Chapter 27 #2
And then I’m shaking with laughter as he grabs the piglet and hides her under one of his pillows, his big hands grabbing my hips as he buries his face in the curve of my neck.
“Caden!” I giggle, panting breathlessly as he sucks my skin, and his large hands roam up to my breasts, squeezing them roughly as he bites back a groan.
And then he’s towering over me again, his irises sparkling as he holds his weight on his elbows, his gaze flicking to the neckline of my dress as he works out how to unfasten it.
He stares at it for a beat, before tentatively hooking two fingers around the bow in the centre, giving it a small experimental tug and clearing his throat when the bodice tightens.
“Baby,” he rumbles quietly, “how do I take this off of you?”
I guide his hands and his cheekbones darken. “Just tug the bow,” I whisper.
His jaw clenches, fumbling with the ribbon, and then he grunts as he rips it open, tugging the dress slowly off my shoulders and pushing it carefully down my thighs.
He drops it absently on top of his suit jacket, and his shoulders heave as he looks me over.
“Jesus,” he murmurs, his gaze burning into my bra as he finishes unbuttoning his shirt, his deft fingers flicking each fastening quickly as I reach for his belt buckle and he widens his quads.
He rips the last two buttons with a rough exhale and then he shucks the shirt down his biceps, watching as I slip the tongue of his dark belt through the heavy metal buckle.
He discards the shirt without a second glance and his broad chest heaves as he covers my fingers with his, confidently tugging the long strip of leather from his pants as he looks me over.
But unlike the shirt and the jacket which were discarded in a hurried pile, he carefully winds the belt around his fist, his breathing laboured as he bears down on me.
And warmth spreads through my chest when I realise why he’s being so careful with the belt… because it’s the belt that I bought him this Christmas.
I bite back a smile as I stroke his biceps, loving the flex of his tan muscles beneath my fingers.
“It’s the only one I wear now,” he rumbles, and I can’t help but smile at how perfect he is.
“I’m glad that you like it,” I say softly.
He sets it down on his nightstand. “I love it, baby.”
Then he’s ranging his body over mine, gathering me against his abdomen as he hunches down to kiss me, and his large palm splays across my lower back as he shifts his hips between my thighs.
His shoulders swell as I reach between us, slowly stroking the large ridge beneath his suit pants, and he moans as he kisses my throat, his broad body heaving faster and faster.
I ease the zipper down his pants and he rasps out a laugh as his length pushes free, still constricted beneath his boxer briefs but no longer confined to his dark hockey suit.
“That feels good,” he says deeply, his voice gravelly as I push down his pants, and his large quad muscles press warm and solid against the soft skin of my inner thighs.
He caresses my nape in the palm of his hand and my cheeks dimple as leans down to kiss me, his warm mouth moving firmly against mine as I toe his pants and socks away from his ankles.
His other hand roams down to my butt, and he groans huskily as I slip my fingers beneath his boxers.
“Winter,” he rumbles, kissing me softly as I caress his length, and he licks his tongue against the tip of mine, his breathing laboured as I start to stroke him.
“Not too much of this,” he rasps, his biceps bunching as he shoves down his boxers, and then his jaw falls slack as he watches me work him, his chest staining red as it pumps up and down.
Then he tugs my bra-strap with a brush of his thumb and he rumbles quietly when it exposes my breasts.
He growls softly, lowering his head, and I arch my back as he kisses my nipple, sucking it gently into his mouth as his dark stubble scrapes over my skin.
His fingers fumble at the back of my bra and, a moment later, he flicks it open, chucking it away from the bed with a grunt as he moves over to my other breast.
My thighs clench and I squeeze his base, eliciting a rough groan from deep in his throat, and his large palms caress my waist as he sucks me slowly, pull after pull.
“Caden,” I whimper quietly, and he rumbles deeply as he lifts his head, his beautiful body expanding with need as he thrusts languidly into my hand.
He pushes his body upright, towering over me, and he shoves his fringe back as he catches his breath, the heat from his abdomen keeping me warm as I look up at him from the cage of his biceps.
“You’ve gotten bigger,” I whisper, and his dimple flickers as he kisses my lips.
He reaches for the dresser but keeps his eyes on mine as he rumbles, “What d’you mean?”
“Everything,” I whisper, entranced. “Your biceps, your shoulders, your chest…”
Even the enormous quad muscles pushing between my thighs are more swollen than they were two months ago.
His mouth curves up as he closes the drawer, looking me over as he tears the black packet.
“We increased the weights,” he rumbles, tipping out the condom, and he steels his jaw as he removes my hand so that he can roll on the protection. “D’you like it?” he asks, and I bite back my smile as I nod, pulling him closer as he settles on top of me and smooths a large palm over my chest.
He caresses me reverently for a moment, tugging softly with big rough hands, before trailing lower, down my waist and stomach, and grunting quietly as he kisses my neck.
And then that large palm slips down the front of my panties, and his broad chest heaves with a soft groan.
“So beautiful,” he rumbles, his voice deep in the snow-silenced room, and then he’s pushing my underwear down my legs, widening his quads, and kissing me slow.
I kiss him back and then I’m laughing when one big hand reaches down to squeeze my butt, that large tan palm caressing me firmly as he chuckles softly against my throat.
“I want you,” I whisper breathlessly, and his smile-creases flex as he meets my eyes, his broad chest pumping steadily in the beautiful lamp-light as he inhales deeply and shoves back his hair.
And I can’t help but beam up at him because he has the most stunning smile that I’ve ever seen.
“Yeah?” he murmurs, gently tucking his hand into my soft pink curls, and his other palm moves up my thigh before he grips his length, stroking slow.
“Yeah,” I whisper back to him, and he exhales roughly before kissing my neck, groaning quietly as he settles on top of me and gathers my body flush against his chest.
He guides his length to where we both need it, his shoulders heaving as I clutch him tighter, and as soon as I whisper how good he feels he’s grunting roughly and thrusting inside.
“Caden,” I gasp, and his chest heaves as he bottoms out, his eyes half-mast as he holds his weight and he curses softly as he kisses my throat.
“This okay?” he rumbles deeply, and the bedframe creaks as he grips my hips.
“Yes,” I whisper breathlessly, and he exhales roughly as he starts to thrust.
My thighs clench tighter around his middle as I wrap my arms around his back, and he growls in deep-seated pleasure as I dig my heels into his ass.
His biceps strain and his shoulders swell as he caresses his rough palms gently over my breasts, his eyes hungry and half-mast as he pumps slowly between my thighs.
I lift one hand to his stubbled jaw and he rumbles in pleasure as he lowers his mouth to mine, gripping the pillow beside my cheek so that he can hold his weight and deepen his thrusts.
I gasp, my thighs tightening, and he bites possessively into my lower lip, the mattress creaking quietly beneath us with the rhythmic roll of his hips.
I arch my neck and grip his forearm, and his eyes blaze as they flash to my shaking hand, the dark tattoo that I etched into his skin flexing dangerously underneath my touch.
He stares at it for a long beat and then his eyes flick down to mine, making my heartbeat thunder.
“That day,” he rumbles, his voice deep as he grips my thighs. “That day at the tattoo studio. I fucking loved it, baby.”
“Why?” I whisper softly.
“Because you did the tattoo.”
I swallow breathlessly as he kisses my neck, and I arch beneath him, making him groan.
“I want you to do it again,” he rumbles, his voice rough as he meets my eyes, and my fingertips caress over the tattoo as he hunches down for a deeper kiss.
“Okay,” I pant quietly, and he growls, thrusting faster. “And maybe,” I whisper softly, “maybe you could do one for me, too.”
He inhales roughly as he meets my eyes, his irises blazing. “No fucking way.”
I bite my lip and whisper, “Why not?”
“You’re too precious. I can’t fuck that up.”
“You won’t,” I promise breathlessly. “And it’ll just be something small.”
“You’re an artist,” he pants gruffly. “I can just about hold a hockey stick.”
“Caden,” I laugh, and he tries not to chuckle as he shakes his head.
“No,” he rumbles, again for good measure.
I trail my fingers down his chest. Then I press a kiss to his jaw and softly whisper, “We’ll see.”
He swallows roughly, but doesn’t argue with me, and he chuckles huskily as I lick his tattoo, his fingers tangling up in my hair as he pumps harder, groaning with need.
He drops his weight onto one of his elbows, watching as I trail my tongue gently over his ink.
“Baby,” he rumbles, breathing unsteadily as I tease him, and then he’s cupping my jaw in his large palm and kissing my lips, soft and sweet.
My thighs tighten and his chest swells, both of us breathless as he lifts my hips, and then the building heat in my body explodes, making me gasp as I reach my peak.
He pounds deep, pulsing and groaning, until his restraint snaps and he finally comes.
He holds me tighter, gathering me against his chest, and he grinds into me until he’s spent, dropping his body protectively on top of mine with a deep exhale and swallowing hard.
He keeps one palm on my lower back, rubbing me gently as he eases out, and he caresses his other hand around my nape, sighing softly as he kisses my lips.
My lashes flutter closed.
“I already know where I want my tattoo,” I whisper.
He makes a sound that’s half-laugh half-growl, and he lifts himself onto his elbow so that he can tower over me.
I thread my fingers through his dark hair and a contented rumble reverberates through his chest.
“We’ll talk about that later,” he murmurs, his voice deep and husky in the cozy room, and I press a little kiss to the tip of his nose, making him chuckle as I stroke his jaw.
“Okay,” I whisper, and then I pull him down to kiss me again, my heart warm and squeezing tight as he laughs softly and caresses my lips.
“I love you,” he rumbles gently.
My cheeks dimple. “I love you, too.”