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"Maybe it’s a mistake. You’re more important. Maybe I should tell them I’m taking the car today with you and—"
I silence him by pressing my lips to his. He instantly thrusts his tongue into my mouth and takes control. He sucks on my tongue and draws from me, enveloping me in his big arms, and I’m hot and aroused, and moisture slides out from between my legs. The man has some kind of radar where I’m concerned, for he reaches between us and hooks two fingers inside. I mewl into his mouth, and that turns him on, for the column under my butt grows thicker. "You’re fucking soaking, and I’m not leaving you needy."
"What are you—" I draw in a sharp breath when he urges me up long enough to pull down his sweats. Then, he positions me over his already erect cock, thrusts up his hips and breaches me. I cry out, then hold onto him as he begins to pound up and into me, over and over and over again. Each time he enters me, he hits my G-spot.How is that freakin’ possible?The man’s a sex god, and his dick has a homing device when it comes to that invisible, innermost, most sensitive part of me. He holds me steady with one hand on my hip. The other, he wraps around the nape of my neck. His fingers are so thick and so long, they meet in the front of my throat. And when he punches up and into me again, I feel completely possessed. Owned.
He’s my dominant and I’m the submissive who’ll give him anything he wants. I’ve already given him my heart and my trust, and now he takes the only thing left, my will. I’m crumbling to dust, and every particle says his name.Rick. Rick. Rick.
He pistons up and into me. "Come," he snaps, and I cry out as I shatter. With a grunt, he pounds into me and empties himself inside me. For a few seconds, we stay there, eyes locked, breaths blended, my fingers digging into his shoulders, his palm heavy on the nape of my neck, his cock pulsing inside me. Then, he picks me up and sets me on the floor. His gaze turns bleak, and he looks away. "I need to go."
57
Rick
"Whatever it is you need, you've got to sort it out," Edward glares at me from across the floor of the locker room. He’s alluding to how I sucked at practice. And it’s not only because I’m worried about Grams. Hockey has always been my escape. But now, getting on the ice reminds me of how much I miss her when she’s not in the stands.
Gio messaged me to say she was going to the hospital to visit Grams, then sent me a picture of the two of them. Grams seemed pale in the picture, but there was a smile on her face. Gio sent a second text that said what followed was dictated by Grams: "I’m doing great, and Gio is here, so I don’t need you. I prefer her to you anyway. *wink emoji* Focus on the game."
O-k-a-y… Clearly, Grams is doing well. I’d fully intended to head there after practice, only Edward cornered me. I wanted to brush him off and leave, but while I’m stubborn, I’m not stupid. Also, although Gio comes first, it won’t help either of us if I commit professional suicide—again. Not when she’s the PR manager of the team and her professional reputation is tied to mine. This time, I won’t have a chance to resurrect myself.
"The Japanese have a word for it." He leans forward in his seat. "Hara-kiri."
"I’m not trying to destroy myself," I lie.
He scoffs. "Have you heard yourself? You wouldn’t be able to convince yourself with that tone, let alone me."
"You’re right." I pinch the bridge of my nose.
"The fuck is wrong with you?" he snaps.
"Yeah, when are you going your head out of your arse and tell her?" JJ prowls up.
"Oh, fuck." I open my eyes, then close them again. "When I open them again, will you be gone?"
"Not likely," JJ booms out a laugh.
"Where are the other two musketeers?" I slouch in my seat, not looking forward to this conversation.
"Someone call me?" Sinclair ambles over and stands next to JJ.
"And I was hoping to avoid this conversation." Michael glowers, then stops on the other side of JJ.
"Time to get this party started." Knight slips onto the bench next to me.
Edward lowers himself onto my other side.
I glance between them, then fold my arms across my chest. "Guess I should have called you all Robin and his merry men, the way you lot seem to multiply," I say in a bitter tone.
"There were four," Knight reminds me.
"Four?" I frown.
"Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and d'Artagnan," Knight adds.
"Not following," I growl.
"There are four main characters at the heart of the story." JJ rocks forward on his heels. His eyes gleam. Asshole’s enjoying himself. In fact, I’d say he lives for these little run-ins where he gets to share his love of the classics. His lips curve. "The title refers to the three whom d'Artagnan befriends, even though—
"Yes, I know. Your point being?"
