Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“Yeah.” I drop my forehead to hers. “That’s it, baby.”
Her muscles flutter around me, and I go still to give her a chance to catch her breath. She’s in a daze, lost to everything.
“Let’s try something different.”
Her eyes snap open, lips curving into a smirk. “Like what?”
Instead of answering, I pull out and flip her onto her stomach. She lets out a sound of surprise until I guide her up onto her knees and spread her open from behind. I look down at Winnie like this—her neck twisted and longing on her face—and I have to take a second to breathe through a sudden burst of raw need and lust that makes me feel like I’m losing control.
“Tell me if this is too much,” I say, voice rough with need.
She’s not scared or put off, and in fact, she leans her ass toward me. It’s all the invitation I need.
I line myself up again and push in, slow but steady. Her body welcomes me again, eager and ready. My grip tightens on her hips.
“God, Winnie…” I grunt as the pressure inside me increases.
She pushes back into me with a hungry sound that threatens my sanity.
“Be patient,” I murmur, then smooth my hand up her back, over her spine. She gives a soft sigh just before I wrap her hair around my fist and pull her head back gently. Her back bows, tilting her hips perfectly for me.
I snap my hips forward.
We both grunt.
I do it again. Harder.
Winnie braces against the headboard, hand flat against the wood, meeting me every time I drive into her, and my head spins.
“That’s it,” I groan. “Hold on, baby… I’m gonna make this sweet body mine.”
Her words hit the air like a spark. “Please, please, please…”
I don’t let up. Her name pours out of me between strokes, her body tight and pulsing, drawing me deeper.
“You feel…” I grit out, “like you were made for me.”
She gasps, laughing through a moan. “You say the sweetest things.”
“I’ve got plenty more,” I promise—and then I give her everything.
The sounds between us will replay in my memory over and over again. I’ll use them to get off when I’m alone, thinking about her… this.
Moans, skin, breath, movement and rhythm. Pure, primal connection.
“I think… maybe…” Her words cut off as I slam into her.
“What do you think?” I demand, fingers digging into her hips.
“I think… I’m gonna come again,” she moans, almost in disbelief.
That’s all I need. I reach around, find her clit, and give the gentlest pinch.
Winnie breaks apart, my name echoing off the walls as she shudders through her strongest orgasm yet. I get that part of it is pride in what I’ve done to her and part of it is that she feels so fucking good, but I hurtle over the edge. I pull her tight to me and surge deep, grinding into her as I come.
It’s a rush, overwhelming and perfect.
“Fuck… Winnie,” I groan into her neck. “Just… fuck.”
We collapse to the mattress, my cock still buried inside her and our sweaty bodies pressed together. My heartbeat races out of control and I need a minute.
Or forever.
I wrap my arms around her, not ready to let go.
“That was perfect,” she murmurs sleepily.
“Yes, it was.”
CHAPTER 28
Winnie
The Rustwood Room glows like a vintage postcard and my excitement for tonight is unmatched. Granted, the highlight of the night will be a surprise proposal but that’s not the only thing that has me bouncing in my skin the way Buttermilk hops around the house.
It’s hard to describe, but something changed between me and Lucky the night before last. Starting with the most epically romantic date in the owner’s suite at the arena to the sex that gave me a transcendental, out-of-body experience. For the first time, I feel completely comfortable in his world. We’re meeting his teammates—friends, really—and I’ve been invited to join the celebration of a newly engaged couple. I don’t feel nervous or out of place among them, and I’ve never felt more secure by Lucky’s side.
We step into the Rustwood, hand in hand. It’s all low lights and dark wood, exposed beams and cozy booths tucked into shadowy corners. The kind of place where stories get told, where slow jazz used to play before a renovation made room for open mic nights and whiskey flights. Tonight, Edison lights hang overhead, and the small circular stage is set with two mic stands and two stools. Around the stage are groupings of velvet-covered couches and deep chairs. It smells like old leather, good bourbon and something sweet from the kitchen.
While we’ll hear some amazing music, this is the night Foster proposes to Mazzy, and I’m giddy to witness it. I never expected my pragmatic self to devolve into a closet romantic, but there you have it.
The entire team wasn’t invited, only Foster’s closest mates, and they’re all sitting in a grouping of couches and chairs near the stage. Penn and Mila sit at the far end of a couch with Atlas next to them, nursing a drink and looking tired but present. Farren and North wave us over to a set of chairs around a low table, already settled in with King and Willa, who look blissfully tipsy. Tempe’s back in from college for the weekend, and she’s sitting in Rafferty’s lap, his arms wound possessively around her.