Her eyes searched his face, still waiting. Hoping? It was the hope that killed him. Fuck, he was no good at this. Give him a puck to hammer, a fight to win—anything but this raw, open vulnerability.
But stopping? Saying no? The thought carved a hole in his gut. That would be worse than any pain, any risk. She was offering everything he’d never dared hope to get.
So he swallowed hard, forcing air into his lungs. His voice might shake, he might fumble the words, he might not be worth even a fraction of what was she was offering, but he had to try. For her.
She deserved everything.
“Yeah.” His voice grew stronger, surer with each word. “Yes, Smythe. I want... I want everything. All of it. All of you.”
The smile that broke across her face was radiant, transforming her features in a way that took his breath. His chest cracked open, a dam bursting to release a flood of emotion he’d kept contained for far too long.
Before he could process it, her forehead was pressed against his,and she slid her hand through his hair so slowly, gripping him soft but firm at the roots. She kissed him deeper then, and it wasn’t long before they were sharing each other’s breaths.
“Condom?”
She spoke the request in his mouth. He didn’t know how he moved to his nightstand. If he was quizzed later he wouldn’t be able to say who tore open the package, who sheathed him. All he’d be able to remember was the exact moment she sank down onto him, knees bracketing his ribs, her breasts pressed on his chest. The tight sensation was perfect, and was almost secondary to the emotion of the moment. Almost, but not quite—because the physical sensations were undeniably, mind-blowingly good.
She set a slow, rolling pace, each movement sending sparks of pleasure through his body. The fit was fucking perfect, they’d been designed for this purpose. The friction between them built a delicious heat, spreading from their joined bodies outward until Gale felt as if his skin was on fire.
He dragged his hands up her sides, his calloused fingers catching slightly against her skin. The stark contrast between her softness and his roughness hit him like a drug straight to his bloodstream. When he reached her breasts, he claimed them with hungry palms, his thumbs circling her nipples with just enough pressure to make her gasp. The sound broke something loose inside him.
She arched into his touch with a gasp, her head falling back to expose the line of her throat. Pride surged at drawing that reaction from her, at being the one to bring her such pleasure.
He leaned up, pressing his lips in a sucking kiss to the hollow of her throat, tasting the salt of her skin. The faint pulse beneath his lips quickened at his touch, a tangible reminder of the effect he had on her. He trailed more soft, biting kisses along her neck, reveling in the quiet moans that escaped her lips.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, the words slipping out unbidden. He’d thought it countless times before, but had never allowed himself to voice the sentiment. Now, with all barriers between them stripped away, he couldn’t hold back. “It makes me insane to look at you. Always has.”
She threaded her fingers through his hair, again tugging to bring his face back up. The slight sting on his scalp sent a jolt of pleasure through him, mixing with the constant waves of sensation from their slick bodies. Their eyes locked, and Gale felt as if she was seeing straight into his soul. She leaned down, pressing her forehead to his, their breath mingling in the scant space between them.
“You’re mine,” she breathed, punctuating the words with a particularly deep roll of her hips that made Gale see stars. “Tonight you’re mine.”
The possessiveness in her tone sent a thrill through him. He’d spent so long fighting against any form of attachment, convinced it would only lead to pain. But now, wrapped in her arms, joined in the most intimate way possible, he couldn’t imagine ever wanting to be anywhere else.
“Yours,” Gale agreed, the admission sending another wave of emotion crashing over him. He brought a hand to her face, thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone. The soft skin beneath his fingertips grounded him, a tactile reminder that this was real, not just another fevered dream.
She sat up then, leaning back to brace her hands on his clenched thighs, increasing her pace slightly. He slid a hand between her legs, opening her slit to find her clit wet and swollen. He rubbed it until the room filled with the sounds of their pleasure—sweat-damp skin on sweat-damp skin, hitched moans, and muffled swearing. The headboard knocked against the wall with each movement, adding a steady percussion to their symphony.
He felt the familiar tension building in his core, a coiling heat that threatened to consume him. But he gritted his teeth against it, determined to hold out. No way was he finishing before her, not when she’d already given him so much pleasure.
She cried when he pulled back her hood slightly, her rhythm faltering for a moment before picking back up with renewed intensity. The added stimulation seemed to heighten every sensation—Gale could feel the slight tremor in her thighs, the way her inner muscles clenched around him, the way his wet dick glistened.
Gale watched in awe as pleasure played across her features, memorizing every micro-expression. The way her lips parted slightly, the flutter of her eyelashes, the deepening flush that spread from her cheeks down to her chest. He wanted to commit every detail to memory, to carry this moment with him always.
“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, voice rough with exertion. “Come for me. Take everything. It’s already yours.”
Her hips stuttered against his, her inner walls gripping him so tight it made his vision blur. He redoubled his efforts, desperate to make her come first. He needed to watch her lose control, needed to feel her shatter around him, needed to know he could wreck her as thoroughly as she wrecked him. Needed to prove he deserved this.
Gale could taste salt on his lips, unsure if it was from her skin or his own perspiration. Every nerve ending in his body felt alive, hyperaware of every point of contact between them.
When she went over, it was with a cry of his name that he knew he’d hear in his dreams for years to come. Her back arched, head thrown back in abandon as waves of pleasure racked her body.
He followed her with a hoarse shout, his vision whiting out as pleasure crashed over him in waves. For a moment, the world ceased to exist beyond the points where their bodies connected, beyond the shared breath between them.
As they came down from their high, she collapsed onto his chest, both of them breathing heavily. Gale wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as if she might disappear if he let go. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling her hair and marveling at how goddamn right it felt to have her in his arms. This was real.
This was happening.
But then that dark voice slithered back with its hissing whisper—the same one that haunted him after missed shots and botched plays: How long could this perfect moment last?
