Idrop back down over her perfect fucking body, dragging soft, messy kisses over her sweat-slicked chest. I work to get my vision straight, blinking and willing my heart rate to even out.
All my hottest sexual fantasies have featured Sloane.
And none of them were as hot as the real thing.
Her fingers comb through the back of my hair. “It’s a shame that I’ve peaked at only twenty-eight,” she breathes out raggedly. “I’m sure every sexual experience will be downhill after that.”
I chuckle against her and it vibrates through her body. I love feeling this connected to her right now. Like I could send her subliminal messages and she’d just know.
“Sunny, we’re only getting started.” I pull away, and my cock slips from her heat. A rush of cum follows, spilling out. Holding her gaze for a beat, I reach down and use one finger to slide it back in. My cock hardens as I work her, practically ready to go again when she whimpers and clenches around me.
I stand, wanting to see her right now. Not just being mine, but really looking like mine.
My eyes rake over her body, all splayed out for me. My stubble burn on her chest. My cum inside her. And I smirk, feeling incredibly satisfied with the mess we’ve made.
“Fuck,” she huffs out, eyes fluttering shut, as I continue to slide my finger in and out of her.
“Is that a request, Sloane?”
Her lips quirk up, her mesmerizing blue eyes taking on a dreamy, faraway look that I want to get lost in. “No, Jasper. It’s a demand.”
I immediately reach for her, pull her into me, and lift her up in my arms. “Whatever my girl wants,” I rumble against her hair as I carry her into the living room.
Then I drop her to the couch, put her on all fours, and drag her ass up into position before giving in to all of her demands.
Repeatedly.
I expected to wake up with Sloane’s head pressed to my chest. Instead, I wake up with her naked and straddling me, running her hands all over my chest, her perfect tits with this alluring little C-shape beneath them.
“Eyes up here, Gervais.” Her fingers pinch and give a little tug to the hair on my chest, drawing my attention to her face.
“Wasn’t trying to find your eyes, Winthrop.” I shoot her a wicked grin, one that doesn’t come out to play much.
It dawns on me that I don’t smile much, period. Don’t usually feel inclined. But with Sloane, they crop up out of nowhere. There’s a special power in being able to make a person smile just by existing.
“Pig,” she huffs, dropping her chin shyly and going back to tracing the lines of my tattoos with her fingers.
“I’ve spent years getting lost in your eyes, Sloane. The rest of you though? It’s all new. I imagine this is what going to Disneyland for the first time is like. Overstimulating.”
“My boobs are—”
“Perfect,” I cut her off, catching the self-deprecating look she shoots down at herself.
Sloane rolls her eyes and pauses. “Wait, you’ve never been to Disneyland?” One hand shoots up to cover her mouth, and her eyes go wide, like she spoke before thinking about how my childhood played out. Even before that day, expensive family vacations weren’t in the cards for us. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I much prefer this version of Disneyland. No waiting in line. The ride is all mine.” I reach up, gently palming her breasts before sliding one hand under the sheets and landing a slap on her ass. “Does Cinderella have an ass like this? Because unless she does I’m not interested.”
A shy smile graces her lips, and her soft hair brushes her collarbones as she stares down at me. Sun blazes in from the skylight above her, making her glow.
Not for the first time, I’m struck by the feeling that everything feels different between us. And yet the same somehow. There’s no awkwardness. There’s not that sensation that usually hits where I want to be alone.
I’d rather just lie here and stare at her.
“Hi, Sunny.” My hands land on her hips, holding her gently, fingers trailing over the dips at the base of her spine.
“Hi, Jas.” Her fingers splay over the ballerina tattoo on my ribs, and we stare at each other for a few beats. “What are we going to do today?”
“Whatever you want.” My hands pulse, and her cheeks turn pink as my cock hardens beneath her.
“Are we leaving this cottage?” Her head tilts when she asks me the question.
“Would probably be most polite if we did.”
“Since when do you care about being polite? You usually sit in the corner with the brim of your cap pulled low so no one talks to you.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t work. You talk at me anyway.”
She slaps my chest playfully. “Okay, fine. We’ll go see everyone . . .” Her eyes drop to my chest, fingers moving to land a quick pinch on my nipple. “But not yet.
I hum, taking my hands off of her and putting them behind my head like I’m lying on a beach somewhere. “Definitely not yet.”
Her eyes snap to mine and she searches my face. “Tell me what to do.”
“Yeah?”
She bites her lip, trying to keep from beaming at me. “Yeah.”
“Are you sore?”
“Have you seen your dick?”
“Answer the question, Sloane.”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes, looking all bratty as she does. “Yeah. I mean, I’m a bit sore—”
“Good. Get up here and sit on my face.”
When I shoot forward and grab her, she squeals.
And when I make her come, she calls out my name.
“This isn’t fair!” Sloane calls from the opposite side of the pond, warm breath puffing out in little clouds in front of her. “You guys have a literal NHL player on your team!”
Vaughn, Billie’s husband, hollers back from our end, “To be fair, his team doesn’t belong in the NHL this year!”
Cole groans and rolls his eyes.
Griffin, Nadia’s husband, who I also recognize as a retired football player, punches him in the shoulder with a grumbled, “Dick.”
“Sorry, man.” Vaughn chuckles. “Lifelong Vancouver Titans fan. Nothing personal.”
I tap my stick against the ice and offer him a smirk. “It’s alright. I get it. There’s no accounting for taste when someone is a Titans fan.”
A chorus of “oooohs” sound around us.
Everyone agreed a day off was in the cards. A game of shinny on the frozen pond is what they decided on doing, and I’m not mad at it.
With the weight of Beau missing off my shoulders, I’m craving getting back on the ice. But instead of to-prate gear, dull skates on bumpy ice and work gloves with an old, heavy stick and antique pads are what I’ve got.
“Okay, enough shit talking.” Stefan, the most refined looking of the bunch, skates over and gestures all the men toward him.
“What are you? The captain now? Just because you’re the evil mastermind of the group?” Vaughn rolls his eyes, clearly the playful one.
“It’s the turtleneck.” Griffin points at the perfectly polished man’s sweater. “Only a man with big enough balls to be a captain would be caught dead wearing one.”
“You guys!” Stefan laughs. “My neck is warm so leave me alone. Worry about Mira.” He angles his chin over my shoulder to where the woman with long black hair flowing out from under a cream hat is grinning at him. “She’s got that crazy, competitive look on her face. We know these women. They are insane.”
“Here, here!” Vaughn nods enthusiastically.
“They can’t be trusted.”
Cole straightens. “Watch your fucking mouth, Dalca.”
“Whatever, G.I. Joe.” He waves him off and continues, “We need to win. Or risk the women completely emasculating us.” Stefan can’t even get that last part of his ridiculous pep talk out without chuckling.
“You’re already wearing a turtleneck.” Griffin shakes his head.
“You little bitch babies ready?” Billie calls from the other end of the pond. “Or are you all just gonna stand around in a circle talking about your feelings while we wait?”
“Baby, you’re dead!” Vaughn shouts back at her.
She smiles and gives him a wink.
The shit-talking continues as they make their way to center ice to drop the puck. But I’m not watching that.
I’m watching Sloane.
Sloane who just took her coat off and is wearing my jersey. The gold highlights on the maroon base match her hair, and the big grizzly on the front makes her appear more vicious than she is.
Somehow she takes an oversize jersey and makes it look so damn good. Too damn good.
And when she turns around with Gervais written across her back? I smile behind the cage of my helmet.
My name looks good on her too.
The game is amateur enough that I could stop everyone’s shots in my sleep, but I let some in . . . just to keep things exciting.
It’s the joking and camaraderie that I enjoy the most.
It’s watching Sloane dart around on the ice wearing my jersey that gives me a semi the entire game.
And it’s when she skates up to me and whispers in my ear, “Jas, when we get back in that cottage, I want you to shove me on my knees and show me exactly how you like your cock sucked,” that Mira slips around me and my one-track mind to score the game winning goal.
“Got yaaaaaaaa!” Sloane’s hands fly up over her head as she cheers with the other women, celebrating their win of what Billie coined “The Kindergarten Cup” because “only a bunch of man-children could come up with a game that’s boys against girls”.
Sloane laughs. She’s light and bright. She’s Sunny. She makes me smile so hard my cheeks hurt.
I can’t take my eyes off of her.
