Page 73 of Slap Shot Scandal
“I’ve been thinking about this way more than I’d like to admit,” I murmur, inching the tip of my dick into her. “How tight and wet you’d be.”
She opens her legs wider, taking more of me in. “And?”
“You’re even better than I dreamed.” I push furtherinside, muscles tensing, then relaxing as I massage her ass. “That’s good, baby. Breathe.”
A tiny puff of air dusts my chest as she exhales, a pink blush coloring her cheeks.
“You’re doing so well.” I squeeze her ass, nipping at the delicate skin of her neck. She relaxes against me and I thrust all the way in until there’s no space left between us.
“Oh my god, Weston…” she whispers, almost reverently, and I’m literally in heaven. Harbor’s arms wrapped around me, my dick buried deep inside her.
Brushing a stray hair from her eyes, I touch my lips to hers. Soft at first, then harder and deeper. She squeezes my cock with her muscles and starts moving her hips, rocking against me.
Fuck, yeah.
I meet her thrust for thrust, matching her rhythm and pacing.
This woman’s absolute perfection, riding my cock like she owns me.
Which, in this moment, she 100% does.
Hands fly, our skin slapping as she rides me in the dark media room.
Harbor fucking Hayes, coming undone on my lap like a rowdy cowgirl. Riding me like it’s her motherfucking job.
I’m catapulting through space right now, white-hot sparks zinging through me, my balls tingling with the familiar pressure signaling a release.
Clutching her ass, I piston harder, faster, deeper, chasing the climax. I know she’s close—her face and chest flushed, breathing ragged, a light sheen of sweat beading at her brow.
I brush my lips against the shell of her ear and whisper, “Come for me, Harbor. Let go and fucking come.”
That’s all it takes to rocket her over the edge, muscles spasming as she cries out. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…”
I don’t let up, even as her body shakes against my chest. Instead, I drive harder into her hot, tight pussy. Harder, faster, and deeper, her nails clawing at my lats. I’m going to have scratch marks—may even be bleeding—but it will be worth it.
“Fuck me…” I hiss, finally exploding my release.
I slump against the cool leather chair, spent and sated, panting like I just did sprints.
“That was fucking fantastic…” I close my eyes and try to catch my breath, spasms of pleasure rolling through me.
Harbor trails her fingers over my chest, my abs, her breathing still uneven. For a perfect moment, the world outside this room doesn’t exist. No team, no cameras, no consequences.
I want to freeze time, hold her here. Just like this.
Her phone buzzes against the floor, shattering the spell. She stiffens against me, and the air around us shifts.
“That was…intense.” She eases off my lap, being careful not to dislodge the condom.
The cool air of the room hits my skin and suddenly, I’m chilled. Chilled and hyperaware that I’m naked and alone as she snatches her bra and panties from the floor, hastily throwing the undergarments back on.
Covering herself.
And there it is, the walls going back up. Professional Harbor reasserting control over the woman who just came apart in my arms.
I recognize the pattern because I’m about to do the same damn thing.
I wanted to hold onto this, to her, to the possibility of us. Like it could change something. But it doesn’t.
