, sliding the straps from her shoulders and dusting her skin with light kisses. When he let it drop, it pooled on the floor at her feet, leaving her in sandals, tiny apricot bikini panties and a matching strapless bra. His eyes ate her up as he let his gaze travel from her neck down to her feet, still clad in their strappy little sandals.
Slowly, he brought his hands up to cup her breasts, brushing his thumbs over the fabric covering her nipples. She sucked in her breath at his touch, shivering when he closed his mouth over one nipple, fabric and all. A soft moan drifted in the air and she realized it was her. She wanted to rip off the bra and offer her bare breasts to him, yet at the same time she wanted him to take his time. Not rush this. She’d waited so long hoping this would happen again.
When he’d satisfied himself with her nipples, he knelt before her and peppered little kisses over her midriff and abdomen, working his way down to the lace banding the top of her panties. He ran the tip of his tongue across the edge of the lace once then twice, before trailing it down to the triangle of fabric covering her sex. Very slowly, he licked the surface of her mound, back and forth, before nudging her thighs wider and tracing the length of her slit, panties and all.
She was shaking so badly now she had to clutch Matt’s shoulders to hold herself steady. She began to rock back and forth, pushing herself against the heat of his tongue.
Then, abruptly, he stopped and rose to his feet. When she opened her mouth to protest, he touched her lips with the tip of a finger.
“One of us has too many clothes on, and neither of us should have any on.”
He yanked the covers on the bed back and guided her to sit on the edge. With his eyes still focused on her, he stripped off his clothes with quick efficiency, kicking them to the side along with his shoes. Her eyes widened at the sight of his muscular, toned body and the thick, swollen cock standing proudly away from his groin. She tried not to flinch when she saw the scar from his surgery, still an angry red after all these weeks.
“It will fade,” he told her, his body suddenly tense. “They assured me of that. It just takes time.”
“It’s just a scar,” she told him. “It’s not who you are.” She reached up and touched his chest where his heart was. “This is who you are. Do not forget it.”
He blew out a breath, and the tension eased from him. Then he knelt before her again, lifted one foot and undid the straps of the sandal. He eased it off, dropping it to the floor, then bent his head to lick her arch and drop a kiss on her toes. By the time he repeated it with the other foot, she was shaking again with need.
And they’d hardly done anything yet!
Leaving trails of tiny kisses, he divested her of her bra and panties before moving her up on the bed so her head was on the pillows. Placing himself between her legs, his powerful thighs spreading her toned ones, he cupped her face in his big palms and stared into her eyes, a deep, searching look.
“I meant everything tonight, Lizzie. I love you. I’m sorry I was such a jerk all these years, and I am beyond grateful that you accepted my ring. I promise I’ll be worthy of you every day of our lives.”
She smiled at the earnest expression on his face. On the verge of mind-blowing sex, he was still determined to make sure she knew he was all in this time.
“It’s all good, Matt.” She caressed his face “But it won’t be if you don’t get busy again. And right away.”
He winked. “Yes, ma’am.”
After that, he got very busy. He used his mouth on every part of her, every inch of her skin. He pulled on her nipples with his lips and scraped them with his teeth until she nearly came just from the sensations that caused. He trailed kisses over each part of her body—shoulders, arms, midriff, abdomen, and down to her mound that she was glad she’d waxed recently.
When he spread her thighs and bent his head to her sex, she shivered at the sensations he caused, the stream of air he blew on her heated flesh. The soft stroke of his tongue, the tiny pinch of his teeth on her now very sensitive clit. He nipped and licked and sucked until she was crazy with need. At the moment she wondered if she would spontaneously combust, he spread open her labia and drove his tongue into her hot, waiting channel. As aroused as she was, it didn’t take long for her orgasm to explode, gripping and shaking her as she rode the strokes of his tongue.
“One more,” he told her as he looked up at her, his mouth shiny with her juices.
“I want you inside me,” she pleaded. “Please.”
“Soon. Very soon. But one more of these first.”
“I can’t. Please.”
“Sure you can.” His voice was low and rough and heated.
This time, he worked her with his fingers, sliding two inside her as he pulled on her clit with his mouth, sucking and drawing and teasing, pushing her up that long heated slope again until her body convulsed once more, shaking as a second orgasm claimed her.
She was still trembling from the aftershocks when Matt grabbed a condom from the nightstand where he’d dropped it, rolled it on, and slid his hands beneath the cheeks of her butt to lift her up to him.
“Here we go, Lizzie.”
He drove into her, filling her with the thickness of his shaft, so long that the head of it touched her womb. He paused a moment, letting her adjust to the size and girth of him before he began the slow, dragging strokes that quickly pushed her up that erotic climb yet another time.
Liz wrapped her legs around his waist, digging her heels into the small of his back to hold him as close to her body as she could. They moved in a rhythm old yet new, forgotten yet not. In and out, thrust and retreat, slower at first then faster and faster, his balls slapping against the rounded edge of her butt, until everything around her fell away and nothing existed except her and Matt and their joined bodies.
“Look at me, Lizzie.” His voice was raw with need. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
She did, locking her gaze with his. What she saw in them made her heart swell. And then, with a final thrust, he took them both over the edge. Shudders gripped them, shook them, and even with the thin sheath of latex she could feel the pulsing of his cock as he emptied himself into her.
Liz lost herself in the intensity of her release, tightening her legs around him even more until the last of the spasms had faded and their breathing returned to somewhat normal. They lay there, replete, arms wrapped around each other. He drifted kisses over her lips then pressed his mouth to hers as he murmured, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I promise you will always come first with me. Always. Forever.”
“I know.” And she did. It made her heart expand with a warm feeling.
When they could both breathe again, he eased himself from her body and went to dispose of the condom. As he started to climb back into bed, he noticed his cell ph
one, which he’d muted and dropped on the nightstand, was vibrating like a grasshopper.
He scowled. “Who the hell is calling me at this time of night?”
“Better find out.” She leaned up on one elbow. “It might be important.”
He shrugged. “I don’t get important calls anymore.”
“Oh, and another requirement here. No more self-pity. You hear?”
He gave her a tiny grin. “I’ll do my best.”
“Aren’t you going to see who called? Go ahead. I’m dying of curiosity.”
He brought up the list and frowned. “What the hell is Jeff doing calling me now?”
Liz frowned. “Who’s Jeff?”
“My agent. I hope he’s not calling just to chat about the television spot today.”
“You think he’s upset because you turned it into a marriage proposal?”
“He’d better not be.” He pressed the screen to call back. “Yeah, Jeff? What’s so important it can’t wait until morning?” He listened, his forehead scrunched up. Then a stunned look swept over his face. “What? What did you say? Can you repeat that?” His eyes widened. “Holy shit. Yeah, yeah, I can do that. But give me a couple of days to make arrangements. I’m bringing someone with me. Uh-huh. Yes.” He grinned. “Yes, I finally got my head out of my ass. Okay. I’ll call you in the morning. What? Oh, right. Thanks. That’s a help.”
He disconnected the call and sat there just staring at Liz, the phone in his hand.
“Well? Are you going to tell me? Come on. It’s killing me.”
“You won’t believe this.”
She sat upright and grabbed his arm. “Tell me already, before I slug you.”
“Okay, okay.” He swallowed. “Jeff says there’s a foundation based out of Chicago that runs hockey camps for disadvantaged youth, many of them with physical disabilities. They also award scholarships and help kids who really want to go to college. You won’t believe this, but they want me to be their spokesman. The front man. Help them with their fundraising and all.”
“But that’s wonderful.” She threw herself at him, looping her arms around his neck. “Oh, Matt. I’m so excited for you.”
He shook his head, even as he pulled her naked body against him. “I can’t understand why they want me. I’m nobody. At least, not anymore.”
Okay, that was enough.
“Matt Vorchak, you stop that this instant, or I’m giving back this ring.”
All the color washed out of his face. “Lizzie, you can’t mean that.”
“I do if you don’t stop this self-pity. The man I love had a great career, won a trophy few teams ever get to hold, and now is in a position to give back to the community.” She cocked her head. “Maybe talking about pursuing a goal and the setbacks you faced, your injury, and rebuilding your life after the ice. How about that?”
Finally, his lips curved in a slow smile. “Can I take you everywhere with me to be my spokesperson?”
“Not a chance. This is your gig.” She smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “But I will go to Chicago with you. That’s what you were telling your agent, right?”
“You bet. We’re a matched pair now, and this is too important for me to walk into by myself.”
“And what did he say that you told him was a help?”
“He told me to bring the Cup with me, instead of waiting for the team to send someone. He’ll be sure to get it back to them.”
“That’s very nice of him.” She couldn’t wait to meet the man who had been so responsible for Matt’s career and been so close to him all these years.
“Okay. So, in the morning, we’d better call your folks and mine and tell them our good news, although I’m sure Brenna has already spilled the beans.” Matt nodded. “And they’ll be mad at me for not calling tonight.” His lips curved in that smile that now turned her on every time. “But I wanted you all to myself tonight.”
“Fine. So we’ll do that. Make plane reservations. I’ll check with Dara and make sure everything’s covered at the office.”
“And when we get back, we’re planning that wedding right away,” he insisted. “I’m not losing you again.”
“No problem.”
“But first…”
“First what?”
“First this.”
He lowered her down to the pillows again and came over her with his big, muscular body, holding her as if she were fragile as glass.
“I hope you’re not tired, because I don’t think we’ll get much sleep tonight.”
She laughed, just happy to be here in his bed with him. “Trust me. Sleep is highly overrated. We’ll have years to make up for it.”
“I’m counting on it.”
And then his mouth came down on hers again, and, once more, he made her completely his.
Epilogue
From Sports Daily
How lucky was this reporter to be in the airport in Chicago when the Cajun Rage defenseman, Matt Vorchak, deplaned with two prizes: the Cup and a brand new fiancée. Matt had just finished his twenty-four hours with the Cup and was delivering it to his agent, hotshot Jeff Bentsen.
Bentsen was at the airport to help Vorchak and his fiancée, Liz St. John, navigate the sudden crowd that appeared. A lot of people wanted an autograph or a selfie with the player who scored the winning goal in the seven-game championship series. We’re all aware that a great career was cut short when Matt suffered a bad knee injury in the last game. We’re happy to see a tiny limp is the only sign of the injury.
Vorchak and St. John held hands while they patiently answered questions for the crowd until Bentsen managed to get them out of the terminal,
Word is Vorchak will be the new spokesman and public face for the Kids and Hockey Foundation. KHF provides opportunities for kids who want to play hockey, including those with some physical challenge. They also award a number of college scholarships annually.
Before making his escape from the crowd, Vorchak also indicated that he would be making a substantial contribution to the foundation himself.
We wish Matt and Liz a lot of happiness and look forward to seeing more of both of them in the future.
About the Author
Referred to by USA Today as the Nora Roberts of erotic romance, Desiree Holt is the world’s oldest living published erotic romance author. A graduate of the University of Michigan with double majors in English and History, her earlier careers include agent and manager in the music industry, public television, associate vice president of university advancement, public relations, and economic development.
She is three times a finalist for an EPIC E-Book Award (and a winner in 2014), a nominee for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award, winner of the first 5 Heart Sweetheart of the Year Award at The Romance Studio as well as twice a CAPA Award winner for best BDSM book of the year, and winner of the Holt Medallion for Excellence in Romance Literature.
She has been featured on CBS Sunday Morning and in The Village Voice, The Daily Beast, USA Today, The (London) Daily Mail, The New Delhi Times, The Huffington Post and numerous other national and international publications. She is also the Authors After Dark 2014 Author of the Year.
“Desiree Holt is the most amazing erotica author of our time and each story is more fulfilling then the last.” (Romance Junkies)
Learn more about her and read her novels here:
www.desireeholt.com
www.desiremeonly.com
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Also by Desiree Holt
Knockin’ Boots
Forward Pass
Line of Scrimmage
The Omega Team
Breakaway Brooke
by
Angi Morgan
To everyone who needs a little magic in their life.
And Amanda…she knows why.
1
Forty seconds on the c
lock.
Deacon Sanders hopped over the wall to join his first major league hockey game. His face hit the freezing slab. Rough ruts grooved into the ice by blades sharp enough to slice a tendon ground against his cheek.
He was dreaming again and couldn’t tell if the rink was inside or out. He was safer inside. Prayed that he was inside where he’d stay cold. He could take the cold…not the drowning. But dawn came quickly in the dream, then turned into the full-blown heat of summer.
He was going to drown. Dream.
Wake up. It’s a dream.
Surrounded by water. Just a dream.
Without warning–except for the fact he’d experienced the dream many times before–he sank. The weight of his hockey gear quickly dropped him to the muck of the pond’s bottom.
Air bubbles escaped his lips, rising, passing by his eyes. He wanted to swallow them and pull the oxygen back into his lungs. He tried to swim to the surface. He could see the rink’s lines above him, but he couldn’t rise. Blocks of ice encased his skates. He slid the Cajun Rage gloves from his hands. He couldn’t move his blue, frozen fingers.
If he could just reach the skate laces and free his feet.
Wake up. It’s just a dream.
The laces were knotted. Loops and loops upon more double loops of knots. Tight knots to keep them safely secured. Like when he was a little kid and his mother had freaked because he wanted to play hockey. They were secure. He’d never trip over them again.
Wake up.
Something in his dream-state was wrong. His lungs were bursting. He needed air. Why couldn’t he blink his eyes, wake-up and be free?
I want to wake up.
A sharp jab to his ribs saved him from drowning. The breath he’d been holding escaped like a bubble popping.