Page 15 of Wildfire
“Yeah. Feeling like I should have put more effort into the lap dance. Didn’t know you were going to put on the performance of your life, jeez.” My brain and body finally start communicating again, allowing me to climb on top of him, straddling his thighs. “Do you have condoms?”
The expression that settles over his face is like something out of a horror film. It’s funny really, the moment he realizes he fucked up. “Sorry, I’ve just moved and haven’t had a chance to get some and I wasn’t expecting to… I’m sorry, I didn’t think.” He looks down at the erection pressing against his boxers and blows out a sigh. “I’ll check Henry’s room.”
“As much as I’d love to see you try and hide that from a houseful of people, I have some in my purse.”
By the time I’ve retrieved one and thrown it onto the bed beside us, the look of panic has disappeared. He sits up, leaning back against one hand, cupping my face with the other. I’m waiting for him to say something, again. Nervousness floods my system as he strokes his thumb across my bottom lip. “So perfect.”
I want to fill the silence with every thought in my head for reasons I don’t understand. I think his awkwardness has rubbed off on me a little.
Pushing him back down, I pick up the condom and tear the wrapper with my teeth, lifting myself up to let him move his boxers down until his erection springs free. I release less of a gasp and more of a surprised hiccup when I realize what we’re dealing with here. He takes the condom from my hand, rolling it on while I evaluate.
“There’s no way that’s going to fit. I mean I love a challenge, but I can only be challenged so much, y’know?” He pulls me down to him, our mouths aligning, my stomach moving with his as he chuckles at my crisis.
He still tastes like me when his tongue moves against mine; he groans into my mouth when I roll my hips against him. His eyes close, voice strains. “We’ll make it fit.”
Oh Lord.
Carefully, and while kind of wishing I took another shot for courage, I push myself up from his chest and sink down onto him slowly. “Holy fuck.” Russ’s hands grip my hips tightly. “Is this okay?” he whispers.
I nod as I lift myself up and sink down a little more, then again, until I’m finally taking most of him. My nails dig into his chest, his fingers sink into my skin, and the sound of our bodies slapping together echoes around the room.
Why did I think I had the stamina to go on top?
“You’re taking it so well, sweetheart.” I work a little harder, clearly motivated by words and moans. “That’s it, good girl.”
Who knew Mr. Helpful and I would be so compatible. I like it when he praises me and he really likes it when I swirl my hips on the end of his dick. Dream team.
One of his hands travels between my legs, rubbing exactly where I need him to, and my body moves instinctively, grinding and chasing the building feeling.
“Russ… Yes, yes.” He keeps praising and rubbing and letting me take what I need until my entire body tightens and I collapse on top of him, crying out. Rolling me onto my back, he takes his weight on his arms while I pant beneath him.
He brushes my hair out of my face, slowly moving in and out of me again. His head falls to my neck, kissing my skin lightly as I wrap my arms and still shaky legs around him. “You feel so good, Aurora,” he whispers. “I want to feel you come around me again.”
Where the fuck did this man come from?
The sweet way he talks to me, kisses me, even the way he looks at me, is totally contradicted by the confident way he freaking pounds me into the bed. I’m exhausted, satiated—and yet I don’t want it to end. My hand slips to where we’re joined, frantically working to finish when he does. His body falls out of rhythm, breathing gets heavier; I’m nearly there.
A few more thrusts and I’m falling off the edge again, dragging him with me. We’re loud and sweaty and so freaking satisfied.
Holy shit.
Who cares about basketball when hockey players exist?
WELL, IWASN’T EXPECTING THAT.
He rolls off me onto his back, and we both lie staring at the ceiling trying to catch our breath.
“Do you need anything?” he asks softly.
My arms cross over my face, covering my eyes as I shake myhead, attempting to work out how to ask for that, like, twelve more times. “No. I’m good.”
I feel the bed shift as he stands, various noises of him shuffling around the room filling the silence, before I eventually hear the bathroom door close. My body feels like it’s made of Jell-O, and it’s a mental battle to convince myself to find my underwear.
Reaching toward the bedside table for my cell phone, I bring up my chat with Emilia.
EMILIA BENNETT
Live location shared
