Page 91 of Hockey Wife

“The laundry basket.” She licked her lips, sucked in a breath. “If what you’re really asking is why am I naked, I’m hoping that’s obvious.”

It was becoming so. His wife needed a little TLC.

“Are we sure this isn’t you in a weakened state after suffering a brain injury?”

“Someone else will have a brain injury if he doesn’t satisfy his wife’s conjugal rights.”

For all that sass, she still looked vulnerable. Like asking for what she wanted was a big deal. She was worried that he might not want to reciprocate.

While he was worried that she was still recovering from a puck to the head and once he started, he’d drill her into the mattress.

“We’ll take it slow.” He pulled at her bunched-up top, gently eased it over her head and dropped it on the floor. Another heated stare down her lovely nakedness was soon followed by his rough hand over her tits, her stomach, and around to her sweet ass for a squeeze.

She inhaled sharply and arched her back a touch. Her fingertips touched his cheek, then moved over his bruised shoulder, the bump from the separation.

“Still hurts?” she asked.

“Can only feel you.”

Curling a hand around his bearded jaw, she pulled him closer and touched her lips to his. The barest brush, and it set him on fire. “Can you feel this?”

She was asking about more than the physical.

“Can feel you everywhere, Georgia.”

The kiss started softly but that didn’t last long. Lust slammed through him, and that promise to take it slow vanished with the next stuttering heartbeat.

I want this woman so bad.

Too bad.

He drew back, trying to rein in these deeper feelings and transmute them into base desire. That was all this was. A dry spell, a warm woman in his bed, the adrenaline from seeing her hurt.

She chased his mouth, and that notion that she wasn’t playing hard to get, that she needed this as much as he did crashed through him.

Let go. Enjoy this gift because it’ll be gone soon.

He kissed her deeper, going all in with his gorgeous wife.

28

This kiss felt different.

It all felt different. More intense, more focused, just more.

This morning—was that only this morning?—he’d tasted her with his head between her thighs, and it had been wonderful. So hot.

But now, face to face, drinking each other in, she wouldn’t let him get away with pleasing her and denying himself. This time, it would be for them both.

So when he moved his hand down her stomach, seeking the hot, wet flesh that ached for him, she followed suit. Her hand mapped each muscle from his shoulder to his chest to his abs to the one that was hard and thick against her thigh.

Wrapping her hand around him, she marveled at his girth. Her husband was big all over and she couldn’t wait to feel him stretching and filling her. Until then, she’d drive him a little bit crazy.

“Tell me how you like it,” she whispered as he swiped a finger through her damp folds. On her breathy gasp, she tightened her grip on his cock and got a very satisfying groan in return.

“More, baby. Don’t be afraid of roughing me up a little.”

Oh God, the way his voice thrummed through her, like he was rubbing it all over her skin, was so delicious. She parted her legs, letting them fall open to give him better access, and he took it. Two fingers now, rubbing and swirling through all that wetness. With each stroke, ribbons of pleasure eddied through her.

---