Her blond curls are pulled atop her head in a high ponytail—it’s hot in a sexy schoolgirl way. Surveying all the candles I lit throughout the living room, she turns to me.
“Someone went all out.” She tips her head to the side. Serena is assessing me, sizing me up. I should expect it by now.
“The power has been flickering.” It’s my self-preservation response. I can’t tell her that I lit them to impress her. This is sex, right? Not a relationship. I established that, though I probably should have told her.
Why didn’t I? Could it be that I don’t believe it any more than she would? Serena has a way of cutting through all the bullshit. She easily sees through me. I’m certain of it.
Her hand rests on the sash at her waist. “It seems fine now.”
She knows I’m lying. Or deflecting. Even I don’t know which. I shove the dripping wet umbrella in the stand beside the door. “Yeah. It does.”
Standing with her legs apart, watching me, her azure gaze sparkles, reflecting the flickering candlelight. “You haven’t kissed me yet. Aren’t you glad to see me?”
My hands twitch. Why am I suddenly so nervous? I’ve thought about her all day. About kissing her, undressing her, fucking her over and over again. But here I am, clueless, unable to find the words. Like when we first met. So much has happened since then. It feels like ages ago.
Serena walks toward me and claims my mouth with hers. It’s a sensual kiss that drives me crazy, especially when her tongue strokes mine, and when she melds her body against mine. My shirt clings to me, wet from her bulky raincoat, the same bulky raincoat I need to remove.
I fumble to untie the sash, then work on the buttons. Her kisses trace a path over my beard, to my earlobe. When I shove her coat from her shoulders and toss it on the floor, she nips my earlobe with her teeth, whispering, “I’m your biggest fan, Christian.”
Taking a few steps backward, she twirls a curl from her ponytail, and my breath hitches in my throat. Serena is wearing my jersey—the red Nighthawks home jersey. And she rocks it. Tall, with great legs, and an hourglass figure that puts models to shame, Serena could probably make a burlap sack look hot.
“Chris,” I manage. One word. Gruff, raw. That’s a first, as is the desperation I feel to hold her, to kiss her. “Call me Chris.”
Only my good friends call me Chris, and my family. “My mom called me Chris.” Jesus Christ, did I just compare her to my mom? “I didn’t—”
“Shush.” She places her finger over my lips. “I get it. It’s special. And you’re as nervous as I am.”
She’s half right. I’m fifty percent nervous and fifty percent so into her that I want to fuck her against the nearest wall.
Serena laces her hands with mine and nuzzles her nose against my neck. She then brings my hands behind her, placing them under the jersey, splaying my palms against her ass. Her bare ass. I moan, squeezing her cheeks. Soft and supple, they fit in my palms like she was made for me. God damn. My adrenaline spikes and rushes straight to my cock. She feels like heaven. An erotic heaven that makes me think naughty thoughts. After grazing her lower back, I trace a path up her spine. She shudders beneath my fingertips…or maybe it was me.
Yeah, my hands are actually twitching. She feels like nothing I’ve ever known and, besides my jersey, she’s wearing nothing. I long to explore every inch of her. Even more urgently, I want to see what she looks like naked.
“What are you waiting for?” she whispers. “Don’t you want a peek?”
This woman is fucking fearless. In spite of everything she told me about her first kiss and about her weight issues, she is encouraging me to look at her in the most intimate way possible. I am the luckiest bastard ever.
Lowering my head, I kiss the sensitive spot at the nape of her neck. Nuzzling, inhaling her scent. She’s wearing my favorite perfume tonight. It mingles with the new-fabric scent of her jersey. She must have just purchased it.
Anticipation, powerful and all-consuming, has taken hold of me. Still, I want Serena to be in control of this moment. Somehow, I know it’s important to her. She needs to take off the jersey. “Show me.”
I know we’re in my foyer. But it’s private. Fuck, I’m being impatient. I change my mind, deciding to offer my bedroom. “Do you want to—”
“Close your eyes.”
I follow her command without hesitation, and groan when she steps out of my reach.
“It will be worth it. I hope.” Her voice trembles.
“No need to hope. It will be.” I want to caress her cheek, kiss her forehead, do something to make her feel better. “Trust me.” It’s all I can offer, without opening my eyes.
Serena exhales. A slow breath. “I trust you. Open your eyes.”
From the dark abyss, I do as she says to find Serena’s gaze locked with mine. She wears no anxiety. Just a reassuring grin that I return. I refuse to explore her body until I know she’s ready. “You sure?”
“You’d better hurry. I may get a better offer.” True to Serena, her sarcasm is ever present.
My eyes trail from her face to her full breasts, with nipples erect under my intense gaze, then down farther to her hourglass waist, then lower still. I’ve seen this, sort of. But not like this. Not with her offering herself to me. “You are beautiful.”
“And you are clothed.” She bridges the distance between us, unbuttoning my shirt as she looks me straight in the eye with the intensity of a champion. “No foreplay. Nothing to be nervous about. I’m clean. You’re clean. We’ve got protection.”
I nod. “Yeah. In my pocket.”
“I’ve got some in my bag, too. You want to sink a goal, Chris?” It is the lamest line I have ever heard, though I respond by kissing her hard, my tongue as deep in her mouth as it can get. Stroking hers with a force I haven’t felt in a long time, if ever, as my palms explore every inch of her.
This assertive sexpot–hockey tart thing she’s got going on is a total turn-on, as is the fact that she wants no foreplay. The last thing I want is to prolong this. I’m already lit like a freaking hockey stadium during the finals. Bright LEDs and anticipation. I’m high on the anticipation. Yeah, I’m ready to sink a goal. I’m a boss. A hockey god. And this woman is the closest thing to a goddess I’ve ever met. Screw the models I’ve dated. They’ve got nothing on Serena.
She reaches for my belt. I was about to offer her my bedroom when she told me to open my eyes. I won’t suggest it again. We’re private. What the fuck do I care if we do it in my foyer or if I fuck her in my kitchen? I’ll fuck her again after this, and again. Hell, I’m aiming for a hat trick tonight.
Serena unzips my pants. I’m commando again, and she drops my trousers, stroking my cock in long, slow strokes before fondling my head. I throb under her dexterous teasing. A grunt escapes my throat. Low, guttural. Total Neanderthal of me.
I want her. Even more when she places one leg around mine and tugs me closer, stroking lower, then lower still, until she cups my balls in her hands. Swallowing hard, I taste expectation mingled with desire, and savor it. No foreplay. It was her request. I’m more than happy to oblige as I lift her around my waist and pin her against the wall.
With her audible moans as encouragement, I flick her clit with my fingers. I’ve never felt such smooth pussy. She’s also moist, and when I stick my forefinger in her sex, she arches her back. “God, Chris.” It’s a raspy murmur, one I can barely hear, as she gasps and her muscles tense. She wants me. She’s wet for me. She’s warm. She needs me. So much that she grinds against my finger until I think I’ll die if I don’t fuck her.
Since I’m fast on the ice, and powerful, they chose Cyclone as my nickname. They were wrong. Because with Serena writhing against me, wet for me, making the noises that mean I am arousing her, there is a beast inside of me. A beast who wants to fuck her so hard, so deep, that she will never want anyone else ag
ain. A beast that needs to brand her as mine.
I’m not refined. The clothes, the house, the cars…they’re all mirages to hide my past. Deep within, I’m still a guy from the sticks with lots to prove. Right now, I want to prove I’m the only man Serena needs. It’s taking all of my self-control not to fuck her so hard, so rough, so dirty, that she won’t even recognize me.
“Do it.” She bunches the fabric at my shoulders with her fist. “Fuck me, Chris.”
Women have asked for it before, but this is different. Because there is no way in hell that Serena has ever demanded this from another man. I’m her first. Her first real, honest-to-God fuck. I know it, just like I know that I’m going to make her scream from euphoria before this night is through.
I slide my fingers out, then raise them to my lips. I suck on them, her familiar taste heightening my hunger for her. Her sigh hitches in her throat, her breath quickening as I slowly savor her. I then trace her lips with my tongue and probe for access, which she quickly grants. I stroke her tongue with mine, exploring all of the crevices of her mouth. Memorizing every sensation as she grips me tighter, moans louder, thrusts her own tongue deeper.
Her hands travel from my shoulders to my neck, then back again. Kneading, clutching, fisting the fabric of my shirt, I doubt she’s ever been this uninhibited with any man. That’s what makes me deepen my kiss, thrusting my tongue, igniting her desire. Just like me, she wants more. I’m the only one to give it to her.
Withdrawing my tongue, I reach for the condom wrapper and rip it open. She smiles a seductive smile. One that nearly makes my knees buckle. This has never happened before. She must have noticed, because she takes the wrapper from my hand and licks my fingers. The same fingers that were inside of her. My hands no longer shake. Instead, my body is jolted to the here and now. To the fact that I need to fuck this woman. When she withdraws her mouth, she hands the wrapper back to me and I unroll the condom over my cock before thrusting deep inside her. “Is this what you want?”
With a breathless sigh, she moans, “Yes.”
In and out, my thrusts heighten her desire, preparing her for what’s to come. Her walls tighten around my dick, molding to me like I’m the perfect fit. I can tell that she isn’t very experienced, which makes that beast inside of me want her even more. I fuck her deeper, as she tightens even more around my cock, as she becomes wetter, as she clutches me until her nails dig into my shoulders through the fabric of my shirt. She rides me, her wave of lust and desperation for a climax at an all-time high.
Serena’s ragged panting is all I need. So, I fuck her like I have never fucked a woman before. There’s no time to worry about why she is so different; Serena just is. I’m giving her what we both want. Deeper, harder, faster, I delve into her. Her lips swell against my pubic hair from my hard thrusts. Just when I wonder if I’m being too rough, she adjusts, sliding me deeper still, until I swear I’ve never been so deep inside anyone.
It’s as if Serena and I are one. She’s tightened around my cock so forcefully that it’s difficult for me to breathe. I swallow, the taste of her still on my tongue. I’m parched, my throat dry as ash, craving more new sensations like this. I’m now in unchartered territory. Because sex has never been this intense for me.
Beads of sweat begin to travel down my spine, pooling at my lower back. Our grunts and moans fill the hall, as does the sound of my balls slapping against her thighs. As her core continues to constrict around my cock, the pressure within me rises. Then she clamps her legs around my waist as an orgasm rips through me like a cyclone, makes me feel like I’m on the highest ledge, makes me fuck her even harder because I don’t want this to stop. I know she’s feeling it too. It’s in her guttural groans, the arch of her back, the hitches in her throat as I thrust deeper still. I’m about to combust as I kiss her hard, until my need to scream has subsided, until my muscles constrict.
This was the best fuck of my life, which says a lot. Judging by the look of awe in her eyes, now the shade of a fathomless ocean, odds are in my favor that she feels the same. Serena wraps both arms around my neck with my cock still inside of her. I don’t want to pull out. Not yet. Breathless, I carry her to my bedroom, where I kiss her, then lay her atop the bed. Discarding the condom, I return my attention to Serena. First I lick one leg…then the other. Slowly, I explore her flesh, savoring her salty skin, drinking in all of her essence as my tongue, and lips, and teeth kiss, and nip, and suck. Until I’ve joined her on the mattress.
I can’t let her go. Or won’t. I don’t know which, nor do I question it. Instead, I undo her messy ponytail and thread my fingers through her hair as I reclaim her mouth. With each kiss, with each stroke of our tongues, with each contented sigh, I know I’m in trouble.
This was more than a fuck. I suspected going into it that it would be more but ignored those feelings. Now I’m in over my head. Because there’s no way in hell that I’m letting Serena slip through my fingers. Not after what we just shared.
Chapter 8
Serena
Chris gave me one hell of a striptease before wrapping me in his warm embrace. Though his bedding is masculine in color, a rich hunter green that brings out the flecks in his eyes, it’s soft and luxurious. A complete contradiction to his scratchy hair and beard.
We lie atop the luxe fabrics and, for the first time, all of his planes and contours are mine to explore. I can’t stop myself. He lit candles in here, too, which is endearing and utterly romantic. Power surge, my ass. This guy lit candles for me and I’m going to use their light to survey every sexy inch of him.
“You were bold tonight.” He kisses my hair. He seems to like combing his fingers through my tresses.
I snuggle against his chest, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. “I have a confession.”
He pulls away, tilting my chin up. “I’m listening.”
“My cheeks are flushed, aren’t they?” I can feel the warmth that floods me at the mere mention of how fearless I was tonight. That’s not me. I’m not very experienced. I’m not a sexual dynamo. But Chris is. I knew it, and it scared the hell out of me.
Smiling, he prompts, “Tell me.”
“I didn’t want to lose my nerve. I took my underwear off in my car. I thought you caught me when you came to my driver’s door.” I bury my face in my hands. “This is so embarrassing.”
Chris brushes my curls away from my face, and I meet his eyes, which are shining with a startling intensity in the dim light. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Seeing you in my jersey was sexy as hell. Then, when I grabbed your bare ass…” He slaps my butt. “That was a fantasy come true.”
His fingertips explore my curves. First up my ass, to the nook of my back. Then to my waist and up, past my ribs, to my breast. Chris cups my right breast like it belongs to him. Hell, like I belong to him. Which I do, though he doesn’t know it. Not yet. Maybe never.
“You don’t fantasize about women like me.” I thought it, and the words just tumbled out of my mouth. Way to kill the afterglow.
Flicking my nipple with his thumb, Chris’s smoky gaze holds mine. “Ever since I spilled blue ice all over your sexy white tank, all I do is fantasize about you. It’s distracting and drives me crazy.”
Chiseled, rock hard, and sexier than any man has a right to be, this Adonis is turned on by me. Why am I questioning this? Because other men haven’t felt the same? Well, screw them. I’m smart, strong, and beautiful. I’m finally having sex with a man who sees me for who and what I really am. And what sex it was! Hotter than I ever imagined. Euphoric. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced. So, I’m not questioning this. Not anymore.
Instead I play along. “What can I do to make you feel better?” I straddle him, kissing his pecs, licking his six-pack.
“That’s helping,” Chris teases, brushing my curls behind my ears. “I need more, though. Like here…”
He points to different spots, and I kiss and lick each one, nibbling with my teeth until he shudders. Until he gasps. Until his every muscle twitches beneath my mouth and hands. Until we’re face-to-face, my lips hovering over his.
“You know where this is going, right?” A smirk tugs at his full lips as I nod. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He kisses me with the same hunger as before, all but devouring me as he makes love to me again. I undulate on top of him, riding him the entire time. Yes, we’re using protection, but I feel far from safe. In fact, I’m more vulnerable now than before. Because when I arrived here tonight, I thought the worse-case scenario would be another incredible orgasm or two. Then I could let go of whatever we have going on between us. Now, I don’t want to let it go. I’m attached. While it’s definitely not love, it is more than lust. So much more.
I’m invested. If he isn’t, can I still shake Chris off like I vowed I would? It’s doubtful when he slips inside me again, his hands clamping hard on my hips. The moisture between my thighs grows, as does my savage need for him as he slides his hands up, pinching my nipples, then rolling them between his fingers. Until they’re taut for him. Until I’m his again, undulating on his cock.
This time, he arches for me. No one has ever been as deep inside me as Chris. No one has ever been close. I cry out, wanting more. Mine has become an urgent need. I’ve experienced ecstasy with him. I don’t want to settle for anything less. Not ever again. I can’t go back to the emptiness that I felt before. I’m going take all I can from him, as long as he offers it.
I thrust and ride him hard, our flesh slick from lovemaking. This isn’t the sex I’m used to. We moan, we pant, we grunt; his flesh slaps against mine, his hands are rough, and his grip is strong. He kneads my breasts and I continue to undulate on top of him. This is dirty sex, the kind I only imagined. It is also intimate and exhilarating.
“Fuck me, Serena.” Chris’s voice is unrecognizable, veiled by the haze of passion and a mounting climax.
Ice Hot Page 9
