Page 187 of Check & Chase
“Creep,” she mumbles. “You watching me sleep again?”
“Just making sure I didn’t dream last night.” I trace the line of her jaw. “That this is real.”
Her eyes open fully, green and clear. She lifts her hand, examining the ring with a small smile. “Very real.”
I pull her closer. “Best morning of my life.”
“Mmm.” She nestles into my chest, her breath warm against my skin. “Better than winning the conference finals?”
“Miles better.” I kiss the top of her head. “It’s better than anything.”
We lie tangled together, skin to skin, savoring the moment. Yesterday seems like a fever dream—the game, the win, the proposal, the photographs that are probably plastered across every sports site by now.
“Practice in two hours,” I murmur regretfully, trailing my fingers down her spine.
She makes a discontented noise against my chest. “Skip it.”
“Can’t. Stanley Cup Finals, remember?”
“Excuses.” She raises her head, and there’s something wicked in her smile. “Your fiancée wants morning sex, Mitchell. Game two isn’t until tomorrow.”
My body responds instantly to her words, to the deliberate press of her hips against mine. “Well, when you put it that way…”
Her laugh is low and throaty as she slides down my body, disappearing beneath the sheets. The first touch of her mouth against my cock makes me groan, fingers tangling in her hair.
“Fuck, Emma.”
Her lips wrap around me, her hot, wet mouth making me groan deep in my chest. I can feel her tongue swirling around the tip, teasing the sensitive underside, and I thrust up instinctively, burying myself deeper into her throat. The sensation is fucking electric, her mouth moving with a rhythm that has me moaning like a fucking teenager.
“Fuck,” I hiss, my fingers tangling in her hair. “God, your mouth feels so fucking good,” I mutter. She hums around my cock, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure straight to my core. I can feel myself getting closer, the pressure building with every stroke of her tongue, every suck of her lips.
She pulls back slightly, her mouth dragging up the length of my shaft, and then she takes me back down, her cheeks hollowing as she swallows me whole. The slurping sounds are obscene, and I can’t help but jerk my hips, fucking her face.
“Jesus Christ, Blondie,” I gasp, my cock throbbing as she works me over. “You’re going to make me fucking come.”
She moans around me, and I push her down more, forcing her to take me deeper.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chant, my balls tightening as I feel the familiar pressure building in my gut.
But just as I’m about to tip over the edge, I yank her off me, pulling the covers back to reveal her flushed face and swollen lips. She looks up at me, eyes glazed with desire, her mouth wet and glistening with saliva.
Fucking hell.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Why did you stop?” she pouts, her lower lip jutting out in a way that makes me want to kiss her.
“I don’t want to come in your mouth, Blondie,” I growl, my voice rough with need. My cock is still throbbing painfully as I swing my legs over the side of the bed.
She raises an eyebrow at me, her lips curling into a smirk. “Oh? Where do you want to come then?”
I don’t answer her. Instead, I stalk over to my suitcase, rummaging through it until I find what I’m looking for. Turning back to her, I toss it onto the bed, the fabric landing in a heap beside her. I watch her eyes widen as she realizes what it is—my hockey jersey.
“Put it on.”
She slips it on slowly, her fingers tracing the familiar logo. The fabric clings to her curves in all the right places. The hem barely grazes the tops of her thighs, leaving her long, shapely legs exposed. My cock twitches at the sight of her in my jersey, and fucking hell, this has been my fantasy since the first time she wore it.
“Come here,” I say, pulling her into my arms and crushing my mouth to hers. I kiss her hard, my hands gripping her waist as I press her against the bed.
