Page 128 of Butterfly Effect

“Too bad. No takesies backsies.”

Gabe harrumphs. “Some friend you’re turning out to be.”

“Watch it. I know your deepest, darkest secrets now. I could misuse that information.”

“Well, I know yours, too.”

“Not all of them.”

“You have more secrets?”

“Wanna find out, Freckles?”

If getting Gabe Finch in a sex swing didn’t kill me, sharing a bed with her on a regular basis might do it.

Though itwasdownright adorable when she thought it was a set of over-the-door portable TRX straps. I set her straight, fucking that pussy from behind, her legs Velcroed high and wide and in plain view of the giant mirror tilted against my bedroom wall.

Earlier tonight, I snuck into her hotel room. She’s covering the game with Vancouver tomorrow and we both need rest, but it’s 3 a.m. and I can’t sleep. One, she’s wearing my fucking jersey, and two, she won’t stop squirming in her sleep while we spoon, pert ass grinding against my excited cock. My fingers sink into her hips as a rumbling groan spills out.

Freckles whines. “Get your leg away from my buttcrack. It’s hard and uncomfortable.”

“That’s not my leg.” I fiddle with the end of her braid, mindlessly brushing it over my mouth and nose.

She sighs, exasperated, but hums when I roll my hips to seek the same delicious friction.

“Wade, if we fuck right now, will you let me sleep in?”

“Hell, yes.”

Gabe wiggles against the mattress before her silk shorts billow onto my face. “Grab a condom.”

I scramble for one from atop the nightstand, sliding it over the shaft without removing my boxers.

“And this,” she commands, wrapping her braid around my wrist.

A delicate yank twists it until her head tips up. My other hand dives between her legs, splitting them apart to position myself and attempt some sort of prep, but she’s already wet.

“Been dreamin’ about me, Freckles?”

“You wish. I was in the middle of some truly disgusting stuff with?—”

Without hesitation, I tease the tip in from behind and give her clit a light pinch. “Don’t you dare say anyone’s name but mine…”

She gasps. “Oh,God.”

“That’s more like it.” My lips find the shell of her ear, delving in inch-by-inch. “Fucking love when you call me that.”

“I hate you.”

“Is that so?” The next rough plunge shakes moans from both of us.

“Yes.” She pants between every slam. “I hate your arrogant” —I pull out until her pussy can only tighten around the head of my cock— “handsome face. And your” —her hips adjust, angling to swallow me again until I hit a spot so deep she whines through a pause— “stupid dimpled smirks.”

I disrupt the languid pace, my heartbeat ragged between punishing thrusts and questions I know the answer to. “You hate me right now, Freckles?” Her walls pulse without rhythm whenI stroke her G-spot. “Hate how good you’re taking every inch of my cock with my name plastered on your back?” We share a loud, shameless groan when I push in once more. “Hate how your little cunt makes a mess for me?”

“Oh, my—fuck—Wade—” Her nails clip into my forearms, shredding the sweat-lined top layer of skin. “I’m gonna?—”

My hands abandon her hips, climbing under the thickly knit polyester to pluck at the hardened peaks of her nipples while nibbling a tender stretch of skin along her neck. I throb, fully inside her, twitching for relief but desperate for her to finish first. “Please, Gabe,” I beg through a grunt, about to explode into the condom. “I’m so fucking close.”

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