Chapter 6 Inspirational Fuck
INSPIRATIONAL FUCK
Camden
I’m down to my bra and panties and I’m soaked. This scrap of lace between my thighs is utterly useless since Shaw Coleman is a king on and off the ice.
I’m spread out on his big bed in his highline penthouse, with a view of the Hudson River lit up at night, and I’m a hot, wet mess as this man tugs down the cups of my bra.
Caresses my tits with his mouth. Kisses my stomach.
Roams his hands along my sides. Then brushes his mouth across the top of my panties.
I’m aching. “Please,” I moan.
He flicks his tongue across the lace. “Please what?”
“Please take them off and—”
“Fuck you with my tongue?”
Sparks shoot across my skin. “Or your fingers. Or your cock. I don’t even care. I just need something.”
Shaw pushes up and moves over me, bracing himself on his palms and looking down into my eyes.
“Camden, don’t just pick something. With me, you can have everything.
I can make you come all night long. And if you can’t choose, I’ll just start with a nice, slow, wet kiss,” he says, then slides the tip of his tongue along his lips, “along your very pretty cunt.”
I gasp. This man. His mouth is sinful. “Yessss.”
He drops a tease of a kiss to my throat. “Lie back, princess. Let me show you what getting fucked by the rival feels like…” He slides a hand down my stomach right between my thighs. “Especially since you’re so ludicrously wet.”
That’s the word for the way I feel right now—ludicrous.
But when he skims my panties off, the new word is a long, needy ohhhh.
He presses a soft kiss to my pussy, then flicks his tongue down, like he’s lapping up all my wetness.
I arch my hips as he travels back up, the flat of his tongue worshipping me.
He roams his hands down the back of my thighs, then pushes my knees up to my waist, opening me, making me feel so damn vulnerable and wildly aroused at the same time as he eats me like I’m a decadent crème br?lée and he’s licking every last drop off the spoon.
He pushes my knees higher up, opening me even more while he draws a dizzying circle around my pussy with his wicked tongue.
I’m grasping at the covers, clawing at the sheets, bucking against him. For a second, he stops. “Grab my hair, princess. You can fuck my face while I fuck you with my tongue.”
Sensations bathe every cell in my body. I feel loose and warm as I lace my fingers through his thick, dark strands, tugging him closer.
The sounds he makes—the hums, the murmurs—are obscene.
And so are mine as he goes down on me like my pleasure is his only goal. He flicks his tongue around my clit, then sucks it.
My hips jump up. “Oh god,” I gasp.
Everything feels electric.
“Better?” he whispers before he dives back into his feast.
“Better?” I repeat, then it hits me what he’s asking. Is this better than my ex? “It’s in a different league.”
I can feel him smile, pleased, satisfied as he French kisses my pussy till I’m writhing, crying out, then falling apart.
My world is white-hot and hazy for a long while, and when I finally come down from the high of my release, I expect Shaw to be hovering over me, ready to fuck me.
But the man doesn’t abandon his position. He simply lowers my legs to the bed, slides his hands under my ass like he’s scooping me closer, then looks up and meets my gaze. “Let’s see about another one, shall we?”
I gulp. But I can’t say no to this. “We shall. Oh, we definitely shall.”
He shakes his head, clearly amused, but then he returns to my center seconds later.
I’m so sensitive that he has to slow his pace.
He’s more tender this time, with teasing little licks at first. But once I settle back down, he turns on all his talents, this time slipping a finger inside me. My breath catches.
Then two.
Now three.
Oh god.
Oh fuck.
He crooks them, hitting a spot that makes me see supernovas. Light bursts behind my eyes, and before I know it, I’m coming again. It’s a shorter, sharper O than the last one, but no less good.
When I come down, he crawls up me, wiping a hand across his mouth, then unhooking my bra.
“There,” he says like a declaration. “Now, why don’t you sit on my cock for a good long while, princess?”
I nibble on the corner of my lips, leaning into the moment. “Only if you think you can make me come harder than I ever have before.”
He scoffs, but it ends on a smirk. “Princess, I know I can.”
He hops out of bed, strips down to nothing, and grabs a condom from the nightstand drawer.
He sinks down to his back, rolls the protection on his hard cock, and offers it to me.
Yes, it’s an offering indeed. Because it’s a beautiful dick, long and thick.
“I could write a song about this dick,” I say as I straddle him.
He arches one playful brow. “Then I guess I’d better make sure this is a really inspirational fuck.”
I laugh. “Oh, I’m pretty sure it will be, Shaw.”
I straddle him, sink down, and then yes, I sing his praises for the next half hour as he fucks me good, and hard, and better than anyone has before.
By the time we’re done, I’ve lost count of my orgasms.
And the reason for my grand plan too.
As I lie there in his bed, spent, with this attentive, obsessed-with-me Englishman, I’m not thinking of revenge. I’m thinking of living well.
I turn to him. “Do you want to come to the opening of my club with me next week?”
The corners of his lips curve up. “Like a date, Camden?” It’s a question full of delight. “A real one?”
“Was tonight not a real date?”
“It was a revenge fuck,” he says. “But it sounds like I revenge fucked my way right into your calendar, didn’t I?” The man is simply too pleased. But it’s well deserved.
I laugh. “You definitely did, Shaw.”
He leans over and kisses my cheek. “Good. Stay the night. I’ll be taking you out tomorrow too. And fucking you to another hat trick again.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shaw is a man of his word. He takes me out the next night for a walk along the Brooklyn Bridge, then to dinner at an off-the-beaten-path bistro before he has me again for dessert.
The next week, he joins me at the opening of my club and wraps his arms around me as we watch some of the most talented female singers perform on my stage before a packed house, thank you very much.
When the last one is finishing, I tell Shaw I’ll be right back.
“Don’t take too long, princess.”
“I won’t,” I say, then weave through Goddess, down the hall to the wings, and enter the stage to sing a new song.
“This is ‘Good Luck Kiss,’ and it’s for Number Twenty-Six.”
Shaw’s eyes spark. His smile touches something deep inside me. And his gaze never leaves mine as I sing about his inspirational kisses.
The next morning when we wake up at my place, he asks me to come to another game. “It’s our first game against the Red Hawks this weekend,” he says, “And I would love for my girlfriend to be there when we take on your ex.”
My ears perk. My heart dances. “I’m your girlfriend? That didn’t take long.”
He smiles. “Princess, I’m not the kind of man who fucks around.”
His meaning is crystal clear, and it does not go unappreciated. I show him how much I like it with my mouth on his long, pretty dick.
When he leaves, he kisses me at the door. “I have a new jersey for you. I’ll send it over before the game.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the one I have,” I point out.
“True, but this one is better.”
Better. There’s that word again. Everything is better with him.
Including the jersey, which arrives right on time, and I can’t stop grinning as I put it on and wear it to the game as requested.
It has Shaw’s number on it. But the name is different.
And when Shaw knocks Erik into the boards in the first period, my boyfriend flashes my ex a satisfied grin. I can’t hear what he says, of course. But it looks like, “She never fakes it with me.”
Erik parts his lips like he’s about to say something, but he’s become a fish evidently. He just opens and closes his mouth, like Shaw’s taken away the power of speech from him. Well, Shaw is better at everything. Sex, love, and hockey.
Then Shaw turns to me and blows a kiss.
I blow one back, and turn around so everyone can see the name on my jersey above Shaw’s number.
Upgrade.
THE END