Page 47 of Hooking Up with the Hockey Player

When my breath catches, a smile ghosts over his lips. “Yeah. That’s what I like,” he murmurs, the words as much for him as they are for me, I think.

Dipping his head, he captures my nipple again, sucking it hard, and that combined with the way he’s rubbing my clit … “Oh god.” He makes that encouraging sound again, not letting up at all, and I’m clutching at whatever I can reach, my free hand scrabbling on the bed, gripping the blanket then my hair, my whole body undulating as my orgasm dances closer.

Another sound of encouragement from Troy, and then it hits, washing over me like a wave, my whole body jerking as my pussy spasms, and still he keeps going until I grip his forearm. “Please. Enough. Stop,” I pant, feeling lax and warm all over now.

Lifting his head, he grins before kissing me, sliding his hand up just a little so he’s not touching my clit anymore, but still indecently close.

I kiss him back, this kiss lazier than any before, like this was all he came in here for.

But that’s not enough. It’s his turn.

If nothing else, Jared’s inability to get me off only convinced me more of the importance of reciprocation.

Rolling toward him, I reach for him, and he groans when I rub him through his shorts again. But I need more. He needs more.

Gently, I push on his chest. “Lie back,” I whisper.

His eyes a little wary, he does as I ask. Propping myself on one arm, I rub my hand all over his chest, and he closes his eyes, enjoying my touch as though it’s the best thing ever.

I like that he’s so appreciative of my hand on him. And if rubbing his torso makes him feel good, how much better will rubbing his dick feel?

I tug free the button on his shorts, the teeth of the zipper rasping loudly in the quiet of my room. His eyes pop open, and I watch him as he watches my hand undoing his shorts. There goes his jaw clenching again, and when he meets my eyes, they seem full of questions. I answer with a dip of my chin. Yes. Yes, I am going to do this.

The open fly of his shorts reveals faded plaid boxers, and I slide my hand beneath the waistband, his skin hot beneath my palm, the hair of his treasure trail growing thicker the farther down I go. When my fingers wrap around the smooth skin of his dick, it jumps in my hand, and he groans softly.

I give him an experimental stroke, and he reflexively thrusts into my hand, his eyes opening into slits. Then he reaches for me, his hand cupping the back of my head, pulling my face close so he can kiss me as I stroke him slowly.

After a few minutes, he uses his free hand to shove his shorts and boxers down, and I break away from our kiss with a gasp, needing to see all of him for the first time.

He lets out a soft groan as I stroke him harder, faster, licking my lips at the sight of the broad, flushed crown seeping a shiny bead of precum above my fist. “Not fair,” he murmurs, and I turn a questioning gaze on him. He runs a hand down my bare back, stopping at the waist of my shorts. “I’m naked and you’re not.”

Smirking, I jerk him a little faster. “You want me to stop so I can take my shorts off?”

Another groan. “God, no. Don’t stop.”

The fingers of one hand trail over the skin of my back while his other hand wraps over mine around his dick, adding more pressure, moving faster, showing me what he needs. When he releases me and I continue with what he showed me, he hisses again. “Yes. Like that. So good.”

His fingers slip inside my shorts as I work him, watching the way his hips flex, the muscles in his abs and thighs jumping, his jaw ticking, his head pressing back into the pillow. This man is so sexy, and it’s surreal that he’s here, with me, in my bedroom.

“Yes, yes. Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.” At his urgent whispers of encouragement, I squeeze harder, move faster, wanting to give him the same thing he gave me.

His head lifts off the pillow, his abs standing out in high relief, his fingers digging into the top of my ass, and then it happens. He comes. Thick creamy fluid shoots onto his belly. I keep stroking him as it tapers off, finally stopping when he relaxes, his whole body going lax, and I smile at the results of my handiwork.

Releasing him, I gently lay his softening dick on his belly and reach for a tissue from my nightstand, wiping off my hand and sitting for a moment, not sure what to do with myself now.

But I don’t have to wait long. Troy rouses himself after a beat, eyes opening on an indrawn breath, looking down at himself, then up at me, a satisfied smile curving his lips. He reaches for me, and I lie down with him, kissing him briefly before curling up against his side, my head pillowed on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around me and holding me close.

He sighs, content, and I let my eyes fall closed. This isn’t exactly what I expected when I invited him in. Honestly, in my experience, guys are always in a hurry to get their dick out and inside the nearest orifice, but that didn’t seem like Troy’s goal at all.

He wanted to pleasure me. To touch me, make me feel good, and while he was certainly happy to have a turn, I have the distinct impression that he would’ve been fine if I hadn’t offered to reciprocate.

That doesn’t fit with my preferences, though. I want everyone to get what they need, regardless of who comes first.

But now we have to clean up because he’s messy. “Do you want a shower?” I ask quietly into the comfortable silence. “Or just a wet towel?”

He seems to rouse, like he was almost asleep, and I kinda like the fact that he feels so comfortable here with me that he could nod off like that. Using his arm around me to pull me up, he kisses me again. “A shower sounds nice. You gonna join me?”

Biting my lip, I shrug. “I suppose that can be arranged.”

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