30. Scottie #2
He rolls his eyes, a low, rich chuckle rumbling in his chest. He steps closer, trying to crowd me further into the door, but in his absolute eagerness to back me down, he leans over me so far that the crown of his forehead clips the sharp metal edge of the door’s deadbolt housing.
Clonk.
For a second, absolute silence fills the room. Cash freezes as he processes the impact. I stare at him, my mouth dropping open.
We both crack at the exact same time.
I double over, giggling like a lunatic, clutching my stomach as the absurdity of the elite franchise goaltender getting defeated by a hotel lock breaks me. Cash throws his head back, letting out a loud, helpless snort of laughter, grabbing the top of his head with one hand.
We’re both standing there in the middle of the room, shoulders shaking, giggling like a couple of kids who just got caught pulling a prank.
“Oh, my God,” I wheeze, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye as I lean against his chest, still chuckling. “The legendary Finnian O’Connell. Defeated by hardware. Let me see it, drama queen.”
He dramatically drops his chin, closing his eyes and leaning down so his forehead is right in front of me, acting like he’s on the verge of total collapse.
“It’s terminal,” he groans, his voice dripping with mock tragedy. “I will die here, on a hotel floor, Scottie. My career is over. Tell my mother I loved her.”
“Stop being a baby,” I laugh, stepping on my tiptoes. I cup his jaw with one hand and lean forward, pursing my lips to gently blow a cool stream of air right over the red mark blooming against his hairline. “There. All better, princess.”
Cash’s eyes flutter open, the dramatic act melting away in an instant. A slow, incredibly filthy grin stretches across his mouth, his dark gaze dropping straight to my lips.
“You know,” he murmurs, his voice thick, “I can think of another thing you should blow on.”
I shove his chest away with both hands, laughing out loud as I shake my head.
“Oh, come on, Cash! Do not ruin the moment!” I protest. “We had a sweet, tender thing going for two seconds!”
“I’m a professional athlete, Scottie, my mind only works in one gear,” he laughs, catching my wrists before I can push him again. He pulls me right back into his space, reeling me in until my chest is flush against his.
The giggles fade away, replaced instantly by that heavy, magnetic shift in the air. The room goes quiet again, the tension snapping back into place like a coiled spring.
He doesn’t rush. Neither do I.
Cash reaches up, his large, calloused fingers gently resting on the hem of my tank top. He catches my gaze, asking the silent question with his eyes, and when I nod, he lifts the fabric with agonizing slowness, sliding it up over my head and tossing it aside.
I reach for him too, my fingers finding the buttons of his flannel shirt. I pop them open one by one, sliding my palms across the smooth, hot skin of his chest.
We undress one another, stripping away the layers until there’s nothing left between us but skin, heat, and the undeniable truth of what we’ve been waiting days to do.
When we’re both bare, Cash takes a sharp breath, his hands sliding down to cup my hips, pulling me flush against him.
“You look breathtaking,” he whispers, his voice trembling as his eyes trace every inch of me.
“You’re not so bad yourself, O’Connell,” I murmur, smiling up at him.
He leans down and captures my mouth in a slow kiss that steals my breath. I moan into his mouth, my legs parting instinctively as he steps between them, his hard cock pressing against my stomach.
“I want you,” I breathe against his lips, not hiding it, not playing any games anymore. My hands trace the broad expanse of his shoulders, digging my fingers into his back. “Finn, I want you inside me. Right now.”
“I’m going to take care of you,” he promises as he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss right over my collarbone.
He lifts me, my legs wrapping around him, and carries me the three steps over to the bed. He lays me down gently onto the sheets, following me down instantly, his frame caging me in.
He positions himself between my thighs, sliding his hand down my stomach. When his fingers press against my pussy, I let out a sharp, breathless gasp, my hips arching up to meet his touch.
I’m already wet, already ready, and when he slides two fingers inside me, my eyes flutter shut as a wave of intense heat rolls through my limbs.
“Scottie,” he murmurs, his thumb circling my clit.
I open my eyes, locking my gaze onto his.
“You like that?” he whispers, his voice thick with want as he strokes inside me, watching my expression shift with every movement. “You like knowing how crazy you make me?”
“Yes,” I gasp, my hands gripping his shoulders, my fingers digging into his skin. “I love it. Please, Cash, just do it.”
He pulls his hand away, reaching for his jeans on the floor and fishing a foil packet from the pocket.
“Wait,” I say, catching his wrist before he can tear it open.
I meet his eyes, giving a small shake of my head. “You don’t have to. I’m clean. I’m on the pill.”
Cash stills, his dark gaze searching mine, looking for even the slightest hint of hesitation. Finding none, a shudder rolls through him.
He lets the packet fall onto the mattress, and before I can react, he’s on me, kissing me hard—deep and demanding, stealing the breath from my lungs with a rush of relief and barely restrained hunger.
“Good,” he murmurs against my lips, his hands cradling my face. “Because I don’t think I could stand anything between us right now. I need you—all of you.”
He positions himself at my entrance. He presses the thick head of his cock against my pussy, sliding just the tip inside to make me whimper before he draws back out.
“Cash, stop playing,” I laugh breathlessly, my hips chasing him. “Give it to me!”
“Ask nicely?” he taunts with a wicked grin, holding himself just out of reach.
“Please,” I groan, rolling my eyes and pulling him down by the back of his neck. “Please, you absolute idiot, just put your fucking cock inside me.”
“Such a brat,” he mutters affectionately.
He pushes forward, burying himself deep inside me inch by inch until he fills me completely. A gasp tears out of my throat, my hands flying up to grip his back as my body stretches around him.
He holds himself still inside me for a long, quiet second, our foreheads touching, our breathing syncing up in the dim light, before he begins to move.
The pace is slow at first. Deep. Every stroke pulls a broken, breathless moan out of my mouth.
As Cash starts moving faster, driving into me with a harder, rougher rhythm, the headboard of the bed slams backward against the wooden wall with a loud, rhythmic thud-thud-thud.
It is so aggressively cliché, so loud and ridiculous, that I let out a bright, helpless giggle right in the middle of a gasping moan.
“Oh, my God,” I laugh, throwing my head back against the pillows as the bed shakes violently beneath us. “Are we actually in a cliché romance novel right now? Is this a bad porn film, O’Connell? The headboard is so loud!”
“Unbelievable,” he groans, a breathless grin splitting his face. “I am in the middle of the most important moment of my entire life, and you’re mocking the acoustics.”
I giggle as I wrap my arms tighter around his neck.
“You are a menace,” he murmurs, shaking his head. He leans down, pressing a hot, lingering kiss to my lips. “God, you’re gorgeous when you’re making fun of me.”
The pace shifts. The giggles fade into desperate gasps as the friction builds into something uncontrollable.
He grips my hips with both hands, his fingers bruising against my skin as he drives into me harder, faster, filling every single second of the room with the sound of our breathing and our bodies slamming together.
“Scottie—fuck, you feel so good,” he groans.
The pressure builds too fast, too intensely, the weeks of tension and bickering and fighting finally snapping all at once.
“I’m so close,” I cry out, my hands tangling in his hair, my back arching off the mattress.
“Come for me, Scottie-girl,” he grunts, driving into me three more times, hard and deep, pushing me right over the edge.
A loud moan breaks out of my throat as the orgasm tears through my body. My pussy clenches around him, rhythmic and spasming, shattering his remaining control.
Cash lets out a low sound, his body seizing up as he drives himself deep inside me. He collapses forward, dropping his head into the hollow of my shoulder, his breath frantic against my skin.
We lie there for a long, quiet time, the only sound in the room being the synchronous cycle of our breathing, the headboard finally silent against the wall.
Slowly, gently, Cash shifts his weight, sliding out of the bed just long enough to slip into the bathroom and grab a warm, damp towel.
When he comes back, he begins to clean me, his touch incredibly tender as he wipes my skin, following every stroke with the soft press of his lips against my hip, my thigh, my knee.
“You okay, Scottie-girl?” he murmurs, leaning up to look down at me, brushing a stray lock of red hair from my forehead.
“I’m great.” I smile. “You’re a decent client, O’Connell.”
“Decent?” He pauses, a dark eyebrow arching as he trails a thumb up my leg, sending a delicious shiver straight through my spine. “After all this premier service? I’m practically a five-star luxury resort on legs.”
“More like a hazard to property and furniture,” I tease, reaching out to gently poke his shoulder.
He laughs before pulling me flat against his chest and wrapping his arms around me. He lifts my left hand to his mouth and presses a kiss right against my tattoo.
“Consider your contract terminated,” I mutter against his skin.
He laughs a soft, quiet laugh. “Not a chance.”