Page 30 of The Keeper

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“Deal,” he says softly.

I put my hands on his biceps. God, they are muscular. Exploring with clothes still on, I feel the corded muscle of his forearms, the bulge of pectorals, the ripple of abdominals. Yep. All the right things are there. An ache blooms in my lower belly, an ache I haven’t felt since the night I met him, the night I kissed him so carelessly.

“You are…very fit.” The words come out of my mouth breathlessly, making me flush hotter.

“Athlete,” he says, his eyes closing as I cup his cock through his jeans. He’s semi-hard, for sure, like he was when I straddled him in the cab. He wants me—that much is totally clear.

I help divest him of his shirt and am rewarded with maybe the most perfect upper body I have ever seen in person. I actually sigh, much to my chagrin. It makes him smirk. Not a smile. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him truly smile. He always looks slightly uncomfortable, even when I know he’s having a decent time. It’s good to see him make a face resembling happiness or enjoyment or amusement.

Taking my time, I repeat the exploration, hand on skin, gooseflesh erupting all over his arms as I run my fingertips and palms over every muscle, savoring the feel of his warm skin.

Calum Lefleur is a work of art with his slightly golden skin. He looks like he belongs on the pages of a California surf magazine more than a far-northern Montreal ice hockey rink. He is, quite simply, delicious from head to toe.

He does not stop me as I reach for his belt. So, I move on to unbuckling him, then working the button free, and then unzipping, the sound of the zipper practically screaming into the silence.

The sound triggers something in Cal, and he starts helping to free himself from the jeans and the socks until he’s standing before me in nothing but thin gray boxers.

“I want to see you.” Oh, how I want to see him. I’ve never been this bold with a partner before, and it shocks me to hear myself saying the words at this moment. But I don’t have time to ponder my boldness for long.

Because he ditches the boxers and tosses them away before straightening again to his full height—every naked inch of him on display for my eyes to devour.

Holy Moses. Inches indeed. A lot of inches.

As I assess the loooong, hard length of his cock, I take a pass around him, touching his ass, which is sculpted and perfect. His quads are insane. He just gets better and better the more I look.

While admiring the very naked and spectacular Cal, I start to feel a little nervous he might not like my body. I haven’t been naked with a man in a long time. I decide my approach will be to make him want me so badly that he won’t care about anything other than being inside of me.

I fall to my knees, stroking his cock with my hand, cupping the twin weights with the other. I take a taste, first, just a quick swirl of my tongue around his head. His hips jut forward, lust taking over as he stares at me, his intense eyes darkening with desire.

Encouraged, I slip my mouth around him like a sheath, taking in as much of his length as I can. Back and forth, a slow torture, I work his cock, my tongue licking, my mouth sucking, unabashed noises of desire building in the back of my throat as his hands find my hair and his hips pump. He fucks my mouth with his hands gripped firmly in my hair. It’s erotic overload to the millionth power as I let myself awash in the sensation of sex and fucking and the forbidden. All of it…

A trickle of salty precum tells me to back off before this party ends too quickly. I give a last lick, and he helps me to my feet, tearing my shirt up over my head to get it off me quickly. His lips crush against mine as he pulls me toward him, my breasts smash against the hardness of his chest, our skin so warm together.

Cal picks me up easily; those beautiful muscles of his more than just for show. My legs wrap around his waist as he carries me to the bedroom and deposits me onto his bed. Making quick work of my boots, jeans, and socks, he leaves me in nothing but my bra and panties. As he looms above me, I can see how his carved chest moves along with each breath, appearing more intense than I’ve ever seen him. A wildness has set into Cal, and it makes me want him even more.

He stares down at me, and then, with no hesitation whatsoever, he takes ahold of each of my thighs with his hands and parts them. He does pause then, another offering of consent, perhaps? The communication between us flows with a knowledge of where this will go. I nod once up at him, letting him know my answer.

Then he buries his face between my legs.

I cannot hold back the gasp that slips out of me as his hot breath burns through the black satin of my panties. Rubbing myself shamelessly against his face, and nearly out of my mind from the sexual heat of his lips against my clit, separated only by a thin wisp of satin, I bury my hands in his hair—hair I’ve wanted to touch since the day I first laid eyes on him.Soft—so much softer than I thought it’d be.

I lose all conscious thought once he pulls my panties to one side and slips a finger inside me while keeping up with what his clever mouth was doing already. I won’t last long at this rate. I can’t stop what’s coming. Literally. Coming.

Incoherent words bubble out of me. “Oh, God, yes. Please. More of that.” When a second long finger penetrates me, I feel the wave of pleasure start its fatal roll. My head thrown back against his bed, I try to encompass everything I’m feeling with him.Yes. Yes.This is what I needed. What I craved.Yes. Yes. So much, yes.

Doing this with himwasworth it.

When he interprets my signals of impending orgasm (thank the Lord) he rips my panties off fully, grabs a condom from his nightstand, and sheaths himself.

“Is this okay?” More intense staring out of those deep blues of his. “Billie?”

I love the way he says my name, his Canadian accent working as a sort of beacon, forcing me out of my head and back into this moment with him. “Yes. Yes. Please. Please.” I’m begging him now, panting, half-crazed, wanting to come so badly, I don’t care about the hurt that’s coming—the good hurt I’ll feel when he stretches me wide with that huge cock he’s sporting.

Calum slides inside me without hesitation, then. He holds still for a moment while I get used to the fullness. “Tight,” he breathes, his forehead on my forehead.

“Been a long while,” I say, widening my legs, allowing him fuller entrance.

When he starts to move, I come. No buildup. No preamble. I just come, tightening and pulsing around him as he sucks in a surprised breath. My hands on his perfect ass, I encourage him to move faster, to go harder. He does, and it seems my orgasm goes on forever and ever until I can’t breathe. I think I forget how to say real words. It’s just me and him and the intensity of my body’s reaction to him.