by Avery Flynn
"Why should I stop touching you?" she asked, tightening her legs around him and rocking her hips for some glorious friction as she slipped one hand free from his grasp.
He took a step back, barely having to use the muscles in his thick thighs built in the gym and honed on the ice to break her leg hold. "Because it's too much."
She stilled her fingers just as she slipped the button free on his jeans. This fast rush, the near-blinding, frenzied need, it had always been a part of their interactions—almost as if they were two magnets helpless to the pull. But that was before. This was after. And that was different, a fact that squeezed her lungs tight.
Unable to meet his gaze, she kept her attention locked on the dark stubble on his jawline. "Am I doing it wrong? A way you don't like?"
"No." A single word and nothing more.
"But no touching?"
She watched his jaw square, the muscles at the hinge of it bulged before he released a harsh breath, and she braced for an answer that she knew would leave a mark.
"Not by you," he said.
An ache blossomed outward from her chest, the foreknowledge that it would happen doing nothing to blunt its impact. "I never meant to hurt you."
A beat of charged silence and then, "Who said you hurt me?"
Ignoring every instinct for emotional self-preservation, she forced her gaze upward. "You just did."
His fingers wrapped around her wrist tightened, grinding the small bones together, as he stared into her soul, his dark eyes were endless pools of bittersweet yearning. It was enough to make her breath catch and her throat tighten. She'd done that, put that there—or at least added to it. One more sin to add to the very long list that shadowed her everywhere. Then, he changed before her eyes. The hunger replaced with something hotter as he let his gaze travel down her body so turned on despite the angry undercurrent sizzling between them. By the time he'd gotten back up to her face, he'd lowered her hand and had slid both of them in-between their bodies so her palms cupped his hard cock still trapped in his pants.
"You want to touch, Sparkles?" he asked, putting mocking spin on the nickname he'd given her. "There you go."
His cock twitched against her palm, thick and ready. Call it muscle memory for his body. Call it one for the road. Call it insanity. Whatever the reason, her body responded with an ache in her core that made her thighs clench.
"You're a real bastard," she said, but didn't pull her hand away.
"Legally and personally, I know," he said without even a hint of regret. "So do you accept my conditions? I want the words."
She should tell him to fuck off. The words were on the tip of her tongue but that's not what came out. "I accept."
It was almost worth listening to the shit he was shoveling for the look of surprise that flashed in his eyes before he sidestepped away from her, reached behind his head, and pulled his shirt off.
"Then be naked by the time you get to the bedroom."
Without another word, he turned and strutted down the dimly lit hallway off the kitchen, never looking back as he dropped his clothes in his wake until he didn't have a stitch on. Not watching the show wasn't an option. It wasn't just that the view was an unparalleled example of an athlete in prime form, but the fact that he was a cocky enough asshole to pull such a stunt. It was the kind of bordering-on-crazy behavior that had been a part of him as long as he'd been playing. For all she knew, it had been there for longer. Maybe he was born with that fuck-you chip on his shoulder. Damn her contrarian spirit, she liked it there.
She hopped down from the counter and hesitated with her fingers on the hem of her shirt. If Orlando was still out there, she didn't want him to see this. The bedroom blinds were definitely staying shut. Neither he nor Flynn might believe her, but she wasn't fucking him for the job or out of guilt or because of a perceived insecurity. She took off her shirt and let it fall to the floor then reached behind her for the hook and eye closure of her bra. The air was cool on her bare skin, making her nipples pucker even more than they were before. The lace joined her shirt and she brought her hands down to the button on her jeans. She slipped the denim and lace of her panties down in one smooth motion. Leaving her clothes in a pile, she started down the hall, anticipation and desire growing with every step.
So why was she doing this? Because she was selfish and probably—no, definitely—a fool. She'd take one last night with Flynn whatever way she could. Love was a real bitch that way.
Flynn
Flynn stood in the middle of the bedroom, his back to the door. He wouldn't look. He could hear her coming, her footsteps were muffled by the carpet but he could pick it out anyway. She shouldn't be coming. She should have smacked him across the face, told him to fuck off and stormed out—probably to hotwire his truck and drive it to wherever she was staying for the night. He'd done everything he could think of to make that happen but—an awareness blew across the back of his neck.
"Close the drapes," she said, a hard edge to the words.
He tensed, the simmering frustration at his inability to force her to do the right thing or do it himself boiling upward. "You're not the one giving orders."
"Fine." She strutted past him, the moonlight highlighting every curve, every ebb and flow of her body as she crossed to the window and shut out the rest of the world.
The light from the hallway still gave enough illumination to let his memory fill in the blanks. Dusky pink nipples so sensitive to his touch. Tits just big enough to fill his hands and call to his mouth. The pinch of her waist before her full hips rolled outward in an exaggerated figure eight. And her legs—he gulped—they went on forever and she'd always wrapped them around him with a deceptive strength. He refused to fill in her face. No, more like he didn't have to. That was imprinted on him forever. After what she'd done, it should be so easy to bleach her from his brain. However, no matter how hard he tried to forget, he couldn't—and that just pissed him off more.
His fingers twitched, the desperate need to feel the silk of her skin tormenting him. "Don't expect this to be nice."
She jutted her chin up, proud and as stubborn as ever. It fucking gutted him, but he couldn't give in. He couldn't afford to get lost in her again.
"Who said I was looking for roses and candlelight?" she asked.
"That never was your speed." He didn't mean to, but he moved toward her. Closing the distance wasn't a choice. It just happened.
She shook her head, the tips of her long hair dancing across her tits. "No."
"You like it hard." Unable to stop himself he reached out and rolled her peaked nipple between his thumb and finger as she bit down on her bottom lip. "You like it intense." He pinched his thumb and finger together, watching as her eyelids lowered and listening to her shaky intake of breath. "You like it a little rough." He tugged her nipple, pulling it taut until a needy moan slipped from between her slightly parted lips.
None of that should matter. Tonight shouldn't be about what Gillie liked. He'd fuck her, get his rocks off, and kick her out. That was it. That was all.
And it could have been, if he hadn't made the fatal mistake of touching her. Now he couldn't stop. He released her nipple and slid his fingers over the swell of her tits, then down her sides.
"I don't trust you." To put it mildly—especially not when the woman who yanked his still-beating heart from his chest and almost cost him his career was here promising to save one and leave the other alone.
She didn't flinch. "I know."
"I don't love you." He glided his hands over the dip of her waist to the small of her back before cupping her ass and picking her up.
She wrapped her legs around him, bringing her wet core into alignment with his cock and her face eye-to-eye level with his. "I know."
"You should leave." As if either of them had a choice at this point—and damn it there was a large part of him that was glad of that, and he wasn't even talking about his dick.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she undulated against h
im. "I know."
He lost vision for a second, the whole world turning into a freshly Zambonied ice rink. "But you won't."
"No." The single word was a soft breath against his lips.
In that instant the ice cracked beneath him. He'd lasted as long as he could—longer than any man could be expected to. Bad idea didn't begin to cover it but he didn't care. It wasn't about good or bad at this moment. It was only about the woman in his arms, the one who'd lied to him, set him up, nearly ruined his life, and was still the one whose memory he couldn't shake.
Gillie fucking Pike.
Flynn gripped her ass tight as the first drops of pre-come pooled on the tip of his stiff cock already slick with her desire.
He reached up and grabbed a fistful of her hair and held it tight, his mouth an inch from hers. "Sparkles, we're both fucked."
One side of her mouth curled up. "Yes."
There was nothing left to say and so he didn't. He just brought his mouth down to hers and gave in completely to the madness.
Gillie
God Flynn felt good against her. Solid. Constant. Hard as steel. And he kissed like a man who'd spent his whole life holding back and was finally letting loose. Good. She could take it. Hell, she wanted it.
Giving as good as she got, she dipped her tongue inside his mouth—teasing him by twisting her hips against him at the same time to elicit a rumbly groan from deep in his chest. The sound started a shiver inside her that traveled up her spine. She wanted—needed—more of him. Now. She'd waited three years. She was done waiting.
Lifting her hips and adjusting the angle, she slid her slick folds up his hard length until the tip of his cock pressed against her entrance. Pleasure rippled through her at even that limited contact and expanded as she lowered herself down onto him. His hands on her ass tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he filled her.
"Fuck, Gillie," he said, his voice a raspy whisper.
She would have answered if she could, but words didn't have a place in her head. There were only sensations—the electric blast of oh-my-God and yes-now sizzling through her as their bodies moved together in a heady rush toward the edge of the world. It wasn't fair. It shouldn't be like this with him. It would be so much easier if it weren't. But her life had never worked like that before so why should it when it came to love?
Locking her fingers together behind his neck, she twisted to change the angle and take him deeper, harder, more. He followed her lead, using his powerful arms to drive her down hard on his cock and then lifting her back up again until there was only the tip inside her. It was blissful torture to feel him come and go as he rubbed against the bundle of nerves forming her G-spot and thrust deep inside, sparking an electric vibration that made her thighs quake as she squeezed her legs tighter around him.
"Damn, you're tight." He surged inside her, his hands holding her in place tight against him and not letting her rock against him or rise up on him. "I'm gonna come if we don't slow down."
Her core clenched around him. "Don't you fucking dare."
"I already told you." He lifted her up off his cock and tossed her down onto the bed. "You aren't the one giving the orders."
"Flynn." Damn, she sounded just as desperate as her body felt.
"Don't worry, Sparkles," he said, standing at the edge of the bed, his hand curled around his wet cock. "I'm not done with you yet."
He'd deliver on the promise—at least when it came to tonight. She didn't doubt it for an instant. Even if she hadn't fallen for Flynn the man, it would have been hard to resist Flynn the lover.
He grabbed ahold of her legs and jerked her to the edge of the bed before sinking down to the floor on his knees and resting one of her legs on each of his strong shoulders. Tilting her head up she caught a flash of divine wickedness in his eyes before he dipped his head and blew a cool breath against her overheated core. Sensation slammed into her and she bucked against him.
"Poor Gillie." He brushed a soft kiss against her inner thigh. "You're so close already, aren't you?"
The cocky bastard knew she was.
She raised her hips higher, unable to move any closer to his teasing mouth with his hands holding her legs in place with an iron grip "So what are you going to do about it?"
He released one of her legs and slid a single finger inside her, enough to tease but not enough to bring the satisfaction she needed. "I could draw it out. Make you crazy with want."
And he'd do it. He'd done it before, taking her higher and letting her simmer there until she was a sweaty pool of need, too desperate to care that she was begging for release.
"Next time." It came out too breathy to be taken seriously but it was the best she could do.
"Already planning ahead, Sparkles?" he asked, rewarding her by adding another finger and scissoring them inside her.
Her spine bowed. "I can't be held responsible for what I say when you're doing that."
"How about this?" He lowered his mouth to her wet, straining clit and sucked it hard before swirling his tongue around it.
Over and over he alternated between sucking, licking, thrusting with his fingers, lapping, rubbing, and doing things she didn't even think there were words for. She fisted the bed and whatever smart ass answer she may have had was lost in the lusty moan his actions tore from her. For once, he didn't have anything to say either. The man known throughout the league for his ability to trash talk through any game no matter how intense the play must have lost himself between her thighs and Gillie wasn't about to pull him back from the magic he was doing with his fingers, tongue, lips, and a soft graze of teeth. All she could do was hold on to the comforter, dig her heels into his back and ride the wave rushing toward her.
"Don't stop," she managed to get out as the tingling in her thighs climbed the Richter scale.
Maybe he heard and heeded her words. Maybe he was too into eating her out to stop. It didn't matter. She was too high now to do anything but fly. He curled the fingers inside her at the same time he sucked her clit and she shattered, her orgasm breaking against her and washing away the rest of the world as she cried out her release.
Flynn
Fuck. Flynn drew his hand across his mouth wet with her as he watched Gillie come down from her climax. Watching her do that never got old.
The only thing better was watching her come while he was buried inside her. His heavy balls tightened as he remembered the way she'd milk his cock and scrape her nails down his back or chest or wherever she could reach depending on their position when she came.
She gave him a considering look from beneath hooded eyelids, a satisfied, lazy smile curling one side of her lush mouth. "More please."
"You always were demanding." And he'd always been ready to meet and exceed every one of them.
"I know." Her hand dropped to her tit and she toyed with one stiff nipple. "It's a real hardship."
"Speaking of hard," he curled his hand around his cock and squeezed the base tight to clear his brain a little, "I don't have a condom."
The realization had hit him while he was buried balls deep in her earlier. That wasn't something he'd ever forgot before. Following in his shithead of a father's steps and becoming an accidental daddy wasn't something he'd ever do. And yet with Gillie, he'd forgotten. Just one more example of how dangerous she was to his sanity.
"Have you given up the bunnies?" She smiled when she asked, but it was tight around the corners.
Still raw from how quickly he'd slipped with her, he kept his gaze level. "For the moment."
In truth, the bunny blow jobs and sloppy fucks had lost their appeal—right about the time he'd pulled himself out of the self-destructive hole he'd been in when he'd left Dallas with Gillie in the rearview mirror.
"I'm on the pill."
Did he believe her or did he just want to believe her? A better man would stop to consider. Flynn had stopped lying to himself about being that kind of guy years ago.
"You're sure you're okay with that?" he
asked, pre-come pooling on the tip of his cock in anticipation.
She grazed her teeth across her bottom lip as she peered up at him from beneath her eyelashes. "Only if you hurry up and fuck me."
His cock twitched in answer. Only an idiot would deny a beautiful woman and his own aching dick. Flynn might be almost as crazy as the sports reporters like to call him, but he sure as hell wasn't dumb. His hands cupping Gillie's ass, he lifted her as he stood so her shoulders were still on the bed while her wet entrance lined up with his cock. Unable to look away, he held his breath and watched as his dick slowly disappeared inside her. He nearly nutted just from that one slide home but there was no way he was going off this soon, not when there was nothing between them but dangerous attraction that electrified every nerve ending in his body.
It took conscious effort, but he managed to take in a deep breath, steady himself and finger-by-finger relax his bruising hold on her ass. It was a sin to mark such perfect skin even if part of him wanted to do it just to claim her as his own. That wasn't how this was going to work. He refused to get played by her again. This time, he knew better.
That cold reminder was enough to help him make a few more leisurely strokes in and out of her grasping pussy without coming. But it wouldn't last. It couldn't. Not when he touched her. All it took was the sound of her soft moan, the way her hips lifted to meet his thrust, and the feel of her slick desire that pulled him to the sharp ice skate blade's edge between heaven and hell. The next move forward was harder, faster, deeper than the others. Ecstasy rippled across his skin.
"Oh my God, yes Flynn," she cried out.
Five words and he was lost. There was no more denying for either of them. Holding her tight, he drove his hips forward as he yanked her to him until her clit ground against him. The white heat of pleasure stole his vision, but he didn't need it anymore. All he needed—wanted—was to feel her as she met him stroke for stroke. Sweat beaded at the nape of his neck. The nerves at the base of his spine buzzed and vibrated. His balls tightened. His lungs seized. There was no going back. He sank deep, angling his hips so the tip of his dick rubbed against her G-spot with each thrust. Over and over again he buried himself inside her, clenching his teeth together so he wouldn't come before her, until that sweet moment when she screamed out his name and squeezed his cock like she'd never let him go. He had half a heartbeat to relish the sensation before it became too much and he sank deep inside her and let go, his orgasm pulling his body taut before draining him and leaving him draped over Gillie's equally sated self.