I find her clit with my fingers, brushing over it. She sucks in a shaky breath and her chin lifts. “Yes…”
I want her to come again. I want her to come on my cock, I want to feel her orgasm all around me. And she does, crying out, shuddering, squeezing me so tight. Now I do lose it. With a shout, I release her legs and stretch out over her to pound into her. She grips my shoulders, still making soft little sex noises and we come together, fiery sensation ripping through me and exploding.
A while later, maybe a few hours, I don’t even know, I lift my head to peer down at her.
“You better not accuse me of making you do that against your will.”
I choke on a laugh. “Ah, no. I was completely willing.” I smile. “So were you.”
“Yeah. Thank you for asking.”
“Of course.” I frown. Nobody’s ever thanked me for asking before. Hell, you have to make sure the woman wants it or it’s not gonna be good for her. “Will you sleep in my bed tonight?”
“I think I have to, since I’m pretty sure I can’t walk downstairs.”
I grin. “That good, huh?”
“Oh yeah.” She drowsily turns her face to mine and kisses me.
“Maybe we should shower before we go to bed. So we don’t smell like the hot tub.”
“Mmkay. You’ll have to hold me up, though.”
“I can do that.” Christ, I can’t wait to get her in the shower, all soapy and naked, my hands all over her. Better take it easy on her, though.
“Also just so you know, this shower isn’t going anywhere. I mean, sex-wise.”
“Uh…”
“ ’Cause sex in the shower doesn’t really work. Water does not work as lube. Nope. It just washes away all my girl lube.”
Jesus. “Um, yeah, I’m aware of that.”
“ ’Kay, good.”
I roll off the lounge chair to turn out the lights of the hot tub and flip the cover over it, then pull Lacey up from the chaise. She lets out a squeal when I bend and pick her up in my arms. “Show off.”
“What am I showing off?”
“How strong you are.”
I pull open a door and stride into my bedroom.
“You lifted me right out of the hot tub,” she adds. “How do you stay in such good shape if you don’t play hockey anymore?”
“I work out. And I still play hockey sometimes. Just for fun.”
“Hmm.”
I set her on her feet on the tile floor of my bathroom and open the shower door. It’s a huge shower, and there’s even a bench. Once I get the water going and it’s hot, I lead Lacey into the shower, close the door, and gently push her down onto the bench.
“This is beautiful.” Her voice is still slurred a bit.
“Yeah, I like this shower.” I grab one of the showerheads, the one that’s also hand held, and direct the warm spray onto Lacey.
“I was really just joking.” She smiles. “I can stand up.”
“Relax.” I replace the showerhead, grab a bottle of body wash, and squeeze out a generous amount. “I’m dying to do this.”
“Mmm. Go ahead. Play with my soapy boobs.”
I choke. “Thanks.”
“Obviously, they feel amazing, I know. Go ahead and feel me up.” She leans her head back and her smile goes sultry.
Christ. She fucking kills me.
I run my hands over her shoulders and down her arms, taking my time so I can enjoy the feel of her. I glide back up, down her chest, over her tits. Yeah, she’s right—nothing feels better than slick, soapy breasts with hard little nipples. I mold and squeeze them, then continue my path of washing her, all the way down to her feet, then back up to the juncture of her thighs. I ease them apart and gently slide my hand between them, over her soft, swollen pussy.
She makes a sound that’s half moan, half sigh. My fingers slip and probe but I don’t do more than that before I pull her to stand, turn her, and wash her back from the nape of her neck, which I can’t resist kissing, down over the curve of her spine, the swell of her delectable ass cheeks and the backs of her legs. I linger on her thighs and knees when she quivers, filing that response away for another time.
Then I rinse her off and let her sit again while I stand beneath the other showerhead and wash myself while she watches. That’s hot as hell, her eyes following my hands over my chest and abs, down to my junk, soaping up my balls. Pretty sure she thinks it’s hot too, so I turn in a circle to rinse myself off, giving her the full view.
When you’re used to showering with a bunch of guys nearly every day, walking around naked in the locker room, any self-consciousness about your body is long gone.
I crank off the water, smiling at the languorous, lusty look on Lacey’s face. I’m glad she’s relaxed enough to sit there naked and let me watch her too as she observes me.
Thick towels hang on the wall just outside the shower and I pluck one off the hook to gently dry Lacey, then wrap it around her. I tuck the corner between her breasts as she reaches up and pulls her hair tie out. Her thick, wavy hair tumbles down around her shoulders in masses of gold and honey and caramel brown.
“Oh yeah.” I groan. “Love that hair.”
Her smile turns seductive. “I remember. The hair fetish.”
“Yeah.” I reach for another towel.
She moves closer and traces a finger down between my pecs. “Tell me what you want to do with my hair.”
Chapter 17
Lacey
Théo is so damn sexy I could just about explode with wanting him.
I’ve never felt so cared for…so…cherished.
Reaching for my hair, he lets out a groan. “This.” He slides his hand into it and twists, wrapping his hand and tugging.
My eyelids feel weighed down. Thick liquid heat slides down through me, converging between my legs.
He uses my hair to pull me closer and touches his lips to mine. “I want to feel your hair on my thighs when you have your mouth on my cock.”
I inhale sharply, my inner muscles squeezing.
“And on my stomach.” He brushed his mouth over mine again. “And wrapped around my cock.”
The images are making my inner muscles squeeze tight. “That sounds very dirty.”
“Oh yeah. I have a lot of dirty thoughts about you.”
“Did one of them involve sex in a hot tub?”
“As soon as we got here, it did.”
I smile and melt against him. He pulls my hair again, tugging my head back to expose my throat. I close my eyes as he slides his tongue over the hollow of my throat, around my neck, and sucks gently on my skin.
“God…” Desire swirls inside me, my pussy aching, my clit pulsing.
He releases his grip on my hair, but his hand stays there and the other joins it, holding my head as he tilts it and kisses me…long and deep and wet. Then he turns me and nudges me into the bedroom and toward the bed.
“Are we going to sleep?” I ask.
“Not yet.”
“Good.”
He’s turned me on so much with his words and his touch, I’m practically vibrating. A few minutes ago I’d been ready to crash I was so satiated and limp from two wrenching orgasms, but I guess I’m greedy because I want another one.
But first I want to act out his fantasies.
I drop my towel and climb onto the bed to wait for him. His towel hits the floor also. Sweet Jesus on a pita, he’s beautiful. I’ve never been into guys with huge, bodybuilder muscles, and I find him so attractive—lean, ripped, definitely with muscles in his arms, shoulders, and legs, but not massive. “I want to lick your abs.”
“Go right ahead.”
“Come lay down here.”
He stretches out on his b
ack on the bed, and my mouth is literally watering. I sweep my hands over his chest, moving to kneel beside him. Then I bend my head and kiss the muscles on his chest…softly, moving over his body until I reach a nipple. I lick him there and give his nipple a quick suck, not sure how he’ll react. Some guys like it, some hate it.
He groans and his fingers curl into the duvet.
I move to the other one and suck it too, then kiss my way down his body. Yes, I lick his abs, running my tongue over the ridges, around his navel, then to the tender skin below that. He’s taut here too, but obviously sensitive as the muscles quiver at my touch. He makes another low sound of desire.
I’m so close now to his cock, his lovely, thick cock. I lay kisses in the crease of his groin, spreading my hands on his thighs. His hair is silky-rough, the muscles hard. I rub my palms over him, savoring the sensation, then teasingly I skim my hands lower, to his knees, then the insides of his thighs.
“Christ, Lacey.” His voice is strained.
His cock is on his belly, stiff, flushed, and dripping, the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
I torment him more by gently scraping my fingernails up his inner thighs. His legs part for me and he’s nearly panting. I brush my fingers over his balls, then dance them over his hips.
“Do it,” he begs. “Touch me.”
“I will.” I bend over to kiss his thigh, then slip my fingers under his balls and gently squeeze. His groan encourages me, so I bury my face in his groin again to kiss him there, breathing in his scent. We just showered, and he smells clean and spicy, overlaid with a hint of arousal.
I love the feel of him, so full and tight. I want more.
I curl my other hand around his shaft and he emits another guttural sound. I stroke him, watching my hand move on him with fascination. So damn beautiful…so male and vigorous.
I want to taste him too. I open my mouth and close my lips over the tip. His hand is on my lower back now, caressing me there, down to my ass, so I lift it up a bit and there…he slips his fingers into my pussy from behind as I suck on him.
“Fuck yeah.”
I let my hair fall all down around him, dragging it back and forth as I move on him. I cup his balls, run my lips up and down his shaft, pausing to lick around the head, then going back down.
“That’s fucking amazing,” he groans. “Your mouth…lick my balls, baby.”
“Mmm.” I do that, even sucking on them, my hand taking over for my mouth on his cock, sliding up and down.
His fingers in my slick pussy are distracting me, especially when they flick over my clit, which is straining for attention.
“You’re so wet,” he says, pushing a finger inside me. “Love that.”
“God, I love it too.” I lift my head for a moment, eyes closed, reveling in the sensation his touch evokes in me, heat spiraling through me. Then my entire body jolts as he brushes his wet fingers over my back entrance.
It feels shockingly good, but I’ve never done that and I jerk upright.
“No?” He pets my pussy. “Sorry, baby.”
“No, no, it’s okay…I just…I’ve seen your rodzilla and there’s no way that’s going in my butt.”
He choke-laughs. “Okay. We’ll save that.”
I suck briefly on my bottom lip and nod, meeting his eyes. Our gazes lock in a blast of heat that sears me right to my core. I can’t look away. At this moment I think I’d do anything for this man. With this man. Even butt sex. “Okay.”
I take him in my mouth again, loving the feel of him, so solid and warm and pulsing. I love how much he loves this, the noises he makes, the way he gathers up my hair and holds it at the back of my head.
“Love the feel of your hair,” he says. “But I want to see you sucking me…fuck, that’s so good. I’m close…”
“Mmmm.” I want all of him and it’s only a moment before he comes, his singular taste on my tongue, and I swallow it down. And want more. I give him a moment and then slowly slide off him, swirling my tongue around the head, then licking my lips.
“Jesus.” He releases my hair and I slide up beside him and sprawl on the bed facedown. My jaw aches a bit and I’m still drained from my own orgasms. His hand lands on my lower back and stays there, warm and heavy, the weight comforting.
A while later, through a drowsy haze, I feel him shifting me and moving the covers to pull them up and over me, then snuggling me, his body curved around mine.
* * *
—
I vaguely hear Théo get up in the morning, showering and dressing for work. I shove my hair out of my face and try to sit up. Théo bends over and kisses my forehead. “Stay in bed, if you want.”
There’s nothing I love more than staying in bed in the morning. Well, now that I know what sex with Théo is like, staying in bed comes second. If he stayed with me though, it would be heaven on earth. So I flop back down, pull the covers up to my chin, and close my eyes.
“See you later, sweetheart.” He passes a hand over my hair.
I smile. “ ’Kay.”
Moments later I hear him leaving the house, his car starting and then pulling away.
I sigh. This bed is lovely…luxuriously soft yet supportive, with silky sheets and pillows that smell like Théo. I roll over and breathe in the scent of him.
For a while I hover between sleep and wakefulness, delicious sex dreams floating through my mind. Wow.
I could lie here all day like this.
Except…as I become more alert, my eyes opening to stare at the ceiling, the fact that Théo has left the house because he has a job to go to makes me feel…useless. I haven’t been unemployed since I was fifteen.
Feeling like a slug, I throw back the covers and slide out of bed. I’m naked, but I’m home alone, so I pad downstairs to shower and get dressed. I feel my thigh muscles as I walk, which is a reminder of last night’s activities and how hot they were. And I get a little hot again, thinking about that.
I spend the day walking on the beach, wandering the neighborhood, and playing with Byron when Taylor gets home from work. I eat a solitary dinner, as Théo texts me he’s working late. And the next day is much the same.
Wednesday morning, I sit at the kitchen table with my phone and a cup of coffee, scrolling through social media and news sites. A text message notification pops up and I tap it. It’s from Théo’s mom.
Hi Lacey! Théo gave me your number, I hope you don’t mind. I was wondering if you’d have lunch with me today?
Eep. My eyes pop wide open. I sit back in the chair. Well, it’s not like my schedule is already full. I can’t even think of an excuse to make. So, what the heck. I send her back a message saying I’d love to.
She says she’ll pick me up, since she knows I have no car. That has to change. And I need to find a job. Even if I’m only going to be here a short time, I need to do something. To be productive. I’ll figure it out.
Since I have time, I go for another walk on the beach, letting the wind dry my hair, inhaling fresh sea air. There’s something so calming and centering about the ocean. When I’m almost back at Théo’s place, I plant my butt in the soft pale sand near the lifeguard stand, wrap my arms around my legs, and stare at the water.
Théo and I have slept together every night, and it’s amazing. I just wish I saw him more out of bed. Or maybe…I just need something more to occupy my time.
I knew we were going to do the deed at some point. We’d both admitted we were attracted to each other, and the sparks between us were only increasing even though he’d said we shouldn’t get involved that way. I hope he’s not angry about it. I don’t think I pushed him into it. But I was definitely willing.
I smile, resting my chin on my knees. Oh yeah, I was willing. And I’m willing to do it again. And again.
Se
eing him with his family over the weekend only intensified the attraction. It made me feel…protective of him, which is weird. But also admiring. He was calm and unwavering in the face of criticism about taking this job. He kept a sense of humor despite the tension that buzzed the entire evening. He’s so smart and knowledgeable about what he does, his family—even the older generations who’ve been in the hockey world a lot longer than he has—listened to his every word.
That all made me want him even more. And when we had sex…it was more intense than I’d expected.
I shake my head and stand, brushing sand off my shorts. I better get ready for lunch.
I change into a sundress and flip-flops, hoping this is appropriate. I use some product on my hair to tame the frizz—it dried into nice waves, but it’s a little wild.
Aline Gagnon rings the doorbell this time, instead of just walking in. I smile as I answer the door, remembering that. “Hi. Come in.”
“Hi, Lacey. You look so pretty. What a cute dress.”
“Thanks. I just need to grab my purse and I’m ready to go.”
“Perfect.”
Soon we’re driving along Pacific Avenue, with the top of Aline’s little BMW convertible down, the sun on our faces and the wind in our hair.
“What a lovely day,” Aline says, big sunglasses perched on her nose.
“It really is. I love Las Vegas, but I’m enjoying the ocean and the cooler temperatures.”
She’s a confident driver. She pulls up at a big hotel right on the beach and lets a valet take her car. I’m a little in awe of her ease with this, and follow her into the elegant lobby.
“We’ll go to the café here,” she says. “It’s more casual.”
I hope that’s not because I’m not dressed right for the other restaurant.
Even the café is lovely. We’re shown out onto a patio overlooking the beach, with glass panels blocking the breezes. Big potted palms fill the spaces between wicker tables and chairs with comfortable striped blue cushions. From here we can see people walking and running on the boardwalk and the Ferris wheel of the Santa Monica Pier.
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