Page 28 of Pucking Amazing

“You okay with this?” I ask, because I want her all in.

A shy nod and a small smile escape her before she meets my gaze fully, vulnerability and desire shining back at me.

“Yes, I’m okay with this,” Sydney confirms, her voice firmer now, seemingly emboldened by our obvious shared lust.

I close the distance between us entirely, my lips capturing hers in a kiss that feels like the first spring day after a relentless winter—warm, promising, revitalizing. She tastes like coffee and peppermint, a combo I’m already addicted to.

Her arms wind around my neck, pulling me closer as if she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she lets go.

The world narrows down to just the two of us on this rooftop, surrounded by the sounds of the city below and blanketed by the crisp morning.

Before I can think better of it, I’m pulling off her coat, then reaching under her skirt, my hand skimming up her thigh as I deepen the kiss, reveling in the softness of her skin.

Sydney gasps against my lips, her body pressing closer to mine, her hands wandering over my back, tracing the outlines of my muscles. The cold air nips at us, but the heat between us could melt the ice in the rink below.

She winds her fingers in my hair. I break the kiss to catch my breath, both of us panting slightly, cheeks flushed with more than just the chill, and then I watch her face as my hand edges up higher…

“DJ...” Sydney murmurs, her voice catching as my fingers dance dangerously close to crossing a line.

Her eyes lock onto mine, wide and exhilarated, a silent question passing between us.

I pause, letting the moment stretch out deliciously.

“Too much?” I ask, my voice low and husky, my breath visible in the cold air.

She shakes her head slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. “No,” she whispers back, her breath hitching. “Just enough.”

Encouraged by her response, my hand moves higher, eliciting a soft moan from deep within her as I explore further, pushing back the fabric of her thin panties, my fingers teasing the sensitive skin beneath, caressing her wet folds before starting to tease her opening, one finger slipping in, then two.

Sydney’s breath turns ragged, her grip on me tightening as if she’s clinging to sanity by a thread.

Her legs tremble slightly and she leans more fully into me for support. The city’s distant noises fade away, drowned out by the sound of her quickening breaths and the soft moans that escape her lips every time my fingers move against her clit, her pussy getting wetter and wetter.

Her back arches, pressing her closer to me, and heat rises between us, scorching against the cold morning air.

“DJ,” she gasps again, this time her voice laced with urgency, her hands pulling at my hair.

I chuckle softly as I kiss her, the sound rumbling from my chest and vibrating against her lips.

“You like that?” I murmur, increasing the pressure just a bit, circling her clit faster and then slowing, teasing her, delighting in the way her body responds so beautifully to my touch.

“Yes,” she breathes out, almost desperately. “Don’t stop. I want?—”

But before she can finish, a sudden noise has us both freezing. The moment fractures, and we break apart, both glancing toward the doorway, but nobody is there. Sydney pulls back further, grabs for her coat.

She wraps it around herself quickly, the flush of our activities still painting her cheeks red.

The sudden return to reality makes my heart hammer against my ribs, not entirely from the exertion.

There’s a flicker of something like regret in Sydney’s eyes, maybe for the interruption or perhaps for the line we had just crossed. But I’m glad to see that underneath that, there’s an unmistakable glint of exhilaration.

“I—we should probably cool down,” she stammers, her voice husky from our escapade. “This was... I mean, I don’t want you thinking?—”

And then she flees, leaving me standing alone, my heart still racing as the vivid recollection of our heated encounter makes it impossible to think straight.

I take a few deep breaths, letting the cold air fill my lungs and chill my heated skin. My fingers still tingle from the warmth of her touch, and I wipe them against my sweatpants absently.

Running a frustrated hand through my hair, I take a deep breath and try to compose myself. Hockey practice is going to be pure torture after that. Time to take a cold shower and think about grandmas before I head to the rink.

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