Chapter 9 #4
Her fingers nail out across my naked skin, like an artist deciding where to paint. Every accidental scrape across my nipples sends my already raging cock into a screaming fit.
"Now the rest," I rasp.
She undoes my jeans, pushing them down along with my boxers until I'm as naked as she is.
My cock springs free, long and thick, pulsing with need. Her eyes widen, lips parting like she wasn’t expecting all of me. Pride punches hot in my chest, matched by an ache to make her believe I’ll fit her perfectly.
"Turn around," I say, guiding her back to face the mirror. "Look at us together now."
The image is striking—her soft curves against my harder planes, her pale skin contrasting with my tan. I'm significantly taller, broader, my hands massive against the delicate lines of her body. She rubs her ass against me, coaxing a guttural growl out of me.
"This is what everyone sees," I tell her, one hand sliding back between her legs. "When we walk down the street. When we're at the bistro. They see how perfectly we fit."
I find her clit again, circling it with steady pressure as my other hand cups her breast. In the mirror, she looks wanton, desperate, her head falling back against my shoulder as pleasure builds.
Her body awkwardly grinds back into mine, and I rock my hips forward so she can rub against my aching arousal.
"Eyes open," I remind her with a nip on her shoulder. "Watch yourself."
My fingers dip lower, testing her entrance before sliding two deep inside. She gasps, hips bucking against my hand.
The glass mirror reflects her wet, desperate pressing forward in the rhythm of sex, my rock-hard cock trapped behind her, still rubbing against her smooth skin as we sway back and forth in shuddering waves.
"That's it," I encourage, curling my fingers to hit that spot that makes her walls flutter. "Show me how much you want this. Want me."
Her eyes are glassy now, fixed on our reflection as I work her body with precision. I can feel how close she is, her inner muscles clenching around my fingers.
"Cam, please," she begs, voice breaking. "I want—please, I need you right now, so bad."
"I need you to touch me."
"I am touching you." I pull her closer.
"More," she gasps as I brush my fingers through the soft curls between her thighs. "I want more."
"I’ll give you more." I promise, plunging a third finger deep into her, stretching her tight pussy to relieve the frantic edge in her moans. The sexy, graceful motion of her body in the full glass mirror melts into a frantic deep lurch as my fingers stretch and probe her tight, warbling core.
She moans loudly, every inch of her wriggling in my arms, unable to hold still. Her nipples are so hard they almost itch and the only relief is to rake her nails across them, her body bucking high, still my fingers are buried deep.
I withdraw my fingers, turning her to face me. "Up."
Tara swallows hard. I lift her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her the few steps to the mirror.
Bracing her back against the cool glass, I position myself at her entrance.
"Watch the far wall over my shoulder," I instruct, my voice strained with the effort of holding back. "See what I see when I'm buried inside you. See how your body swallows mine, how your slick heat grips me like a fist"
I drive in deep, burying every inch. She gasps, tight around me, stretched to take my thickness. The sound of her wetness as I begin to move is obscene. I swear I’ll never forget this sound, this feeling, as long as I live.
"Oh—oh," she pants, nails digging into my shoulders, leaving half-moon marks that spur me on. Her eyes are wide, pupils blown with pleasure, and her lips, swollen from my kisses, fall open with each thrust.
I establish a rhythm, slow and deep, each thrust deliberate, allowing her to feel every ridge, every vein of my cock as it drags against her sensitive flesh. Her breasts heave with each breath, her hard nipples grazing my chest.
In the mirror behind me, she can see where we're joined, can see the thick glisten of my cock disappearing inside her again and again. Her eyes are locked on the sight, her cheeks flushed with arousal and wonder.
"That's it, Tara," I encourage, voice rough with exertion and desire. “You’re so tight, baby. So perfect around me. Look at you, taking all of me like you were made for it.”
Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, and her inner walls clench around me in response. I can feel her wetness coating my shaft, can see it on my cock as I pull out slightly before driving deeper, making her cry out.
I shift my angle slightly, driving deeper, and she whimpers.
"You feel incredible," I growl, feeling her tightening, seeing her hips lift to meet my thrusts, eager for more. Her clit is swollen, peeking out from its hood, begging for attention.
Then I turn her around and walk her towards the bed, her body impaled and spread open by me. Her breasts bounce with each step, her breath coming in short gasps. My hands grip her ass, supporting her, feeling the firm flesh yielding to my touch.
I lift her onto the bed, positioning her so she can see herself in both mirrors—the one above, showing her flushed body writhing beneath me, and the one across from us, showing the lewd stretch of her pussy lips around my cock.
"Keep your eyes open," I command, settling between her thighs. "I want you to see everything. See how your body takes me, see the wetness on my cock, on your thighs."
I pull myself out of her heat, my cock shiny with her arousal, and kiss my way down to her inner thighs, tasting her, teasing her. Her hips lift, seeking my mouth, her breath coming in desperate pants.
When I finally put my mouth on her, she cries out, her hands flying to my hair, holding me in place as she grinds against my tongue.
In the mirrors, I can see her face—the way her mouth falls open, the flush spreading down her chest, the arch of her back as she presses up against my tongue.
Her eyes are on her reflection, watching as I work her with my mouth and fingers until she's shaking, until she's right on the edge.
"Look at yourself, Tara," I tell her, lifting my head just enough to speak.
"See how perfect you are like this. See your nipples, hard and begging for my mouth.
See your pussy, wet and ready for my cock.
" She opens her eyes, meets her own gaze in the ceiling mirror, and moans louder at what she sees.
Her hips lift, seeking more friction, her body trembling with need.
I work her with my mouth and fingers until she's shaking, until she's right on the edge, then I pull back.
"Cam, no—please," she begs, her eyes wild, her body trembling with unfulfilled need.
"Not yet," I say. "I want to be inside you when you come.”
I settle over her, bracing myself on my forearms, and slowly push inside.
She's wet and tight and perfect, and watching her face in the mirror as I fill her is better than any victory I've ever experienced on the ice.
Her mouth opens in a silent gasp, her eyes flutter closed, and her inner walls grip me like a vice.
"So good," I groan, setting a slow, deep rhythm. My teeth tugging on her nipple, making her hips lift up to meet my thrusts.
I watch her eyes flick between the mirrors, watching us from different angles. The sight of our bodies moving together, the sound of her soft moans, the feeling of her wrapped around me—it's almost too much.
"Harder," she whispers, flashing me with her blue eyes, her nails digging into my shoulders, leaving marks that make my cock twitch. "Please, Cam, this is so hot—I can see everything, feel everything—"
I give her what she needs, driving into her with increasing intensity, both of us lost in the visual feast surrounding us. Every thrust, every kiss, every desperate touch reflected back at us from multiple angles. Her breasts bounce with each thrust, her head thrown back in abandon.
"That’s it. Take all of me. You were made for this—made for me." I growl, feeling her begin to tighten again. Her body is slick with sweat, her breath coming in short gasps.
"Let go, sweetheart. Let me feel you come." I tell her, my voice hoarse with need.
When she finally breaks, it's with my name on her lips and her eyes locked on our reflection.
Her body convulses, her inner walls clamping down on my cock, her back arching, her breasts thrusting upwards.
The sight of her—uninhibited, wild, mine—pushes me over the edge, and I follow her into oblivion, emptying myself deep inside her with a guttural groan, claiming her in every way I can.
For long moments, we stay locked together. Our bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. Slowly, carefully, I pull out and gather her close, feeling her heartbeat against my chest.
"Still with me, Rookie?" I murmur, brushing damp hair from her flushed face. Her skin is hot, and she’s still trembling with aftershocks.
She nods, looking dazed and thoroughly debauched. "That was..."
"Memorable?" I suggest, a smile tugging at my lips. Her body is marked by me, her hips and thighs bearing the signs of my grip, her shoulders the imprints of my teeth.
A breathless laugh escapes her. "Definitely that."
For a while, we just breathe together, coming down from the high. My hand traces lazy patterns on her back, memorizing the feel of her skin, the exact curve of her spine.
"Teammates, huh?" I finally murmur, teasing-soft against her hair. "Guess that makes this overtime."
To my surprise and delight, instead of pushing back or protesting, she laughs—a real, genuine laugh that seems to bubble up from somewhere deep and unguarded. It's the sound of walls coming down, of armor being set aside, just for now, just for me.
As her laughter fades into contented silence, I make a silent vow to remember this moment, no matter what my broken brain tries to take from me. This feeling, this woman, this unexpected peace in the middle of our storm—this is worth fighting for.