Page 52 of My Pucking Perfect Goalie

But she doesn’t. Instead, she reaches forward, tugging my pants and boxers down so they fall away, leaving my cock there, throbbing and hard.

Finn considers it for a second, her eyes darkening. Maybe this is what gets me off about her—the constant appraisal. The thrill of getting good marks.

When she wraps her hand around the base of my cock, I black out for a second, the bliss of her palm against me almost too much. Stars dance in my eyes, and when I come back to the moment, she’s grinning up at me with a satisfied smirk. Slowly,she strokes me from base to tip, reaching up and pressing a kiss to my throat as she does.

When I thrust into her hand, the tip of my cock finding friction against the damp, silken fabric of her panties, a thrum of pleasure courses through my body so fully I think I might come immediately.

“Not yet,” Finn whispers, and I groan, dropping my forehead against her shoulder, fighting to restrain myself, to keep from releasing into her hand right now. “Work for it, Sammy.”

Her voice is low, sultry, and I growl, thrusting against her again, already going insane at the fact that I’m not inside her right now. Of course Finn would take control of the situation, keep me just on the fray of getting what I want.

“Show me that you can do a good job,” she purrs, “show me that you can fuck me right, Sammy.”

“Fuck.”

Hips moving, I thrust into her hand, both engulfed in what’s happening right now and also imagining her on her back, legs spread, right at the edge of her desk. How I’d hold her thighs, find the perfect angle, slam into her so hard she’d forget her name.

Unable to stop myself, I grab her hip, planting my thumb on her clit and pressing until her body reacts against mine. Her handtightens on my cock, and it sends me over the edge, my release coming hot and fast on her panties and her desk.

“Sammy,” she gasps, and then, “Sam.”

That nickname rockets through me—returning me instantly to my childhood. My dad, calling my name through the house, hollering it cheerfully when I got a great block.

Sam.

When I first came to the Vipers, it was understood pretty quickly that I didn’t want anyone calling me Sam. It was Devon who christened me Sammy and saved me from that awkward conversation.

Sam.

“You okay?” Finn asks when I open my eyes again, her face coming into focus. I’m still breathing hard. Her hand is still loosely around my dick, and my hand is still planted on her hip. Despite the fact that I just came, I still want her. I want to steal her and hide her away, have my way with her until these urges finally stop.

“Yeah,” I say, roughly,Samstill echoing in the back of my head. When she smiles at me, her eyes still faraway and stuck in that lust-fueled haze, I say, “Finn, I want to fuck you again.”

Finn

I should not be sitting on this desk with Sammy Braun’s cock in my hand. My pussy should not be pulsing with need, wet and aching with the thought of him bending me over this desk. Of everything we’ve yet to try together.

And yet, here I am, body lighting on fire when he says, “Finn, I want to fuck you again.”

His lips find my neck again, trailing scorching hot kisses from my collar bone to my chin, biting and nipping, my mind turning off, fingers tightening around his cock, body considering what it might be like to have him inside me.

How easy it would be to make that happen. The only thing separating us a thin layer of underwear, the time it would take to get him hard again.

“Fucking you makes me better,” he says, voice low and gruff just under my ear. His thumb is still against my clit, and he presses it in, sending a jolt of awareness through my body. “It’s not the B12 or the iron, Finn, it’s the fact that I had my face in your pussy.That’swhat made the difference.”

My laugh morphs into a gasp when he increases his speed, his thumb moving harder and faster against me, making the pleasure spike and tighten.

“You think I’m joking—I’m not,” he says, voice still low and urgent in my ear. “I need you, Finn.”

My orgasm comes quick, flashing through me so fast and hard that my mouth drops open. Sammy takes advantage of it by kissing me, his tongue in my mouth, the friction on my clit and tongue lining up and amplifying the pleasure.

Somewhere, distantly, in the back of my mind, I think:What the fuck am I doing?

But it feels too good to think about that. And what if—it’s a ridiculous thought—but what if Sammy is serious? Hedidhave a sudden and almost unexplained spike in his performance the past couple of days—without any significant improvement on the Harper front.

We haven’t even spoken about the photo he posted of us to his Instagram story, though I’d looked at it more times than I’d ever admit. And I saw thatharper_gurlhad also seen it, and several people had already started speculating about who the woman tucked into his chest could possibly be.

Sammy continues kissing me, his lips moving slowly against my skin, like he can’t stop himself from pressing kiss after kiss to my neck and collarbone.

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