Page 35 of The Goalie and Santa's Little Helper

“Good,” I say, lifting up and then sliding back down his shaft. The friction is so sweet, and the way his cock flexes inside of me pushes me to the brink.

I ride his cock with a slow and steady rhythm, my gaze locked on his face, his never drifting from the spot where he enters me. His tongue peeks out as his hips lift, meeting my movement with his own. His hands grip my hips, pulling me down harder withevery pump. And I fling my head back as the first wave takes over my pussy and sends tingles down my arms and legs. I’m numb everywhere except where his cock rubs against me, and he keeps pushing in and pulling out, forcing me to take every rush of pleasure that rocks me.

My body wants to go limp, but Noah isn’t done with me. And he sits up, sliding his hands around my back and ass so he can shift me to my back as he sits up on his knees and holds my thighs against his hips. With his hands under my legs, he continues to fuck me, licking his lips as he watches my body take every inch of him. I want to see, too, so I lift myself on my elbows. His taut stomach muscles flex with every pump, his fingers dig into my skin, and his cock glistens from my pleasure and soon his own. He pulls out midway and finishes on my swollen pussy, rubbing our cum with the tip of his cock, teasing me with it, and nearly making me come again.

My room smells like sweat and sex, and Noah. His body is covered in a sheen of sweat, and my skin sticks to his as I lay on top of him and focus on the feel of his fingertips as they draw circles on my back. I’m exhausted, and I know he is too. But I want to fuck him again. I don’t want to wait for morning. And now that I know the power I hold, I simply bide my time until I can’t handle waiting any longer. I grasp him, and he flexes in my hand.

I start things just as before.

“Fuck me, Noah Drake.”

12/

noah

Frankie Bardot owns me.

Completely.

Nothing in my life has ever felt like this. Frankie’s body gets me drunk, but her hold on me is so much deeper. She has me thinking bigger. Dreaming more. Seeing a life beyond the draft and what I might do on the ice. She makes me want to put good into the world. And with her at my side, I feel as though I can.

I need to get out of this room before her dad comes home. Before her mom and Anthony wake up. This isn’t the way I want her family finding out about us. They deserve to hear the reasons we care about each other. And yeah, Anthony maybe has a right to get up in my face, but his displeasure won’t matter to me. I’m not ending my pursuit of his sister. I’ve held back for too long.

I slip my arm from under Frankie’s head, and she stirs, rubbing her eyes and cracking them open to look at me.

“No, don’t go,” she moans. Her naked body is so hot against mine, but for the last hour, her tits have been growing harder in the cool air. I may have tasted one as she slept, blowing on it just to watch it pucker.

“If I don’t get out of here now, the sun will come up and this will be the spot of my death,” I joke—not really joking.

“Yeah, but?—”

She wraps her hand around my cock, which is still hard. It hasn’t softened all night.

“Woman, you will be my end,” I groan against her lips. I let her stroke me a few times, and I slide my hand between her legs, feeling how slick she is. So ready. So wet.

Mentally, I’m calculating how quickly I can make her come before I must leave. But my brain is thankfully firing enough to know that if we start this again, I’m not going to do anything quickly. I’m going to taste her and tease her. And make her late for the photo booth and cause her family to wonder why she hasn’t left her room.

“Fuck, I have to,” I say, pulling our lips apart. Her hand slides over the end of my cock, and I twist in her bed, swinging my feet to the floor to give my devil’s side some space from temptation.

Running my palm over my face, I smile into my hand as she trails her fingers up my spine, sitting up and pressing her lips to the back of my neck.

“Thank you,” she hums.

I chuckle softly.

“For what? Fucking you until you were exhausted or?—”

“For everything,” she whispers. “For taking care of me when I’m sick, and for running the booth yesterday. And for helping to raise money for our community and being a real Santa to people who need one.”

Her hand snakes around my side to my chest, and I bring it up to my lips.

“You make me better,” I say.

We sit in the most comfortable silence for several long seconds.

“And thank you for fucking me,” she finally says, breaking it up and causing me to laugh a little louder than I want.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, yeah? And then maybe tonight you can come with me and my mom to pick out a tree. I think my mom misses the pine scent. My dad usually hauls it home and sets it up, but he won’t be home until March.”

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