11
AURORA
My ass stings. It’s not painful, more like a sunburn, but I’ll be feeling it for days. That’s fine with me, because Ethan’s right: I do love it.
His fingers encircle my throat, his other hand working my clit. The orgasm barrels through me—the type that rocks your entire body and leaves you dick-whipped.
My legs tense, and I pulse around him, mindlessly mumbling, “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”
“You’re strangling my cock, baby… Damn.” His voice is strained, breathy.
His grasp tightens, and his thrusts grow furious, pounding me through one climax and into another.
With a slam of his hips against my ass, he bottoms out and releases a rumbling, “Fuuuuuck” that sends a shiver down my spine.
I watch him in the mirror, his brows pinched, his gaze transfixed on where he slowly pumps in and out of me.
“I love the way you grip me, as if you don’t wanna let go.”
“I don’t.” Despite my legs being weak, I meet his lazy thrusts.
He abruptly pulls out. Before I can understand what’s happening, he’s maneuvering me to sit on the counter’s edge, facing him, my weight on my forearms behind me.
“I can’t stop. You feel too good.”He thumbs his still-hard cock and pushes inside me.
Veins protruding, his large hands grip my hips and ass, lifting me to meet his merciless thrusts. “Play with your clit, baby girl. Show me how you make yourself come.”
Desperate for more, I don’t hesitate. I hook my legs about his waist and tease my clit, circling and pinching.
Broad shoulders, a sculpted chest, his biceps bulging, abs flexing, his thick cock hitting every sweet spot—and my orgasm comes hard and fast with a shuddering moan.
“That’s my girl. Squeeze that tight cunt around me.” His fingertips dig into my flesh with bruising strength. “Fuck, baby. You’re going to make me come again.” His words are raw as his jaw clenches, and he growls low through his teeth.
I slump against the counter and mirror. He leans down, elbows on the surface, and gathers me in his arms, resting his forehead to mine.
Silence stretches between us, broken only by our ragged breaths, and my anxiety returns with a whirlwind of questions. He’s here, at least for now, but where has he been the past few nights? “Did you stay with her?”
His head lifts, his brows furrowed. “What?”
“Your ex. Did you stay with her last night?”
Intense gray eyes search mine. “You think I’d actually do that?”
My vision blurs. I swallow hard and blink away the tears. “I don’t know. She had what I’ll never have with you. That must mean something.”
“No.” He shakes his head adamantly. “It means nothing. This ,” he splays a hand over my swollen stomach, “means something— everything —and no one else will ever have this with me. Only you.”
“It was a mistake?—”
“Stop.” He puts a finger to my lips, his face stern. “Never say that again. You want me to fuck a baby into you on purpose? I have no problem with that. But then your husband will insist on having two. You wanna spend your twenties pregnant?”
Do I? Maybe. If I felt secure enough.
He ghosts his thumb over my cheekbone. “Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you. All you have to do is ask, remember?”
I scoff. He wasn’t too pleased with me the last time we were together. “I’m not bothering you if you’re not interested in seeing me.”
“So I’ve been reminded.” He releases a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I was distant. It’s not you, and it’s definitely not my fucking ex. It’s me, and I’ll do better.” He places a soft kiss on my lips. “I don’t want to leave, but I need to feed you before the game. Can we talk while we eat?”
“Sure. I have to finish getting ready.”
He withdraws, and I instantly miss the weight of his hard body on mine.
“Stay.” He sets me on my feet and pulls up his boxer briefs and pants, but he doesn’t buckle them.
I hold the jersey around my hips, and he helps me into my panties, drawing them up my legs.
He pauses halfway. His fingers brush my skin, collecting the cum trickling down my inner thigh. “No cleaning up.” He inserts his release back inside me. “I wasn’t kidding about sitting in my cum.”
“I’m pregnant. I’ll need to use the bathroom, silly.”
“Fine,” he gripes, but it lacks bite. He finishes dressing me, then rubs the center of my panties to ensure they’re soaked through.
“You’re a caveman,” I tease, chuckling.
“You made me this way, baby.” He dismisses me with a smack on the ass. “Get ready.”
After I finish applying my makeup with careful precision and he rights his clothes, he helps me into a pair of white, knee-high, red-bottomed boots.
“Do you have to be so fucking hot?” He scans my outfit with obvious appreciation, his eyes lingering. “Jesus, I can’t walk into a restaurant with you.”
“I’m a hockey WAG—wife and girlfriend. I have to look twice as hot, especially since I don’t meet the standard requirements.”
He quirks a brow. “And what are the standard requirements?”
“Blonde, peppy, a name that starts with a ‘B’—Brandy, Brittney, Bentley, Blakely—some cheerleader name.”
He barks out a laugh, deep and throaty and so freaking sexy. “God, I love you. Where’s your coat?”
I grab a large black box from the pile of gifts on the floor and set it on the bed. I flip the top and unfold the tissue paper to reveal the personalized bomber jacket Jax had made. His name and number are on the back—not just his name, but MRS. O’REILLY.
“Fucking Christ,” Ethan grumbles. “He had to make sure everyone knew, didn’t he?”
I take his elbow and give him my most charming smile. “Don’t worry, Blackwood. I have something in the works for you.”
“That scares me. Are you going to run it by me first?”
I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”