Page 75 of Famous Last Words
Okay, apparently that was all the encouragement I needed because I’m suddenly lowering myself, gasping the second I feel his face right there, his tongue getting straight down to business.
“Is this okay?” I ask around a gasp. “Are you okay? Robbie?”
He murmurs against me, but I can’t understand a word he’s saying. His hands move to my ass, and he positions me a little better so that I can at least see his eyes, and when I find them looking at me in a way that tells mehe’s more than okay, it’s only then I start to relax.
“Oh my God,” I shudder. It feels different. Better. I can feeleverything.
Gripping the headboard, I move my hips ever so slightly, seeking.
Robbie groans, his fingers digging into my thighs.
I grind a little harder against his tongue, and he sucks on my clit, biting it softly.
Throwing my head back, I’m on the verge of losing my ever-loving shit, black spots dotting my vision.
“Oh my fucking God, Robbie!” My voice is shrill, frenzied. “I can’t—” I suck in a breath, choking on my own moan.
More muffled sounds come from underneath me, vibrating against my pussy.
“I’m so close. Don’t stop. Please don’t ever…fucking… stop!” When I look down, meeting Robbie’s eyes, it’s a combination of the ministrations of his lips, tongue, and teeth, the sounds he’s making, and the look of raw, unfiltered sex in his eyes that tips me over the edge. The coil at the base of my belly unfurls, and a wave of bliss courses through me as my entire world is tipped upside down.
“I’m coming. I’m coming. I’m…coming!” I cry out, my voice feral, thighs trembling, back arching. I let go of the headboard and my fingers find Robbie’s hair, holding onto him for dear life as he works me through my release, taking everything until I’m far too sensitive and begging him to stop.
Flopping onto the bed, I’m a depleted mess. A shell. My entire body is boneless and still trembling as aftershocks shudder through me. I try to catch my breath, but it’s like I’ve just run a marathon, and I am absolutely not a runner.
Robbie pushes up on his elbows, looking down at me and holy shit, he looks so fucking sexy. Dark hair mussed and sticking up in every direction, cheeks flushed, eyes heavily hooded, my release glistening all over his mouth and chin.
He flashes me a satisfied smirk. “That was so fucking hot.”
I cover my face with a hand. I’m not embarrassed. Surprisingly. I probably should be. I mean, I didn’t just sit on the man’s face; I rode it like it was a mechanical bull. But I’m not embarrassed at all. In fact, I think I’m the opposite of embarrassed. And I’m a little scared because I’ve never felt this comfortable with any man before. And fuck knows what that means.
Turning into the pillows to the tune of Robbie’s laughter, I try to swat at him. But he grabs my hand and launches himself at me, nuzzling into my neck with a few sloppy kisses. And I don’t know what this is between us, but I don’t think it’s quite asfakeas we initially intended it to be…
CHAPTER 30
ROBBIE
After our win against the Storm, we stay in the lobby bar to celebrate because it’s too fucking cold in Nova Scotia to leave the hotel. But after an hour or so, there’s a nauseating hint of perfume and desperation hanging thick in the air from the ambitious puck bunnies who have somehow managed to sneak their way in. After two beers I pretended to drink, I dip out without saying anything and head up to my room.
By the time I brush my teeth and change into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, it’s almost midnight. And, because I’m apparently a pussy-whipped asshole, I try my luck with a message to Fran in the hope that she’s still awake, for reasons I care not to admit.
Me: You up?
I find myself staring at the screen with bated breath, and I momentarily hate myself. But then she replies, and my heart does this weird jump-thing that I can’t even begin to explain, and I hate myself even more.
Keller: Yeah, I just got home from work.
The skin at the back of my neck pricks at the thought of her coming home so late. Not only is her building lacking in basic security, but I swear, if she tells me she caught the goddamn subway home, I’m going to lose my fucking shit.
Me: How did you get home?
Keller: Uber.
I’m not entirely comfortable with her catching an Uber this late at night either, because fuck knows there’re a lot of creepy-ass drivers out there. But I guess it’s safer than the subway late at night.
Me: You know I’m really not a fan of you working nights.
Keller: Well, it’s a good thing you have absolutely no say over what I do with my life then, huh?
