Chapter 15 #3
The only thing sitting between us now is my thin, cotton underwear, which is quickly becoming soaked.
“Sunshine,” he growls, his fingers digging into my hips to press me further against him. “I want you to use me,” he informs, his tone completely different than the usual playful one he reserves for our moments alone. This one is rough and heady. Demanding.
“How?” I find myself asking, my gaze trained on his lips. I roll my hips once, and he nods.
“Just like that. I want you to use my body however you need until you come all over.”
My spine straightens, body stilling against him.
“What's wrong?” He asks, his brows pulling together as his fingers tighten. I feel his erection twitch beneath me from the loss of friction.
“Nothing. I've just never… You know.” I shrug. Too embarrassed to even admit it.
He loosens his grip. “You've never orgasmed?”
“I mean, no. What? Don't make it weird. Some people can't.” When his brows lift in surprise, I keep going. “I mean, I've tried, of course. By myself and with Brad.” He tenses at the name. “I just don't think it's possible.”
“Of course, it's possible.”
“Maybe not for me…”
But he just shakes his head, rejecting the thought. “Fuck that. Tonight, you're going to finish. Multiple times.”
“Mac, I'm perfectly happy–” I try to argue, but he interrupts me.
“No, Delaney. That's not how this is going to go. You deserve pleasure. You deserve to have someone take care of you for once.” His hands squeeze me again, and this time it's his hips that are grinding against mine in the most delicious way.
“I want to give you that. Let me do this for you. Please.”
I want to object. I'm usually too self-conscious to allow anyone near me…
down there. Especially after Brad tried a few times and I failed so miserably.
But he already feels so much better than Brad ever did.
It's like I could combust at any moment.
And something in Mac's expression has me biting my lip, preventing my protesting thoughts from spilling out.
He looks like a man who has finally found purpose. For the first time since he's arrived here, he looks determined. Not this version of him that's been floating around aimlessly. And as dumb as it sounds—as silly as this seems—I feel like I owe it to him to try.
“Fine,” I relent, that familiar heat building in my center all over again.
Mac wastes no time. He flips us on the bed so I'm on my back and he's hovering over me, his arms on either side of my head.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I stutter out, my hands scrambling for purchase on the bed.
Leaning forward, his lips meet mine once again, this time for a more gentle kiss that he pulls away from too soon.
Holding eye contact with that cocky little smirk, he backs away, hooking his fingers around my panties and pulling them down my legs.
I watch with wide eyes as he climbs down my body, taking my panties with him with one hand until his chin is in line with my belly button, and my panties are being swept over my ankles.
“I changed my mind. I want to be the first to taste you when you come,” he says, kissing the soft, cushioned skin.
“Don’t hold back. I want my whole fucking tongue coated in it, Sunshine.
” He levels me with a serious look that somehow terrifies and comforts me at the same time.
“However long it takes. Just try not to wake up the whole town with your screams.”
“I will not scream,” I insist as he drags my underwear down my legs.
His arms slide beneath my thighs, wrapping around until his palms press against my lower belly. “We'll see about that.”
It's the final warning I get. In the next breath, his tongue is sliding across my most sensitive area, hitting the perfect spot and swirling there. I'm immediately bowing off the bed.
“Fuck,” I hiss a little too loudly, hating that I'm already proving him right.
Mac takes that as encouragement to stay there, increasing pressure.
His tongue slides up and down once again, this time swirling around my entrance.
White spots fill my vision, and my fingers rake through his disheveled hair. “Mac, this is crazy but… I-I think I’m–” My hips buck forward on their own, cutting me off. “Fuck, I think I'm going to…”
He only doubles down on his efforts, his large palm draping over my stomach to hold me in one spot as my movements become more frantic. Being trapped only makes the sensation build faster, until I feel lightning shoot up my spine, and pleasure takes over every atom of my very being.
“Oh, God,” I hear my voice fall out from some distant place, followed by a few loud, breathy noises that I swear I've never made in my life. My fingernails dig into his scalp, holding him still as my hips rock against him, using his entire face as a means to my very chaotic, very euphoric end.
And he lets me.
He follows my lead, allowing me to take the reins and draw out what has to be the most spectacular orgasm in all of human history.
After what feels like an eternity, my muscles relax and I fall limp against the bed. Mac traces his tongue along every square inch of me, lapping me up, just as he said he would.
“I'm so sorry. That was–” I begin to say, but his finger presses against my lips and stops me from finishing my sentence.
“Don't ever fucking apologize for what just happened,” he growls, his voice low.
“I didn't expect it to be so…”
“Yeah,” he agrees, scooting up to lie beside me. I expect him to lie on his back, but he surprises me by cuddling into my side and nuzzling his face into my neck.
I never pegged Mac Sullivan—the grumpy, antagonistic hockey player—as a cuddler.
He traces circles on my stomach that move further upward until he's fully cupping my breasts, his lips grazing my throat the entire time.
I can feel his erection rubbing against my thigh, but he doesn't press for us to move on.
He's allowing me to set the pace—patiently waiting for me to make the next move.
I love that he's being so considerate. So sweet. But I need more. My body is still buzzing from my orgasm—my very first orgasm, given to me by the first boy I ever crushed on or kissed. This has to be some sort of full-circle moment, right?
I have to squeeze my thighs together to stop the pulsing in my center. I want him—no, I need him. Now.
“Mac.” I sigh his name, twisting to the side to drape my leg over his hips, which ends up lining the tip of his very hard erection perfectly with my center.
I pause, my breath coming out shallow and uneven.
Mac looks at me across the pillow, his blue eyes showing all the restraint he's exercising for me. To keep me happy. Safe. Comfortable.
“I'm trying not to come all over you right now like some rookie fucking teenager, but if I look at you, all bets are off.”
“Please,” I beg, though I'm not sure for what.
“Tell me what you want, Sunshine,” he whispers in a tone I somehow know is only for me.
“You. I want you.”
I don't give him a chance to respond. Instead, I take hold of the control he’s given me and close the distance between us to crash my lips against his in a desperate kiss.
One filled with passion and gratitude. With no restraint or fear.
I kiss him the way I've always been meant to kiss him, and he returns it all tenfold.
Pushing me onto my back, he settles his hips between my thighs, his arms bracketing my head against the pillow again. As he lines himself back up with my center, he swipes his tip around in my slick arousal. I accidentally wince as he presses against me, subtly stretching me open.
“Tell me if it becomes too much.”
“I can handle it,” I assure him.
He slowly presses his hips forward at a torturous pace, stretching me more and more as he goes. His eyes never leave mine, searching for any signal from me that I want him to stop.
“You're so fucking tight.”
I just smile, squeezing my thighs against his hip and digging my heels into his back to urge him forward even more, until he's fully seated inside me.
He looks down between us, his breathing uneven. Then, he hangs his head between his shoulders, his forehead hitting my chest.
“Holy shit, Delaney,” he mutters, his voice filled with the same emotions that are overtaking me.
Because I feel it too. The rightness. The relief. The pure ecstasy as the rest of the world falls away around it, and it's just him and me, alone in my room. The way it always should have been.
“Kiss me.”
He obeys, quickly swinging his head back up to meet my lips. And then his mouth strays further as his hips begin to rock the slightest bit, teeth grazing my jawline and down my neck, until he takes my breast into his mouth.
His hips begin thrusting faster, that little spark building against my spine with each movement.
I match his pace, grinding my clit against him each time he sinks flush with my body.
My fists tangle into the sheets as I try to find purchase in something, anything, to keep me grounded in this moment while my mind is lifting further and further into the clouds.
This isn't just a connection of our physical bodies. It feels like a union of our souls.
Mac's breathing grows just as erratic as mine, his movements picking up faster and less controlled.
I run my nails up and down his sides, my arousal somehow growing even more furiously with the indication that he's just as affected by this as I am.
That he's struggling to maintain control just as badly.
“Fuck,” he cries out, his voice erupting as something dangerously close to a whimper.
And that noise embeds itself deep inside my very marrow. To have the ability to bring a man as powerful and strong as Mac Sullivan is an ego boost beyond comprehension. A high I’ll be walking around with for days.
His pace quickens even more, sending lightning back up my spine and stars into my vision.
After a lifetime of never once experiencing pleasure in such a basal way, this man is easily going to pull two erections out of me in the span of fifteen minutes.
It hits us both at the same time, a wave crashing over us as easily as water coating the shoreline.
Mac slows for a moment, his corded arms stiffening around me as he rests his slick forehead against mine and takes a deep breath. He smells musky and masculine and delicious, his unkempt hair falling between us in disarray.
“Fuck. I'm trying so hard not to come,” he admits breathily, his hips keeping their same torturous rhythm.
“Why?” I practically cry, trying desperately to keep hold of the cresting wave of pleasure before it dies off again.
He rolls his head, eyes squeezed shut. “I'm not ready to be done.”
I frown, rolling my hips against him and earning a groan in response. “Please, Mac. I'm so close.”
Pulling back, he carefully surveys my face.
It's the final warning I get before he thrusts forward, shoving himself as far as he can go in one swift, delicious movement that tears me apart and puts me back together again.
Then, I feel the twitching of his erection as his orgasm floods inside me, and it has me completely undone.
We fall limply against the mattress once again, our muscles weak and our hearts full.
“I've dreamt of doing that for… a very long time,” I admit, grazing my teeth against my lip.
“I've imagined doing a lot more than that with you,” he says, using his pointer finger to free my lip.
“We have time.”
That has him smirking. “Give me a few minutes.”
I rear back, my muscles shaking like jelly. “You want to go again?”
“There's no limit to the number of times I want to hear you moan my name while you come all over my cock, Delaney. I'm not letting my physical body get in the way of such a spiritual experience.” He flashes his teeth in a cocky grin, and I swat at his shoulder. “As long as you're willing, so am I.”
“I didn't moan your name.”
“You did. Loudly. And fuck me, it was like angels in a choir.”
I frown, trying to recall if he's right. I really don't remember saying his name. “I can't believe I've gone this long without feeling that.”
“Don't worry, Sunshine. I intend to make up for lost time.”
We manage to muster up enough energy to go two more times. Until my body is spent and my soul is satiated.
Eventually, Mac's breathing evens out into sleep, but his hand stays on my face like he's afraid I'll disappear if he lets go. I drift off thinking that maybe some romance tropes become tropes because they're based on universal truths about human connection.