Chapter 5 Jamie #2
“Yes.” I bear down harder on his finger. It’s not enough. I need more. I need his thick erection filling me, pushing against that sweet spot I never knew existed until last summer, when Ryan Wesley walked back into my life and showed me a new side of myself.
He adds another finger, stroking my channel and stretching me open until I’m burning up.
Until my vision wavers and my brain stops working.
“More,” I beg. It’s all I’m capable of saying.
More. More, more, more. I’m begging and Wes is still depriving me of what I want.
He’s grinding his erection against one of my ass cheeks as his fingers move inside me.
His other hand reaches around my chest and glides downward, swatting my hand away so he can grab hold of my dick.
“Jesus,” I hiss when he starts pumping.
“You like this, babe? Me jerking your cock while I finger your ass?”
I mumble something incoherent in response, which makes him laugh.
The husky sound warms the side of my neck, and then I jump when his teeth sink into my flesh.
Holy shit, he’s driving me crazy. He soothes the sting with his tongue, licking the tendons of my neck, kissing his way down to my shoulder, biting that, too.
“You ready for me?” he whispers.
An anguished groan slips out. “So fucking ready.”
With another chuckle, he withdraws his fingers and my entire body sags in disappointment, mourning the loss, craving the pressure again. Wes doesn’t make me wait long—in a heartbeat, his tip prods my ass, and then his big, lubed-up cock slips through the ring of muscle and plunges inside.
We both groan. His hands clutch my hips, long fingers digging into my skin as he slowly pulls out, then slams back in again.
“Fucking hell, Canning, I fucking love you so fucking much.” He sounds like he’s struggling to breathe, and when half his vocabulary is reduced to F-bombs, that means Wes is barely hanging on to his control.
But I love it when he loses control. I know I'm in for a wild ride and holy hell does he give it to me.
He pounds into me from behind, hips snapping, balls slapping my ass with each deep, desperate thrust. I sag forward, bent over the counter.
My cock is harder than the granite beneath my palms. I want to stroke it but Wes is drilling me so hard that I need both hands to brace myself.
He’s attuned to my needs, though, because he drops one hand from my waist and brings it to my impossibly hard dick.
Then he angles his hips in a way that has him hitting my prostate each time he drives forward.
“Come for me,” he orders. “Come all over my hand, Jamie. Let me feel it.”
I shoot so fast it’s almost comical. All it takes is Wes’s gravelly command and I come with a wild cry, soaking his hand just as he wanted.
As I shudder from the release, Wes growls, his thrusts growing more and more erratic.
Unskilled, utterly frantic, until finally he drops his head on my shoulder and trembles behind me.
I feel his release pulse inside me, and when he pulls out several moments later, my ass and thighs are sticky and we’re both quaking with laughter.
“That was…intense,” Wes says dryly.
I snort. “I think you just unloaded a gallon of jizz in me.” Not that I’m complaining.
I love knowing that I have the power to turn Wes into a sex-crazed maniac.
Even so, I still grumble a little as we spend the next five minutes cleaning up.
My own release was equally uncontrollable, leaving behind several pearly drops on the counter and cabinet beneath it.
I insist on scrubbing down the entire surface, while Wes teases me about having OCD.
“We eat on this thing, dude,” I remind him. “That’s not OCD, it’s basic cleanliness.”
He chuckles and continues scrubbing the floor with the rag and cleanser I hand him. “So what do you want to do tonight? Should we hit up that new restaurant Eriksson told me about?”
Toronto’s next home game is tomorrow, which means we actually have the entire day and night just for us.
And Tuesdays happen to be half-price ticket night at all the theaters in the city.
“Definitely,” I answer. “But we can go there after the movie. I don’t know how much longer it’ll be in theaters. ”
“Oh shit, The Long Pass? Yeah, you’re right.
We definitely need to see it tonight.” Remorse flickers in his expression, and I know he’s thinking about what happened the last time he had a night off.
I’d been dying to see that damn movie, but so had Wes, and he made me promise not to go without him.
Except when we finally had the opportunity to see it, Wes’s PR rep called him just as we were walking out the door and informed Wes that his presence was required at a last-minute press conference announcing a surprise trade in the organization. That was three weeks ago.
I don’t mention it, though, because I know he already feels like shit that he had to bail on our date night. “Okay, so how about we catch the seven o’clock show and then have a late dinner after?” I suggest.
“Sounds like a plan.” He grins at me. “So. Ready for round two? And then breakfast. We have to keep our strength up for the workout I’m giving you today and tonight.”
My gaze lowers to his crotch, and I raise a brow when I see the semi he’s sporting. “You’re a raging horndog this morning, huh?” But the sight of it has me hardening again, too, which only makes his grin widen.
“Pot, kettle, et cetera et cetera.” He steps forward and kisses me, then tugs me away from the counter.
Laughing, we leave the sparkling clean and semen-free kitchen and race toward our shower. For the first time in weeks, there’s a lightness in my chest. I just want to spend the entire day naked with my sex-crazed boyfriend.
But as I discover ten minutes later, you really can’t always get what you want.