Chapter 31
Finley
My star defenseman just made me come on his couch.
And somehow, that wasn’t the best part.
Beckett Kane is a talker. And the way he offers praise constantly is like a balm to my frozen heart. I can barely come up with words to describe the out-of-body reaction I just experienced.
Now all I want to do is to take him into his bedroom and return the favor.
Beckett lightly presses his lips to mine, and it’s like my soul is curling up in its favorite chair. It’s the feeling I get when I’m skating on freshly Zamboni’d ice—smooth and clear, more like home than any dwelling ever has felt.
He shifts slightly, slipping between me and the couch, and wrapping his arms around me. His erection juts into my hip, a very prominent reminder that I was the only one who found my pleasure. Suddenly, I’m ready for round two.
I move, angling my body so there is enough space between us to allow my hand to slip inside his sweats.
“That was amazing,” I say, stroking his long length.
“Fin,” he groans. “Fuck.”
“Let me,” I plead, trying to wiggle my way lower on the couch.
“Nope,” he replies, pulling me up. “I need to be inside you. Now.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
He shakes his head before somehow managing to climb over me and stand without ever touching me. Such impressive control of his body. “Come on, Queenie. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it the right way.” With his arms scooped under me, he lifts me and the comforter with ease.
I nuzzle into his neck as he walks me to his bedroom. “I like the sound of that.”
“Okay, princess.” He drops me onto the bed. “On your hands and knees.”
I glare up at him from my spot on his bed. “Not only are you demoting me from queen, but you’re also bossing me around?”
“Oh, Fin. You may be in charge elsewhere, but in my room, I’m the boss. Not to worry, though, I’ll still treat you like a queen.”
And damn, if that doesn’t make me even wetter than I already am.
Beckett’s eyes darken as I refuse to follow his order. “On. Your. Knees. Queenie.”
I shake my head, a thrill shooting through me at the anticipation of what he’ll do with my defiance.
The corner of his lip curls up. “Oh, baby. Wrong choice.”
He grabs my ankles, pulling me to the edge of the bed. I let out an “oof” as my back hits the mattress, which quickly turns into a squeak as he easily pulls off the extra-large sweatpants he loaned me with a tug.
When he drops his face between my thighs, his tongue darts out, licking up my slit as his hands slide up the insides of my legs.
“I’m going to make you pay, Finley Blake,” he whispers against me.
“Fuck, Beckett,” I moan.
“This is what happens when you don’t listen, Fin.”
I grab his hair, getting him to look at me. “I don’t think you understand how punishment works.”
“Oh, trust me, you’re going to be begging me to stop soon.” He grins like a devil.
“Game on, handsome.”
He lowers his head again, running his nose along the inside of my leg from my upper thigh to the junction, getting just close enough to make me sweat before dropping his nose back to my other knee.
“God, you smell good,” he says as he works his way back up my leg, biting and licking as he nears the place I so desperately want him.
After only a few moments of teasing and praise, I’m starting to see how torturous this might be.
My hips thrust of their own accord as he nears my center for what has to be the hundredth time, and his low laugh sends a wave of warm heat against me.
I bite my lip, refusing to let out the moan that wants to escape. I play to win.
He takes a deep breath in as if I’m a fragrance people spend millions on and lets out a deep moan. “Maybe I’ll torture you tomorrow.”
With that, he spears his tongue into my center, his hand slipping between us to work my clit.
This was not what was supposed to be happening, but I can’t seem to care that he’s committed to worshipping my body. Hell, I’m not even surprised to learn that Beckett is a giver in bed.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chant, quickly drawing near to the edge again.
Switching tactics, his tongue moves to my clit, and he slips two fingers inside of me, rubbing my inner wall how I like. I’m not sure whether he paid attention on the couch or if he’s just that good, but I can’t seem to care.
My pleasure builds, and as he continues to stroke me, he nibbles on my clit. “Come for me, Queenie.”
My vision blurs, stars dancing in my eyes as my climax builds.
“You’re doing so good. Now come, baby.”
And I do with a moan, my fingers digging into his scalp as I pull his hair.
“Fuck,” I pant. “Wow. You’re so good at that.”
Beckett presses a sweet kiss to the tip of my nose, his eyes desperate as he asks, “Will you please, with a cherry on top, get on your hands and knees so I can fuck the shit out of you?”
This time, I don’t even pretend to put up a fight. “God, yes.” I scramble onto all fours, swaying slightly as I move toward the head of the bed.
He climbs on behind me before palming my ass, his large hands stroking softly as he lets out a sigh. “Finally.”
He turns my face to look at him. “You good with getting spanked, Queenie?”
“Aren’t you just a consent king, Beckett Kane?” I reply with a smile.
“Always, gorgeous. Now, tell me that I can spank your ass while my dick is buried deep inside you.”
“Wrap it up, and then you can do whatever you want to me,” I say, almost panting in anticipation.
Beckett digs through the top drawer of the nightstand with his right hand, his left continuing to caress my ass cheek.
I look over my shoulder to see him tear open the wrapper with his teeth.
He holds my gaze as he rolls the condom on slowly, and I wonder how I’ve gotten this far in life without realizing that putting on protection can be sexy.
“You ready, baby?”
“Yes.” God, yes. I’m more ready than I’ve ever been.
“Good.”
He slides his hands lower, dipping a knuckle into me. “You’re still so wet, Fin.”
“That’s because I’m so ready for you to fuck me, Beckett. Now, do it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he agrees, notching the head of his cock against my entrance.
Not waiting for him, I push back slightly, my eyes closing with the pressure.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, slowly pushing forward. “God, this is the most perfect pussy. So tight. Warm. Wet.”
I thrust backward again, and he reaches forward to give my nipple a light pinch.
“Do you like that, Fin? Do you like it when I squeeze your pretty little nipple?”
“Yes,” I moan.
Beckett rubs my ass again before spanking it, the sting jumping directly to my clit.
He does it again, grunting as my inner walls tighten around him.
“That’s so good, Fin. So damn good.”
With that, he increases his speed, thrusting unrelentingly. His fingers dig into my hips as he maintains his hold on me. I’m completely at his mercy, and it’s everything I didn’t know I wanted.
I reach between my legs, searching for the bundle of nerves that is demanding my attention. Beckett whacks my hand away.
“Mine,” he declares as he starts to move his fingers over me. “That’s mine. Your perfect cunt is mine. All mine.”
I arch my back, and—fuck. The angle changes, the stars returning to my vision as I near my peak.
“Ohhhh,” I moan, my movements matching his as we both seek our release. “Oh, yes.”
I come for the third time, and Beckett follows, his body collapsing on top of mine as he whispers his praise in my ear.
His cock is still buried in me as I all but fall into a coma.
After a moment, Beckett climbs off the bed and pads from the room. He returns moments later with a warm washcloth and, despite my protests that I can do it myself, proceeds to clean our combined releases from me.
“Thank you,” I say when Beckett returns to bed and lies down next to me, pulling the comforter over us both.
His dark eyes find mine. “For what?”
I press my lips together. Part of me wants to joke and say for making me come three times, but I know it’s so much more than that.
It’s for being my friend. For showing me that there are things other than hockey to look forward to.
For keeping me from becoming a snowman when I decided to walk out into a blizzard.
But I’m not quite sure if I’m ready to tell him all of that yet.
Instead, I snuggle next to him and lay my head where his shoulder meets his chest. “For making sure I didn’t die in the snow. And… for tonight.”
“I’d do anything for you, Finley,” he declares, tilting his face to place a kiss on my forehead.
A kiss that makes me want to grab on to Beckett and never let him go.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him about it. About us. But what good would it do? The only possible outcome is that it would ruin our snow day, and that’s the last thing I want right now.
I just want to stay in this cocoon of happiness and warmth for as long as possible.
So, I snuggle into his chest and drift into a post-orgasmic sleep. Moments later, maybe minutes, maybe hours, when Beckett whispers, “Goodnight, Queenie,” and kisses me gently, I let myself dream of a universe where this wasn’t just a one-night thing but my life.
***
The next morning, I wake up early, jerking when I realize the warmth at my back is Beckett spooning me. It’s been so long since I allowed myself to sleep with someone that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be held by a man.
And Beckett Kane is not just any man, I realize as I slowly move my ass against his very noticeable morning wood.
Not wanting to wake him, I slip my hand out of the covers to check my phone. The snow is still falling heavily, according to the weather app. The only new email I have is one from Sabrina, saying the final event of The Great Yeti Challenge has been postponed until next week.
There’s a thought trying to disrupt my peaceful morning about what it means that I crossed this line, but I forcibly shove it from my consciousness.
That’s a problem for tomorrow’s Finley. Or at least Finley who isn’t actively being cuddled.
Beckett groans behind me, lightly thrusting his hips as he awakens.
I roll in his arms, bringing my face near his. “I’ve been waiting so long to do this,” I admit, sliding beneath the blankets until I’m eye level with his dick.
“Fin,” Beckett groans, running his hands through my hair. “Come back up here. I’ll make you breakfast.”
“Can’t. My mouth is going to be very full soon.”
I peek out of the blankets as he drops his head onto his pillow, his deep voice still raspy with sleep as he murmurs, “Fuck, Queenie, you’re killing me, but if you want my cock for breakfast, I won’t argue.”
“Good boy,” I say, hoping he likes praise as much as he seems to enjoy giving it.
Because, as it turns out, I really fucking like being told how amazing I am while someone brings me to completion.