Page 104 of The Risk Taker

Our chemistry is off the charts. I’ve never wanted anyone more.

The more revelations he divulged tonight, giving me glimpses into his soul, the more I could breathe again. Did I even realize I’d been holding my breath this entire time? But Ollie’s like pure oxygen. I was deprived of it for a time. He stole it when he left for Chicago. And he brought it back with him when he returned.

With our confessions at the wedding, all the walls between us came crashing down until they were nothing more than dust. I no longer feel the need to stay on guard to protect my heart. Because I gave it to him, and he gladly accepted it. After giving me his in return, of course. That’s something my teenage mind never dreamed would happen. But for the first time in my young life, I can be one hundred percent myself. After all, very few people know me better than Ollie does. I feel accepted for who I am.

I also never imagined we’d be in my childhood home, in my adolescent bedroom, alone, and eyeing each other like pieces of meat we are about to devour after fasting for several days.

I recognize the hunger inside his eyes as he watches me drop the zipper on my dress and reveal my lacy underwear. I’m not wearing a bra. I feel the heat of his mouth when it dips to my shoulder to taste my skin and again when he glides up my neck with his tongue leading the way. His touch is soft as he takes my breasts into his palms to mold and shape them. My nipples are like stone as he rubs across them with the pads of his thumbs.

I anchor him to me by the loosened knot of his tie as our mouths dance, and I like the control it gives me. I’m naked, except for my panties, and he’s fully clothed, but I don’t feel overexposed. Instead, I feel powerful. Somehow, the contrast of him fully dressed while I’m barely wearing anything makes this even hotter.

But Ollie has always been the dominant type, so he quickly takes over, sliding the tie over his head and dropping it to the floor, his shirt and slacks following behind. He’s eager to remove all the barriers between us. He radiates heat as my fingers trace the hard lines of his chest and abs, moving across his skin like I’m mapping out a trail, one that leads me to the treasure that dips into his boxer briefs. He’s hard and thick and long, his length pulsing in my grip as I slide from base to tip and back again.

He removes his briefs, and then my panties disappear as Ollie slides them slowly down my legs. He drops to his knees as I step out of them, one leg at a time. His eyes connect with mine right before he dives between my legs, his tongue carving a path to my sensitive clit. My head thumps as it hits the wall behind me when he swirls around my nub, taking his time to taste and torture me, and my fingers dive into his hair. I’m embarrassingly wet, but that’s what Ollie does to me. I think I’ve been dripping since I first spotted him in the small crowd tonight.

As he kneels, the muscles in his legs are taut and neatly outlined, as if a sculptor carved each distinct, sexy groove. His body is cut from stone. Hockey players spend so much time on the ice, propelling their big frames across the rink, that their thigh muscles and glutes are literal works of art.

On the way up from his knees, Ollie grabs my thighs and lifts me as if performing a squat in the weight room. I’m anchored against the wall, held in place by his hips, as he thrusts up into me without warning, connecting us instantly. I groan as pleasure and pain meet inside of me. He gives me a second to adjust before he starts moving. He thrusts slowly, and by the third time he enters me, I’m moaning in pure pleasure as the pain completely disappears.

I watch as his glutes contract in the reflection of the mirror across the room, and the space between my legs grows even wetter at the sight of his thick body nestled between my legs. Every movement, every touch is meant to drive me out of my mind. He’s intent on pleasuring me, my needs seeming to surpass his own.

We land on my bed a few minutes later, where I’ve made out with a few guys over the years, but never done anything like this. I crawl on top of Ollie and sink down on his cock as he watches me from below. His blue eyes are molten as his hands explore my body while I move. But Ollie only lets me lead the way for so long before he’s thrusting up into me from below, dictating the speed and rhythm. He massages my clit and sends me into orbit with an orgasm so powerful that I spasm around him for a good minute before it subsides.

And then he flips me over with my stomach on the mattress and my ass in the air and enters me from behind. He’s so deep at this angle that it almost hurts. His hand grips the headboard, and he pounds into me until I’m exploding with him again a few minutes later.

We snuggle together, recovering. We talk about the wedding and his time in Chicago. He tells me about his recovery and the teammates he’s met so far, the city and places he wants to take me when I visit. And he informs me that I will visit soon, that it’s a must because it’s going to take effort to make this work, but that he wants it to work. I want it too, so much.

Pillow talk quickly turns to kissing. And kissing morphs into touching. And soon, we’re going for round two and then round three, like we can’t get enough of each other. I know I can’t get enough of him. Apparently, a few short weeks apart made both of us ravenous for each other. Or maybe it was a lifetime of knowing each other but never crossing that line until now.

“Shouldn’t you be saving some of this testosterone for the rink?” I ask, my body so languid that I don’t think I can move.

I’ve lost count of the number of orgasms he’s given me.

His cheek is pressed against my forehead, where I’m resting against him. His fingers are carving patterns across my back.

“Are you complaining?”

“Nope.” I shake my head. “No complaints here.”

“I didn’t think so,” he says arrogantly. “And don’t worry about me and hockey. I’ve got plenty of reserves to keep me going.”

I roll my eyes, but can’t stop my lips from tilting into a smile. “Of course you do.” My eyes narrow as my smile falls. “Just make sure you save it all for me and hockey and don’t spread it around to your little groupies.”

“There’s plenty of me to go around,” he murmurs and then huffs out air as I smack his lower gut. He holds me tighter with a chuckle. “You’re so easy to rile up.” He lifts my chin until our eyes meet, and his expression turns serious. “Why would I ever want anyone else when I have you?”

“Me and you?” I whisper, holding his stare for what seems like forever.

He nips at my lower lip. “Me and you,” he promises against my mouth.

And I believe him.

EPILOGUE

MADISON

Love is rarely linear. Ollie and I have proven that to be true.

It’s strange how, in the blink of an eye, someone I’ve known for most of my life can suddenly become someone so different to me. So much more. Ollie has been my best friend’s big brother and our protector for so many years. He was a hockey phenom that I watched blossom as we grew older. He was the all-around stud who seemed untouchable, so I always kept him at arm’s length. Now … he’s my everything.

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