Cannon (Carolina Reapers Book 5)

by Samantha Whiskey

  “Lower,” I pointed to her hand. “You can’t grip it like a golf club.”

  She swung again, and I cringed as the thousand dollar stick struck the ice at the completely wrong angle. “I can’t even do this right!”

  I skated over and stopped a few inches from her. “Let me help.”

  “How the hell do you skate like that?” She shook her head. “I mean, I know you’re the fastest skater in the NHL or whatever, but you seriously move like those things are part of your feet.”

  “Fastest skater or whatever,” I muttered with another grin as I spun her around. “Leave it to you to minimize my number one selling point.” Wrapping my arms around her from behind, I put my hands over hers to give her the right grip.

  “It’s just never been what I think of when you come to mind.” She turned her head so her lips nearly grazed my cheek.

  Fuck, she smelled like apple blossoms again, and the scent went straight to my dick. After living with the woman for the past six weeks, I’d hoped that her effect on me would lessen, but that wasn’t the case. I just found more things to like about her and had more chances to stare at her, which led back to finding more things I liked about her.

  “Okay, then what comes to mind when you think about me?” I challenged her, working her arms through the shot.

  “Well, first impression was your reflexes.” She smiled, and I swore to God, I felt my chest crack open. “Because you caught me.”

  “In the hallway. I remember.” I backed away after the second shot she took, letting her find her own rhythm.

  “And then I realized how smart you are. Stubborn closely followed.” She shrugged at me, but she was still smiling when she turned to fire more and more shots at the net.

  “Hmmm.”

  “That’s a lie…” She turned to me, wobbling for a second on her skates, but catching her balance.

  “I’m not stubborn?” I fired a puck at the net, hitting the top right pocket.

  She followed my shot and rolled her eyes. “Oh, no. You’re as stubborn as a mule. I mean, I recognized your reflexes first, but then I looked up at you and thought you were the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.”

  My grip slackened on my stick, and I nearly dropped it.

  “I still think that.”

  “Figured the tattoos would have scared you off.” My fingers spread over my sternum, trying to rub away the glow that her words sparked.

  “Nope.” She skated closer, running into me slightly when she couldn’t stop. I gripped her elbows to steady her, then let go. “You’ve never scared me. Infuriated me? Absolutely. Frustrated me? Daily. But I’ve always known I was safe with you.”

  “You are.” The words came out embarrassingly gruff.

  “I know. The artwork doesn’t hide the man you are, Cannon.” She swallowed and looked away. “Thanks for bringing me down here. You definitely worked off the anger to a manageable level.” She gave me a half-hearted, fake smile, and skated off the ice.

  We’d left a mess on the ice that I’d have to clean up later, but that little stomp of frustration coming from the bench area told me Persephone was the bigger mess, so I skated her way.

  I came off the ice and propped my stick in the rack next to hers. “Why don’t we scrap the dinner I brought home and eat out—hey, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Go skate.” Her muffled voice came through her hands, where she sat on the bench, holding her head.

  “Bullshit.” I dropped to my knees in front of her and lifted one of her skates into my lap. Her feet were so small compared to mine. “Start talking.” My fingers made quick work of the unlacing.

  “Why?” She raised an eyebrow at me and pursed those kissable lips. “It’s not like you talk to me.”

  “I’m also not the one who needs to do the talking.” I gripped her calf lightly and removed the skate.

  “Because you’re such a well-balanced, open book.”

  She had a point. Fuck, this was why I avoided relationships at all costs. I liked my life the way it was and didn’t want to drag out old shit by talking about it. But I didn’t mind her knowing a little more about me as long as she didn’t mind when she found something she didn’t like.

  “Fine. I’ll answer one of your questions if you answer mine,” I offered as I picked up the next skate and put it in my lap.

  “What was your first impression of me?” she questioned softly.

  I glanced up at her, then focused on untying her skate. “That you were clumsy as hell.”

  She scoffed. “Seriously? I give you beautiful, and you give me clumsy? This game sucks.”

  I smiled as my fingers yanked her laces free easily. Then I did the same move with her leg, cupping her calf and taking off the skate, but this time I didn’t let her leg go when the skate hit the floor. “I couldn’t let you fall. You looked tiny and as delicate as glass, and I was afraid you’d shatter if you hit the floor. Irrational, but that was my first thought.”

  I dragged my gaze up over my Reaper hoodie and found her eyes already on me, searching for something I didn’t know how to give her. But I wanted to. For the first time in my life, I wanted to please someone who wasn’t in a position of power. Old childhood habits died hard.

  “Tiny. Well, I guess I am short.” She shrugged.

  “You guess?”

  “Anyone is short next to someone who’s six-five.” Her nose crinkled as a smile spread across her face.

  “True.” It was the smile that broke me. “I thought you looked like an angel.”

  She sucked in a breath, her eyes flaring.

  “I got you back on your feet, and your eyes…” I slammed mine shut for a second, remembering the moment. “Everything about you cut me to the quick because I knew you were the kind of woman I could never have.”

  The air between us thickened with that electrical charge I only felt around her.

  “Okay.” She nodded, not asking why I could never have her. Somehow this woman knew exactly when to push and when to let something go when it came to me. “I was thinking about what Andromeda said.”

  I nodded, figuring that had been it. “And?”

  “Maybe I am frigid. Maybe that’s how I wound up a twenty-four-year-old virgin.” She gave me a self-deprecating little chuckle. “I just never felt that hunger for someone before, you know? Not that I haven’t been to third base. I have. I’m not completely inexperienced or anything. But when my boyfriends would press me for sex, I’d just break off the relationship, because let’s face it. If you’ve been dating someone for six months and still don’t want to sleep with them, something’s wrong.”

  Suddenly I wanted to know the name of the guy who’d made it to third base with her and permanently remove his hands. Jealous much?

  “I agree. And you’re not frigid.” My hands moved to her knees.

  “You can tell that from one little kiss?”

  “Yes. But I knew that the minute you bought me at the date auction.”

  Her cheeks colored. “Right. That. I was just trying to save you from—”

  “From the hot brunette in the second row?” I teased.

  “Was she hot?” Persephone blinked at me with mock innocence. “I guess I didn’t notice.”

  “Right. Look, no woman who’s frigid or scared of sex climbs a man like a tree in her dad’s study and then begs him to keep going when his hand is one scrap of lace away from her pussy.” There. I said it.

  Her jaw dropped.

  “I couldn’t think of a less vulgar way to put it.” I shrugged.

  “You put it just fine.” Her hands gripped the edge of the bench on either side of her knees. “I didn’t want you to stop.”

  “Persephone.” It came out as a strangled plea. For what? For her to stop? Or for her to continue?

  “Was my sister right? Am I keeping you from finding…satisfaction because I’ve got you tangled up in this marriage?”

  “I haven’t been satisfied since the day I met you,” I admitted,
knowing my honesty would eventually come back to bite me in the ass. “But if you’re asking if I’m going to lose control of my cock because I haven’t gotten laid in the last few months, then the answer is no. And as for what your sister said—I got more satisfaction from kissing you than I have from any sexual encounter I’ve ever had.” It was true. Sex had stopped being fulfilling once I’d laid eyes on Persephone. Once I started seeking out brunettes so I couldn’t give in to the fantasy and pretend I had her beneath me.

  “I bought you because I didn’t want to see you leave with another woman,” she admitted in a whisper.

  “No.” My hands flexed, sliding up to her mid-thigh as need pooled, thick and heavy in my dick. This was a bad idea. We had to put the walls up. Had to ignore the attraction. This could only end in two ways—badly or fucking horribly.

  “It’s true,” she snapped. “I didn’t want to think about you on a date with someone else. Not that I didn’t hear about your escapades from the gossip mill, but that night I just couldn’t stand to know I’d sent you on a date with someone else.”

  I rose on my knees, bringing us level. “No. You bought me because you couldn’t stand to think about me fucking someone else. It had nothing to do with the date.” I pushed her thighs apart and filled the space between them, leaving only inches between us.

  “Maybe.” Her breath hitched.

  “No maybe about it, Princess.” My hands rose on her thighs until I gripped her hips.

  “Don’t—”

  “I call you Princess because to me, you’re untouchable. You’re so far out of my fucking league that you might as well be royalty. Not because you’re cold or fragile, because you’re not. I’ve felt the passion in you, and you prove to me every single day that you’re anything but delicate. Don’t punish me for shit your sister says and stop letting her in your head. I call you Princess because you’re fucking flawless. That’s what I saw that day in the hallway. What I see every time I look at you. You. Are. Fucking. Flawless.”

  Her mouth was on mine before I could comprehend what I’d just admitted to her. Her tongue licked at the seam of my lips, and I opened on instinct, then groaned at the taste and feel of her. Fuck, I hadn’t imagined it, hadn’t blown it out of proportion. Our chemistry was combustible.

  I raised a hand to the nape of her neck, then slid my fingers into her hair, not caring that I was fucking up her little messy bun. Then I tilted her head and kissed her hard and deep, pouring every single ounce of my need and frustration from the last week into it. I kissed her like I’d wanted to when she’d walked out of my bathroom in that damned silk nightgown. Like I’d wanted to every morning when I found her sleeping peacefully next to me.

  She gripped the back of my neck and held me tight against her, whimpering slightly when I’d pull back, just to fall into her again. How the hell was I going to walk away from this woman when I was already addicted to her?

  I’d been addicted since the moment we met.

  Her hands slid down my torso, and I felt my shirt rise over my stomach. I broke our kiss and raised my arms as she took it off. She looked over my body with hungry eyes that showed nothing but appreciation. Then her fingers followed just above my skin, no doubt remembering how I’d reacted in the locker room, air-tracing my tattoos from the dragon that breathed fire from my left shoulder to the inked hands that looked as though they were reaching across my pecs to grip the flaming, crowned heart detailed in the center of my chest.

  “It’s the only empty place,” she whispered as her fingers framed the colorless, empty heart. “Why?”

  “To remind me that no one owns me.”

  Her gaze flickered to mine, but I let her finish her exploration up my neck, where the tats ended until she cupped my face. “You are extraordinary.”

  I kissed her in reply, pulling her against my chest, then lifted myself in the same motion to spin her back on the bench so she sprawled out beneath me. This thing was three feet wide, and I was suddenly thankful for every inch. She broke away, sending my hoodie, then her tank top to the floor, leaving her in a cream-colored lace bra that cupped her breasts.

  “God. Persephone. Don’t—” I shook my head, but she was already tugging me back down to her mouth, to her kiss that stole my words away.

  I trailed kisses down her jaw, then skimmed her neck, pausing just above that magical little place that had driven her mad in the study. I tested my little theory, kissing, then sucking lightly on the spot.

  She arched beneath me as goosebumps rose down her arms, so I did it again and again until her fingers threaded through my hair, and she sighed my name.

  One day I’d make her scream it.

  Ignoring the caution lights in my brain, I kissed my way down to her collarbone, then to the valley between her breasts. Persephone might have been petite, but her breasts weren’t—they were the perfect size to fill my hands, but not overflow them. The pale, soft orbs rose with every breath, and my mouth fucking watered as I lowered my lips to the nipple that showed through the lace.

  “Persephone?” I asked, hovering above her.

  “God, yes!” She arched, bringing her breast to my lips. I licked and sucked her through the fabric while I palmed its partner, then groaned when she filled my hand exactly like I thought she would. She was so responsive beneath me, like a living flame, and I wanted to feel her skin under my tongue, not this lace.

  I reached under her back and unfastened her bra with one hand. She stripped it off herself, leaving her bare to the cool air of the rink. Perfect breasts. Perfect, pink nipples. Perfect Persephone.

  “I told you. Fucking flawless.” Our eyes locked for an instant, hers glazed with want.

  She cried out when I sucked her into my mouth, my tongue swirling over her as her hips rose beneath me. I let myself rock against her once, my cock hard and insistent at the seam of her pants.

  “Cannon,” she moaned, sending another jolt of white-hot need down my spine. Her hand reached across my abdomen, and I barely caught her before she got to my cock. “Please? Let me.”

  I rose above her. “You touch me, and we’ll violate rule number five,” I growled against her mouth.

  “Then fuck rule number five.” She stared up at me with heavy, crystal blue eyes. “Please, Cannon. I want you. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” She nipped at my lower lip to make her point.

  Her first time wasn’t going to be on a goddamned bench. It wasn’t even going to be with me. Pain, sharp and vicious, ripped through my chest at the thought, but it was true. The only way to get us out of this thing unscathed was to hold to that fucking rule.

  “Please,” she repeated, rocking her hips so my cock gave her the friction she sought. “God, you feel good. You make me feel good. Please don’t stop.”

  I groaned from both the pleasure screaming through my body and the heady nature of her words. Fuck, her breaths were coming faster, her thighs were tight around my hips, and she was flushed from cheeks to breasts. Getting her off would be so fucking easy, and then at least one of us would get some relief.

  I sank into her kiss and sent my hand down her belly, savoring the dips and hollows of her curves until I reached her waistband.

  “This is up to you,” I reminded her in the softest voice I could manage.

  “Teach me.” She placed her own hand on top of mine and then guided me under that fabric, and then the soft lace of her thong. Holy shit, the woman wore garters and thongs. I wasn’t just fucked, I was royally, completely fucked.

  “Take whatever you want,” she whispered in my ear as she slipped her hand free, then sucked on my lobe gently.

  I shuddered at the simple caress. “I’m not taking. I’m giving,” I promised.

  Then I braced my weight carefully on my elbow, rolling slightly to the side, and kissed her senseless while my fingers trailed down, down, and found her wet and slick.

  “Fuck,” I growled. “Persephone.” She was ready. So fucking ready. My cock pulsed in time with my he
artbeat as I parted her, then slid my finger from her pussy to her clit.

  She cried out, gripping my neck and my arm, her eyes flying to mine. “Again,” she demanded. “Do it again.”

  So I did. I circled her clit and teased every nerve ending until she swelled beneath my fingers, and she soaked the fabric of her thong. Her hips rose and fell with my touch, trying to gain enough control to ride my hand. I gave her a touch then backed away, barely brushing her clit, then retreated as she started to writhe beneath me. Pure fucking fire.

  “Cannon! Touch me!” she shouted.

  “I am touching you.” I swirled two fingers around her opening, then dragged them up and around her clit. I could play this woman all goddamn night and never get bored. Fuck that, I could play her body for the rest of my life.

  “You know what I mean!” She kissed me, and I nearly gave in as her tongue worked over mine. Her hips bucked under my hand, and I flicked her clit once. She cried out again.

  “Tell me why you bought me.” I kissed the edge of her mouth. “Tell me why you didn’t send me out with someone else.”

  Her eyes locked on mine, fierce and wild. Then she softened. “Because I wanted you, damn it! Because I didn’t want you to fuck another woman. I wanted you to fuck me, and it was the closest—”

  I pressed down on her clit as satisfaction roared through my veins. She’d wanted me. Not the hotshot, douchebag banker. Me.

  She moaned, loud and long as I stroked her over and over. “Yes. God, yes. More. Cannon, more.”

  If she ever realized the power she held over me every time she said my name like that, I’d be done for. I circled her pussy, and slid one finger in slowly.

  “Is that what you want?” I asked, sucking at that spot on her neck.

  “Yes!” she shouted.

  She was so fucking tight, her muscles constricting around that one finger. Virgin, I reminded myself, and slowed even more, stroking her walls as I began to pump her slowly while my thumb worked her clit. When she started to ride that finger, I nearly came in my fucking pants like a teenager. Her sensuality was off the charts. How could she ever believe she was cold?