Bottles & Blades (Eagles Hockey: Oak Ridge Vineyards #1)

Chapter 26

Twenty-Six

Jean-Michel

Fuck, she’s pretty.

Legs limp and spread wide around my shoulders.

Pussy pink and swollen and slick from my mouth.

Tits bouncing as she struggles to catch her breath.

She lifts her head, managing to tuck her elbows under her—and fuck, her looking down at me like that…

My dick throbs, wanting to be where my fingers are?—

Deep in liquid heat.

Being squeezed tight.

“That was…” Her already red cheeks flare brighter. I don’t push her to finish her statement, just wait until she finds the words to complete her train of thought. “…incredible.”

My dick twitches again.

Yeah, I can’t lie. That makes me feel like a fucking god.

“So much better than my vibrator,” she whispers. Then she seems to realize what she’s said and drops back onto the bed, covering her face with her hands, her legs trying to close, a groan slipping from her lips.

I want to halt her movements, but she put a lot of trust in me over the last half hour.

So, I give her that play, slipping from between her lush thighs, crawling up beside her, drawing her into my arms, then gently smoothing my hand up and down her back. Though, I can’t help but ask, “You use a vibrator?”

“Oh, God,” she says, groaning again, burrowing her face into my chest.

Grinning, I bring her closer. “Will you show me sometime?”

Another groan.

I chuckle softly, kiss the top of her head. “No rush. We’ll get there.”

“What if I don’t want to get there?”

The question is very quiet, but I still hear it. I shift back, cup her jaw in my hand, tilting her face up so that I can meet her eyes. “Then we don’t go there.”

Her lips part on an exhale.

“I meant what I said, buttercup. You’re calling the shots.”

“What if I don’t want that? ” Teeth pressing into the corner of her mouth. “To call the shots?”

I relax because her eyes are dancing.

She’s teasing me.

Giving me more.

God, she’s sweet.

“Oh,” I say, “you’ll want that, baby.”

She giggles quietly then lifts her hand, settling it on my chest, shifting closer, leg brushing my cock.

Which is still rock fucking hard.

Because I want her.

Because I’m not going to give in to my dick and take more from her—not tonight, anyway.

“You didn’t—” Her hand starts to snake down between us.

I recognize her intent in a second, and I desperately want to feel those soft fingers wrapped around my cock.

That’s not what this is about, though.

I catch her hand, draw it back up, pressing a kiss to her palm before I return it to my chest. “Another time, buttercup.”

“But that’s twice, I’ve?—”

“Another time,” I repeat.

She sighs. “I’m not going to change your mind, am I?”

“Nope.” But to soften that, I kiss her lightly. “This was about you,” I tell her. “Not me.”

Her breath hitches.

“You good with that?”

She nibbles at her bottom lip. “No,” she whispers.

“Baby.” I cup her jaw again. “Tell me.”

“More orders?” She rolls her eyes.

I just repeat, “Tell me.”

“I just…” A breath. “I guess maybe I was feeling a little insecure that I’m getting something that you’re not…and then maybe I was thinking that even though I was…lost in needing that…in getting that…” Her gaze slides away from mine. “Then maybe I was thinking that you didn’t want it as much or at all or?—”

She squeaks.

Because I’ve snagged her hand and dragged it back down between us.

Down to where my dick is trying to rip its way through my underwear.

“Feel that?” I ask, trying to resist the urge to thrust into her palm—and failing miserably—but at least I swallow down my groan.

“Yes,” she whispers, her hand flexing on me.

My hips jerk and this time I can’t keep my groan quiet.

And I see the moment it hits her, the moment she realizes how deep I’m in for her, how much power she has over me.

It slides into her eyes, her tempting smile, the way she tightens her grip.

Fuck.

All of that erodes my control.

It would be so easy to get rid of my underwear, to spread her legs and plunge deep, to give us what we both need.

“You’re dangerous, buttercup,” I mutter, snagging her hand and bringing it back up to my chest.

“So if I asked you to—” Her eyes flick down and then back up.

I kiss her, wet and deep and long. “I’d say yes,” I admit. “Because I can’t tell you no. But”—I touch her cheek—“though it would feel fucking incredible, it wouldn’t be as perfect as it should be, as I want it to be. And it wouldn’t be what I want it to be.” A beat. “Do you get why?”

Her eyes study mine for a long moment.

Then she shifts closer, presses her lips to mine.

“I get why, honey.” She tilts her head, studying me. “Though, I don’t get why you picked up my phone.”

A change in subject.

I should be relieved.

My control isn’t at risk of being unraveled, not any longer.

Unfortunately, her statement reminds me of her mother’s entitlement and sharp words, and I feel my calm start to slide away. “We need to talk about that, buttercup. Need to talk about your mom and why she thinks it’s okay to speak to you like that.”

Her inhale is sharp. “Jean-Mi, she doesn’t?—”

“I don’t care who she is or what she did, I’m in your life now.” I tilt her chin up again. “And that means I will not let anyone talk to you like that, not even her. Not for any reason.”

She’s quiet, back to studying my face.

“What?”

She just shakes her head. “I’m trying to figure out who you are and where you came from.”

My chuckle rumbles up in my chest. “Not sure I have the answers to give you on that front.”

“Though,” she says quietly, shifting closer, tangling her legs with mine. “I’m starting to think that maybe you’re all I’ve been waiting for and everything I never thought I’d have.”

Those words?—

Fuck, they settle hard and deep and?—

“I know you’re that for me,” I say, giving her words that aren’t prudent, aren’t safe, aren’t smart. But I give them anyway.

“Oh,” she whispers, pretty brown eyes gorgeous and soft.

My mouth curves and I lean in, brush my lips over hers, murmuring, “Smart.”

I reach back, turn off the light, gather her close again. “Sweet.” I smooth back her hair. “Kind.” I kiss her forehead. “Funny.” Settle my chin on the top of her head as I hold her tight. “ Beautiful .”

My eyes grow heavy, oblivion starts to creep in, and that’s when I hear her whispered words.

“No, that’s you, Jean-Mi.”

I hold her even closer as sleep takes me under.