Page 91 of Crush
Shea tried to give me what I needed, but soon he began to slow. He shook his head, disappointed in himself, and the steely determination in the athlete's eyes began to fade.
“I can't, babe,” he whispered in my ear, his voice sweet like honey yet coarse like sand. “You're gripping me so tight. If I go any harder, I'll come.”
“So?” I whispered in his ear. “Do it. Come inside me, Shea.”
He liked hearing that. His eyes rolled back and he threw his head to the sky and he growled andfinally,Shea gaveallof himself to me. Faster, harder, deeper—the captain's big dick turned as hard as marble inside me as he fucked me with everything he had left.
My limbs quaked and I screamed, “I'm going to come!”
Shea's heavy body crashed into mine again and again. I couldn't take it anymore—the pleasure boiled over and my senses plunged into pure ecstasy.
“I'm coming!” I shrieked.
Shea let out a manly roar, and his frenzied pace ground to a halt. Deep inside me, Shea's cock pulsed with his release, coating my insides with his seed. I clenched his thickness as tight as I could, never wanting to let go.
“Yes,” I moaned, our mingling juices trickling down my ass cheeks.
Shea was spent. He collapsed on top of me, and I wrapped my arms around his barrel of a chest. We were a sweaty, breathless heap of flesh.
Chapter 34
Shea
With the late-morning sun stabbing through the bedroom window curtains, I woke in bed, still naked. My muscles were heavy and tired. My skin was sticky, a layer of dried sweat and sex fluids.
Not that I minded—the tired, grungy haze was a delicious reminder of a long,longnight. After months of tension, we couldn't just screwonceand then roll over and fall asleep, could we? Instead, our rough-and-tumble romp was only an appetizer to a night filled with amazing sex. From sweet and soulful lovemaking, to downright dirty on all-fours on the bedroom floor, we finally did everything we'd been secretly wanting to do to each other all along—and everything in between.
Once we saw the first light of day cracking the horizon, wefinallymanaged to keep our hands and mouths off each other long enough to fall asleep.
Brynn laid on her side, facing away from me. She was still sleeping, and still naked, too. I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her into me.
“Mm,” she moaned as I woke her. “Morning, Shea.”
I nibbled on her earlobe. “Morning, beautiful.”
“Do you have hockey practice today?” she asked sleepily.
I had to stop and think—I couldn't remember. Truth was, hockey was the furthest thing on my mind. And while we were in the playoffs, too? Strange. Maybe I really was ready to retire. I guess it hadn't hit me until that moment. But I didn't feel old for once—the opposite, actually. Young and fresh and ready to move on.
“No,” I answered, remembering at last. “Coach gave us the day off to rest up.”
“Oh, good,” she said with a breath of relief. “Because if you're as tired as I am … it wouldn't have been much fun.”
I kissed the nape of her neck. “You sleep in. I'll make breakfast.”
She started to kick her legs to toss the bedsheets away. “But that's my job—”
I pulled the sheets back up her body and tucked her in nice and tight. “No, it's not. Not anymore.”
“Because you're firing me?” she asked, always a tease.
“If that's what it takes to keep you,” I said with a grin, “yes. You're fired.”
“Oh, good,” she sang, snuggling up with the bedsheets.
***
I woke Brynn an hour later with a breakfast-in-bed tray: scrambled eggs, sausage links, bagel with cream cheese, a fruit and cheese plate, and coffee. For a lousy cook, it was the biggest feast I could whip up.
