The Hat Trick Box Set

by Samantha Wayland

  Her next groan was louder still. Truer.

  She stared at him in the mirror, wide-eyed, denying her need to shout what she was feeling with frantic shakes of her head.

  “Why can’t you? Why can’t you scream it until the rafters shake?”

  Savannah gasped. “Because Rick is in the next room.”

  Garrick faltered, loosing coordination as realization sunk in.

  Savannah dropped her head between her outstretched arms and started to laugh, her entire body shaking. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder and joined her.

  Damn it, how had his plan had gone so terribly wrong?

  He met her sparkling green eyes in the mirror and his heart did something funny in his chest.

  “You are beautiful.”

  Her smile didn’t falter. “You are, too.”

  His looked in the mirror and he was the same as always, though maybe a little better. He looked really good wearing nothing but Savannah. But he couldn’t say that, could he? Couldn’t deny it. How could he refute her claim and expect her to believe his?

  He smiled at the clever woman in his arms and hoped this wasn’t the only time they’d play this game. He could win it eventually.

  “Thank you,” he said graciously, albeit gruffly.

  The laughter dancing in her eyes faded to something vaguer, hotter, when he resumed a slow stroke across her clit. She sucked a deep breath in through her nose. He stroked his fingers, still lodged inside her body, against the sensitive front wall of her channel, searching for the right spot.

  The flood of arousal and jerk of her hips told him when he found it.

  He moved his hand faster.

  “God, Garrick. Keep doing that.” Her hips kicked in little circles, her leg shaking against his thigh.

  He flicked his finger over her clit relentlessly, studying how she bit her lip harder, hard enough that he feared she’d draw blood. But he didn’t let up, dragging his fingers in and out of her channel, feeling the muscles in her legs and back tighten, until, with a shudder and choked-off cry, Savannah came.

  His cock ached with the need to thrust inside the rippling heat around his fingers, but he kept going until she slumped, her head hanging , her breath heaving in and out.

  He buried his face against her neck, matching his breaths to hers, trying to walk himself back from the ledge.

  “I don’t know how you’re going to do it,” he said, his voice rough after what felt like hours of need riding him hard.

  “What? Do what?” she whispered.

  “Keep quiet while we do this.” He eased back, pulling his fingers from her body and curling one hand around her hip instead.

  She gave a long, low groan. “I think I managed that pretty well.”

  “Yeah,” he murmured, his lips to her shoulder. His hand shook when he guided the head of his cock through the slick folds of her pussy. “But how about now?”

  He rolled his ships forward and his swollen, exquisitely sensitive crown nudged into her body.

  “Oh God. Oh God, Garrick.”

  Garrick was beyond words. He pushed deeper, his eyes bulging at the heat clenching around his cock. God, how he’d wanted this. Her. But it was more than he’d imagined.

  She suited him perfectly.

  Physically, though, the fit was a little tight.

  He couldn’t help the short, sharp thrusts, each taking farther. Christ, he fought for every inch. She pushed back against him, steadying them both with her hands on the mirror, canting her hips to make the angle work.

  Wide green eyes captured his in the mirror and he was lost. He wrapped his arm across her chest and curled a hand over her shoulder while his other hand returned to her clit.

  She didn’t look away. She was so strong, muscles taut and quivering in his arms, gaze hot and direct. He held her close and drove his hips forward, sinking into her to the hilt.

  The moment was shockingly intimate. Their gazes stayed locked together.

  He slowly withdrew, stopping when only the head of his cock remained clasped within her. Then he slammed all the way back in.

  Heaven.

  He did it again. And again. It felt unbelievable, tight and hot. Her green eyes seared him until on a particularly hard thrust, they fluttered shut.

  She tilted her hips, urging him deeper as she ground back against him. “Like that again. Please.”

  Sweat broke out over his entire body. Harder and faster were about the only speeds he had left, so that worked out fine. Within seconds, he was powering in and out of Savannah’s body, and she was rolling her hips back to meet his.

  Above the litany of muffled sounds from Savannah was the hard slap of bodies, the rasp of panting breaths. Garrick’s heart raced and his balls drew up tight and hard to his body.

  Fuck. He was close. Too close.

  He pinched her clit between his fingers and plucked it hard. She surged against him, so he did it again. And again. He fought to keep up with the twitch of her hips, rocking them together in a rhythm designed to blow off the top of his head.

  But not without her.

  Her eyes fluttered and when they opened, they were no longer looking at him, but lower. He followed her gaze to his hand dipped between her spread legs, the hint of movement behind.

  Holding her against his chest, he stood straighter. Not enough to unbalance them but enough so that when he lifted his hand away from her clit, they could both see his cock driving in and out of her.

  “Oh my god,” Savannah gasped.

  Her hips jerked, once, twice, then all those glorious muscles clamped down on his cock like she wanted to pull him into her tight wet heat and keep him there forever.

  With Savannah’s moan ringing in his ears, he thrust as deep as he could go and let the fire brewing in his balls consume him. His climax roared over his body, arching his spine and tearing a strangled howl from his lungs. His hips pumped uncontrollably against Savannah’s firm ass, bumping in tight circles until every ounce of his release had been yanked out of his soul.

  Chapter Eleven

  Savannah stared at the complete stranger in the mirror.

  Not Garrick. Indeed, he was becoming all too familiar. But the woman with wild hair, glassy eyes, flushed cheeks, and the strangest little smile on her lips? Savannah had never seen her before.

  She tore her eyes away from the confusing sight when Garrick gently eased out of her body. She couldn’t contain the whimper of loss. God, how she loved the ache of really good sex. Mind-blowing sex. He stumbled back, his legs as weak as hers, apparently.

  Another, far less sultry moan escaped her lips when she slid her leg off the dresser. Ouch. Worth it—holy shit had it been worth it—but she’d have to stretch out her hip for a week to recover enough to do something like that again.

  Not that there would be another night like tonight. There couldn’t be. But tonight had been…she was having a hard time coming up with anything other than amazing. She was also having a hard time reconciling the ache in her chest at the thought of him leaving.

  No, she shouldn’t ever do anything this stupid again, but she had, and she couldn’t treat it, or him, like some fuck-and-go one night stand.

  When he returned from cleaning up in the bathroom, stark naked and a damn vision to behold, she took a long look.

  Six and a half feet of hard muscle, thick cock, curly brown hair going in every direction on his head, eyes that had turned from amber to chocolate in the mirror.

  He stopped and smiled. She laughed.

  He can be smug. He’s got a right. And I’m still looking.

  If he was the least bit disconcerted by her inspection, it didn’t show. He did, though, shift his weight to the left. His tell.

  “How’s your hip?”

  He scowled. “Fine.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, yeah?”

  He sighed. “No, it’s sore. And not from sex. I will never be too old and broken for sex, goddamn it.”

  She held out her hand. “
Of course you won’t. I’m assuming it’s from your practice and conditioning today. No hot tub. Not enough ice?”

  He laced their fingers together and shrugged. “Probably.”

  “Definitely,” she said, towing him over to the bed. “Lie face down.”

  He gave her a long look before complying. She wondered if his thought process was careening between argue with the meddlesome trainer and agree with mostly naked woman asking me to her bed.

  While he folded down the sheets and got comfortable, she got completely naked. It wasn’t like the proverbial cat—or was that pussy?—wasn’t out of the bag.

  She grabbed lotion from her kit and climbed onto the bed to straddle Garrick. He lay still, resting a cheek on his folded arms, and peering at her over his shoulder. He didn’t ask what she was going to do, just let her perch naked on his gorgeous bare ass. She warmed some lotion in her palm then began working it into his back.

  By the time she got through his back, glutes, and thighs, he had his eyes screwed shut. The work on his hip likely hurt, a lot, but he kept quiet after promising her he’d tell her if she hurt him “too much”. In hockey, that generally meant dismemberment and nothing less, so she wasn’t surprised when he remained silent.

  She returned to his upper back and shoulders and methodically worked the lotion into his firm skin, smoothing her palms over the broad expanse of his warm muscles. The soothing motions quieted her own jangled nerves and, for a time, she didn’t worry about what she’d done that night.

  Garrick clearly wasn’t worried about it either. His slow, deep breathing was the first hint, but it wasn’t until he made a soft snoring sound that she was certain he’d fallen asleep.

  She stared down at his handsome profile.

  It had been a mistake, but she didn’t regret it. She couldn’t repeat it, but she could live with it.

  She only hoped he could live with going back to being her friend. Just her friend.

  Though even she had to admit it was a singularly unsatisfying thought.

  Savannah woke to a pitch dark room and couldn’t remember where she was.

  Cape Breton Island. Sydney Harbor.

  Garrick.

  He was curled around her back, his face buried against her neck, his arm under her head put to use as her pillow. His other arm curled around her ribs, his big hand splayed across her belly. He was warm. Close. She had the insane urge to cuddle deeper under the covers and purr.

  She should have tossed him out of her room hours ago. Hell, she shouldn’t have let him in to begin with. Crawling into bed and pulling the covers over them had only been one more questionable decision in an evening loaded with them, and she didn’t give a shit. She was enjoying it for the approximately six hours it was going to last.

  She snuggled into the wall of heat at her back and settled her ass more firmly in the cup of Garrick’s lap. His soft cock brushed her butt cheek, and his coarse leg hair tickled the backs of her thighs.

  Six whole hours to feel like a normal woman, with a normal man, sharing a bed.

  The only question was, why were they wasting their six hours sleeping?

  Easing away from Garrick, she lifted her head off his arm and carefully rolled over. He reached for her, tried to hold on, but she urged his arm back to his side.

  His breaths were steady as she slid under the covers and ran her hands along his ribs, his hip, gently nudging him to roll over. He was less than halfway there when she reached her goal and, without further ado, sucked his limp cock into her mouth.

  His breathing definitely changed then.

  “Oh my god, Savannah.”

  She smiled when he flopped fully onto his back. She slid her mouth over him, running her tongue under and around as his cock grew.

  She nuzzled the soft skin, pulled it with her lips, and let the edge of her teeth gently tug up under the crown. She loved giving head like this. From scratch, as she liked to think of it. To feel every physical manifestation of a man’s desire against her sensitive tongue and lips. To witness his control slip and eventually leave him all together. It was powerful. She wanted to give Garrick this gift, even as she took her own pleasure from it.

  Clearly, he was appreciating her gift quite a bit. His erection pressed against the roof of her mouth and stretched her lips. At six foot five inches and two hundred and thirty pounds without an ounce of fat on him, proportional was a very happy thing. Her jaw would ache tomorrow and she looked forward to it.

  She planted her hands on his thighs to still his thrashing legs. His hips twitched, practically vibrating in her hold. She didn’t stop her careful ministrations when he tossed the covers over the end of the bed, exposing her to the cool room air.

  She looked up at him, her lips a firm ring she dragged the length of his shaft.

  His stare in return was satisfyingly wild-eyed.

  “I had to look. To see…” His words drifted off.

  She sucked harder and bobbed her head in a steady rhythm. Blood surged into his shaft, widening her jaw, straining her lips, and she hummed around him.

  “Fuck!” He threw his head back onto the pillow, his hands fisting in the sheet.

  She drew off him, smiling as she licked her way down his shaft and carefully massaged his sac with her tongue. She kept it gentle, waiting to see his reaction.

  He drew up one leg to give her better access.

  Warmed by his trust, she coaxed his sac into her mouth. Her lips gently tugged and her tongue rolled his testicles against the roof of her mouth.

  Garrick lifted his other leg and spread himself wide.

  Unfettered access. What more could a girl want?

  Releasing his balls, she returned to the base of his cock and worked her way up until she could tease the divot under the head with the tip of her tongue. He’d lasted longer than most men would without forcing her to wrap a hand around him to guide him as she wished, but now his hips bucked without control and she curled her fingers around his thick shaft.

  God, it had felt good as he’d slowly worked his way into her body. He was big enough, and she’d been celibate long enough, that he’d had to take it slow. She’d felt every inch. The stretch had been amazing. But not as incredible as when he’d fucked her properly, how they’d crashed into one another, his hot voice in her ear telling her she was beautiful.

  And she’d felt beautiful. Like she could have done anything—screamed, yelled, beat her fist against the wall—and he would have been delighted with it.

  Rick, her boss, his coach, and the man just one thin hotel wall away, would not have been as thrilled. So they’d kept the noise as contained as they could manage, but the rest had been no holds barred.

  She’d done it wholeheartedly, she thought as she swirled her tongue around the head of his penis, enjoying his mumbled praise.

  Grace would be so proud. Too bad she was never going to tell her friend a damn thing about it. There would be no end to the haranguing about being with Garrick more than once, which was just not possible.

  She closed her eyes against a wish she wasn’t going to bother making and plunged down on Garrick, taking as much of him as she could into her mouth before retreating with a tremendous upward suck.

  He roared his approval so she did it again and again, stopping on the retreat to tease the frenulum, or tickle the tip of her tongue into the little hole. He definitely preferred the former, but she kept trading them off, dragging out the time until the inevitable conclusion.

  She wanted him to stagger out of her room on weak knees and with his eyes still mostly rolled back in his head. She couldn’t offer him anything more than this one night but, goddamn, she wanted it to be memorable.

  Her hand followed her lips up and down his shaft, twisting and tugging. His knuckles were white where they gripped the sheet. His breath rasped in and out of his lungs in gusts. She stroked the fingers of her free hand over his sac, finding it high and tight. When the cadence of his moan, the tenor of his voice when he said her name again w
as just a little higher, she gave his balls a firm tug.

  His moan was choked off and his eyes snapped open.

  “I’m not done with you yet,” she said.

  His eyes drooped, heavy as he stared at her face hovering above his glistening cock. A bead of pre-come pearled on the tip as her hand continued its relentless rhythm.

  She leaned in and licked the little drop away. His narrow stare, the parted lips were all as she had expected. The quirked lip on one side, the tiny smile, was pure Garrick.

  Another pearl of pre-come appeared immediately.

  Her tongue darted out for that one, too.

  Her hand pumped steadily while she licked spots here and there around it. The divot got another tickle. She traced a vein from root to crown with the tip of her tongue, then danced the broad flat around the soft velvety head. The tang of his pre-come grew stronger, more frequent, as it continued to leak.

  He showed admirable restraint. The quiver in his thighs was the only betrayal of the amount of control he was exerting over his body.

  Which didn’t seem right at all.

  She took him fast and held him deep, using her hand to cover the rest. She wished she could take him deeper, deep throat him, but her gag reflex would never let her even close.

  She decided to try something different.

  Setting up a steady rhythm of plunge and retreat, lick and suck, she started him on the climb to his release. She didn’t have long, she could tell. She slipped one finger into her mouth alongside his cock for one round trip, then ran her fingers over his sac again. She didn’t tease, tug, or even test their weight—though it was tempting—but kept going, dropping her hand lower to press her wet finger against the seam beneath.

  “Yes,” Garrick gasped, his legs spreading even wider.

  He didn’t have to ask twice. She rubbed the tight skin of his perineum, massaging gently.

  His arms flew over his head to clutch the headboard as he writhed against her finger and thrust up into her hand and mouth.

  Three frantic jerks and he hit the peak, his body shaking with the force of his climax. His cock pulsed long jets of come into her waiting mouth and she took it all as he quaked beneath her, his face smashed to his arm, his mouth open and gasping for air.