Page 78 of These Wicked Games
A low chuckle rumbles from his chest and he snaps his hips hard. I cry out. My eyes roll back. He leans down, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood. “Be a goodzaykaand take my cock.”
“I fucking hate you,” I snap, straining against him. He gets back down on his knees, leaning over me. Slamming his mouth over mine, it’s so fucking filthy, and I whimper into his mouth kind of proving him right. It is what I want. What we both want. The collision of our bodies turns desperate. I feel every inch of him inside me. I try to reach for him until he grabs my wrists, pinning them above me. “Wrap your legs around me.”
I’m his to command and we both know it. My thighs tremble around his waist. My heels press into his ass. He fucks me hard, and I choke out his name on a loop like I’m summoning a spirit.
I’m so fucking close and he hasn’t even touched my cock. His hands stay locked on my wrists. The heat of our bodies is intense and sweat slicks his skin as he pummels into me. Those blue eyes grow unfocused. Oli’s loud, unashamed, not immune to how good this feels. He moans roughly with each thrust. I’ve had tops who’ve barely made a sound during sex, but Oli’s pleasure rumbles out of him.
His hips pick up speed, and his free hand slides down my sternum, down my stomach, running through the sticky mess my cock is making. Bringing those fingers to his lips, he groans around them. “Please.”
“Just because you asked so nicely.” He takes my cock in hand, stroking it, and it only takes a few passes before I vibrate with the need to come. “You need to come, darlin’?” Fuck, I do not need to get used to these names. I nod, though, like the obedient puppy I am. I need something. Anything. My balls pull tight, and with one heated look Oli gives me permission. “Come on my cock.”
I come on a long groan, my back arching, my wrists straining in his grip. My body shudders around him, my ass squeezing his cock. I feel him thicken inside me. Tremors wreck me first, then I tremble violently. “Come inside me.”
Oli lets my wrists go, then leans down to kiss me hard. His thrusts become desperate. I claw at his back before my hands squeeze his ass, guiding him inside me. “Fuck, you feel insane,” I whisper in his ear. His face fits into my neck and his breaths quicken. He’s so fucking sexy. I feel owned. I feel like his.
“Fill me up.”
With that demand he groans against my neck. Heat floods my body. I love it. Love his cum inside me. I love the way it makes me feel. “No one . . .” he pants. “Will ever hurt you again. You hear me?” He kisses under my ear. “Except me.” He nips my lobe, pulling away to look down at me. “And only when you want me to.”
Heat hugs my eyes as Oli slips from my body, and I hate this feeling. I feel lost and empty, which is stupid. Oli doesn’t leave me,though. Instead, he stays above me, kissing my face before laying a gentle kiss on my lips. “Oli . . .”
“Spread your gorgeous legs.” I give in, because standing up is not in my near future, and quietly I love this part. I’m not sure why. Oli smiles, wide and bright. It’s a brilliant thing. He gets between my open thighs, lying on his side, then looks up at me. My thighs fall back further, one leg going over his side. His fingers trail between my cheeks, feeling the mess he made and slapping my hole lightly. Tiny zaps of pleasure make my softening dick jerk on my belly.
He turns his head, pressing slow kisses on the inside of my thigh, those fingers gently soothing my rim. It’s possessive, and fuck I like it. “I mean it, Dre.” His serious tone catches my attention. I meet those ocean eyes. “Anyone even looks at you weird, I’m kicking their fucking teeth in.” I grunt, feeling his fingers slip into my hole. Thick fingers massage my walls. He leans down, kissing the crease of my thigh before pressing his nose against my pubes, and he inhales with a groan. His fingers slip free and he gets up to hover over me.
I’m in awe. I can’t even speak. Three silly words float in my mind, but I won’t say them. I know he doesn’t feel them. Still, with the way he’s looking at me now, I can almost believe he might. “Oli—”
“Say it,zayka.”
“When I find out what that means, am I going to want to kick your ass?” He chuckles warmly, mischief in his stormy eyes. “So yes.”
“Say it, brat.” He kisses the side of my face.
“Say what?”
His gaze snags mine, not letting me looking away. “That you belong to me, Dre. Say it.”
I swallow, looking up at him, then pull him down to kiss me. He nearly collapses on top of me, lying between my spread thighs. I hug him close and never want to let go. Now that I have this, I can’t possibly walk away from it. I don’t want to. I never want to.
So I give in, because I’m done fighting with him.
“I’m yours, Oli.”
twenty-three
Oli
Sunlight pours into my room nudging me awake. It takes a second to register the body next to me, but when my brain comes back online I fucking smile. Rolling onto my side to face Andre, my fingers reach out to touch him. He’s on his stomach, arms buried under his pillow, and his brown skin shimmers in the sunlight pouring through the window. He’s so fucking beautiful, and if my brain serves me right, I told him last night that he’s mine.
I have no clue what the fuck I meant by that, but it feels right.
Thinking about last night, my happy mood evaporates like smoke. Andre’s father,theTripp Ostrander, hockey legend and abusive fuck. I’m going to kill him. I don’t even have time to second-guess my life and the way I’ve looked up to him. I feel sick. When I was small, he seemed larger than life.
What this industry teaches you, though, is that looks are always deceiving. We have PR for a reason, and I believe every word Andre told me last night. Without question.
It broke my heart a bit when that shocked him. It’s stupid, though. Why wouldn’t he question me? We’ve been at each other’s throats for nearly a decade. I thought he’d ruined my life, and I’ve hated him so long for it. Now I know the truth. All those cocky smiles and arrogant words from him hid something fucking terrible. It’s sick how Tripp exploited our profession. Who’s going to question bruises on a hockey player? It’s like I’m playing back every single time I saw Andre wearing them. Never again.
Tripp will never touch him again.
