18. Matt #2
“Thank God. I don’t think he saw us,” she murmurs, leaning forward with her face still glued to her door, her ass pushed back toward me, drawing my gaze down to her hips, reawakening the fire in me in a single second.
Jesus Christ.
Stepping forward, I silently place my hands beside hers on the door and lean down, breathing her in. “Is he still out there?”
She jumps from the sound of my voice, her ass brushing against the front of my pants, which are doing little to hide my excitement. My right hand falls to her hip as her back arches ever so slightly, and she sucks in a sharp breath.
Gently, I dig my fingers into her side, and her body responds greedily.
“Come on, Shay. Tell me, is he still there?”
My other hand slips from the door, and I run my fingers between her shoulder blades, down the back of her coat to the top of her ass. A shudder runs through her, and her breathing quickens.
When was the last time someone made her shiver? When was the last time someone made her come? Nope. Maybe I don’t want to know the answers to those questions because I might keel over from jealous anger.
“He’s back in his room,” she mutters, still frozen in place, looking into the hallway, her body still responding to my every command from my fingers.
Pushing against her lower back, I help her right herself and turn her around to face me, tipping her jaw up so she’s forced to meet my eyes.
She’s nervous, an uncertainty in her eyes that I can’t explain.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Shay. Tell me. Please.”
Would it be torture to go another day without knowing what she tastes like? Yes, but I’d wait a lifetime for a moment with her.
Slowly, her gaze heats up and travels down my front and gradually back up to my stare. “I, umm … I haven’t done anything in a few years. I might not be very good at it. I’m very out of practice.”
“Shh, shh, shh.” My whispers are soft confessions between us. “I promise you, you’re perfect.”
Her eyes tip upward. “I’m serious, Matt. I don’t know if my arm, my hand, or my damn body will cooperate.”
Leaning down, I graze my lips across hers. “You’re perfect. No matter what, Shay, you’re perfect.”
A smirk skirts across her mouth, and her tongue darts out, wetting her lips. “If my arms don’t want to cooperate, I guess I’ll just have to use my mouth.”
A shudder shimmies down my back, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. “Christ, Rooney, you are driving me insane.”
Her shoulders relax, and she rolls onto the balls of her feet. Pressing her cheek against mine, she whispers in my ear, “Good.”
She wants this—to break this tension as badly as I do. It’s eating me alive, and I know it has to be doing the same thing to her.
“What happened to waiting until after the finals?” I murmur as she rocks back to her heels, peering up at me through her long lashes.
With a soft shrug, she bites down on her bottom lip. “I was thinking …” I wait with bated breath for her to finish, willing to agree to whatever proposition she’s offering. “What if, for the sake of the team, we give in? Just once.”
Humor flutters in my breathy chuckle. “For the team, of course. We can’t be distracted.”
“And you’re”—her eyes scan down my body—“very distracting.”
I click my tongue, leaning down toward her as I murmur, “Tsk-tsk-tsk. Well, if it’s for the well-being of the team, how can I say no?”
“Just a taste,” she mutters into my parted lips. “Just once.”
“Just once,” I exhale almost inaudibly, closing all distance between us.
I seal my lips against hers. She groans as our lips roll together, and my dick twitches in response to the sweet sound. Taking control, she separates the seam of my lips with the tip of her tongue. Mine finds hers instantly, and they dance together as my fingers grip the wall by her head.
God, I need her more than I need to breathe. More than I need hockey. More than I need to win. I just need her.
“Please,” she whimpers between kisses, her hands finding my chest and pushing me backward into the room.
Rounding my hands over her hips, I scoop her up, her legs instantly wrapping around my waist, as if they had a thousand times before. My lips find her jaw, trailing kisses down her neck to the top of her collarbone, where my tongue traces the line that disappears beneath her shirt.
Dropping a knee onto the bed, I lower her down while pressing my lips back up her neck, her hands sinking into my hair. She tugs slightly, and I think I might combust.
Pulling back, I find her flushed and her breathing fast. “You are so goddamn sexy. I don’t know if one taste is going to be enough.”
She bites her smirk, staring at me with hooded eyes. “You’ll get more … if you win.”
“If?” I chuckle. “And if I don’t?”
She grins, leaning forward and casually undoing the buttons of my shirt.
“Then I guess you’ll have to find some other way to earn this.
” She pushes my shirt off of my shoulders before trailing her hand between her legs, up her stomach.
“And these.” She works higher until she sucks her finger in her mouth before popping it out and pointing to her lips. “And this.”
Images of her mouth around my cock with my hand buried in her hair flood my vision.
Reaching down, I palm my dick, and her gaze follows, her eyebrow kicking up.
“You think this will fit between those pretty lips?”
Taking my challenge and doubling it, she stretches her arm out and flattens her fingers against my dick, rubbing it up the length. I can’t even tease her without her turning it right back on me.
“Maybe we should find out? You get a taste of whatever you want.” Her confidence wavers ever so slightly, but she gets it back as I rock against her hand. “And I get mine.”
Sitting up, I flick my arms and let the shirt drop until I can peel my wrists out of it. Her hands fall to her dress shirt, working the buttons undone from top to bottom, revealing pink lace hiding underneath.
“You don’t have to do a single thing to me tonight—you realize that, right?” I assure her, unbuckling my belt and dropping it to the floor before popping the button on my pants so my erection can at least breathe.
She relaxes into herself more, the sexiest arrogance in her stare. “I know. But what if I want to?”
My dick pulses. “Baby, you can do whatever the hell you want to me.”
Reaching behind her back, she unhooks her bra and shrugs her shoulders, letting it fall to expose her tits. “Good. Because I really do want to find out how far that’ll fit down my throat.”
I inhale and grunt at her confession. Holy hell, she is ruining me.
I’m not going to last more than five seconds in her mouth.
As I drop my pants to my ankles, she watches me, studying every movement as I hook my thumbs in my boxers and push them down, my hard-on springing free. Her eyes track it, swinging up and down as it bobs between us.
She wets her lips and sticks her hand out, palm up. I give her what she wants, stepping forward until my dick brushes against her hand.
Turning her hand over, she wraps her fingers around me, and she pumps from my tip to my base, making the floor fall out from under me.
“Holy fuck.”
Giggling, she hums, her voice raspy, “God, you’re so reactive.”
She’s enjoying this as much as I am.
Her firm grip pumps me back and forth until my hips are swaying with the motion. My eyes roll to the back of my head. Fuck, if she keeps this up, I’m a goner.
Before that happens, I need to hear her scream with her face buried in the mattress.
It takes every single ounce of control in my body to step back out of her grasp. She inhales with disappointment, looking up at me with a pout.
“You’re a brat—you know that?” I chuckle, and she grins. “Turn around, on all fours.”
She glares at me defiantly, but she does as I asked, flipping over and getting on her hands and knees, her ass to me.
“Mmm,” I groan, closing the distance between my knees and the edge of the bed. “You know on either side of you are Nighthawks staff, right?”
Looking back over her shoulder, she nods.
My hands flatten against her slacks, and I glide them around her hips and undo the button, pushing the zipper down and sliding my hand against her soaking panties.