Page 75 of Dream Girl Drama

“I’m afraid sex in hockey pads isn’t going to live up to the fantasy.”

His playfulness registered and she smiled into their next kiss. “Oh no?”

“No. For one, I won’t be able to feel your skin on mine and that’s a crime. Two, I won’t be able to move as easily. You like when I move, right?”

“Like isn’t the right word. Revere?”

“We’ll go with revere. Three, I’m going to get real hot, real fast fucking you with all that shit on.” She was starting to breathe faster. So was he. “Finally, four—and probably most important—my dick is going to be buried under padding, a cup, and some annoying ass laces. Not very easy to access.”

“I’ve considered this. A lot. I’ve considered this a lot.”

“Have you?” He urged Chloe’s thighs around his hips, snuck a forearm under her butt, and turned to carry her out of the bathroom. “What are your thoughts?”

“Unlace you, remove the cup from that pocket in front of your shorts, push down the elastic, get you inside me, hold on to those big shoulder pads, and ride.” She blurted all of it without taking a single breath. “I’ll be quick, I promise.” She licked the underside of his chin. “You won’t have enough time to get overheated.”

His cock swelled into an ache, the length of him pulsing so insistently against her bare sex through the fly of his pants, getting inside of her became a matter of urgency. “How’d you know about the pocket for my cup?”

“Some people surf internet porn. I surf sporting goods websites.”

They let out breathless laughs against each other’s mouths for several stolen moments, there in the dimness of the hotel room,as Chloe lowered her feet to the ground. Standing in front of him with her face tilted up, eyes closed as if lost to the bliss as much as he was, she unzipped his pants and nudged him backward onto the couch, straddling him and lowering that tightness onto his cock, whimpering inch by whimpering inch. Hurriedly, before he could lose the ability to make mental commands, he unfastened the buttons of her borrowed shirt, yanking it down her arms, away, palming her tits, groaning as Chloe, fully and gloriously naked, rode his cock like she fucking owned it.

“Good girl, just like that. Take me in. Take me out. In now.In in in.”

“Oh my God,” she whined through her teeth, hands tangling in his hair, twisting, thighs open wide, hips bucking. “It’s so good.”

“I’ll wear the pads. I’ll do whatever you want, just keep that up. Oh.FUCK.”

She rolled their foreheads together. “Did you like what I did to you last time?”

His thoughts were fragmenting, the clench of her cunt, her scent, the full body contact with her skin, everything was so much. Overwhelmingly perfect. Intimate. Real. Nothing would ever be this perfect again. “I love everything you do to me, baby. Be specific.”

“I put that finger in back,” she whispered, lapping at his tongue, as if his brain wasn’t already on the verge of implosion. And this girl, she looked him right in the eye while implying she’d like him to finger her asshole. Part of him seriously questioned in that moment if she loved him or wanted to kill him, but he didn’t care, either way. Not when he obliged her and she moaned, working that slippery pussy up and down his hard shaft. “Feels good.”

“Tuck it in a little more?”

“Yes.”

“OhJesus. She’s even tighter back here.”

“Sig. Stop. Keep going.Sig.”

They gasped into a kiss and her lower body went into test-his-stamina mode, grinding down on his root, throwing her hips back to partially free his flesh, then riding back down. Up and down, while their mouths moved in a frenzy, stealing each other’s breath and giving it back, teeth sinking into neck tendons, fingers burying in muscle, grunts hitting the walls of the living space and echoing back, the couch springs growing louder with protest the longer and harder she rode, Sig holding on to his come with every ounce of willpower in his body, until she finally screamed into his sweaty neck and let go, allowing him to throw her down on the couch and deliver one final, shattering drive.

And afterward, the way they clung to each other was just as powerful as the act itself, her laboring breath baptizing his skin, their hearts making vows their lips weren’t capable of speaking. Maybe theirs was the kind of love that didn’t need to be spoken out loud. Later, though... he’d wish he had. Maybe it would have made a difference.

Chapter Nineteen

Chloe stared up at the ceiling, sandwiched between the greatest high she’d ever experienced—and dread that multiplied by the second. It scaled the walls of her insides like the kind of black mold that couldn’t be wiped out without total demolishment. She didn’t quite have an explanation for the sense of impending doom yet, only that a turning point was coming... and no one was there to give her directions anymore.

For once, the man she depended on for directions was lost.

More lost than Chloe.

Looking across the pillow into his smiling face, one couldn’t tell. He was wreathed in his usual confidence. His hand stroked her face like an artist framing a landscape—one he found breathtaking and worthy of staring at for decades. He was the picture of masculine beauty, casual in his nudity. Not in a rush to go anywhere. Content to hold her after the most incredible rounds of sex she could have imagined. Their physical chemistry was the final shred of proof they were made for each other, as far as Chloe was concerned. She’d never felt free to be so uninhibited before. So positive she could only do right in the arms of another person.

This man was her soulmate, through and through. But the dread only ran amuck now, spreading to her limbs, scraping the walls of her heart.

You want that contract, that captain spot more than anything.

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