His chest is flushed red with arousal, his eyes burning as he focuses on the movement of my arm, then on the erection jutting from my groin. His dick is just as hard, and I moan when he wraps his hand around it and gives it a slow stroke. The engorged head peeks out from his fist, leaking pre-come. My mouth goes even drier. So I moisten it by bending over to suck the pearly liquid from his tip. Then I lift my head and lick my lips.
Jamie jerks. “Damn it, Wes, Ineedyou.”
My heart does a funny little flip. He needs me. I know he’s talking about sex right now, but a part of me hopes he means something else, too. He’s refused to accept my help this week. Anyone’s help, really. He’s refused to admit heneededhelp. Maybe this is his way of admitting it now.
Either way, I give him what he wants. I give himme, raising myself up and then lowering my ass onto his hard cock. The sting of pain confirms that I wasn’t entirely ready for this, but I don’t care. I welcome the burn. I welcome every inch of the man I love, leaning forward to kiss him as he gives an upward thrust that steals my breath.
“Ride me,” he orders. “Ride me hard.”
This time I don’t obey. I go slow instead. Painfully, deliciously slow, dragging out each rise and fall of my hips until his features are creased with impatience and need, until he’s moaning and squirming and begging for more.
Jamie clutches my hips with damn near desperation. He tries lifting his own hips, but I continue to tease him, planting kisses along his neck and collarbone, sucking on his earlobe, nibbling on his lip. I want to savor every second of this. I want to lose myself in the feeling of being stretched by him, filled by him.
But then he touches my cock.
The evil gleam in his eyes makes me curse. The moment he starts jacking me off, my body takes on a life of its own. Suddenly I’m riding him with fervor, unable to maintain the lazy tempo.
“Want you to come all over me,” he mumbles. His hand speeds up, thumb pressing against the underside of my cockhead with each hurried stroke.
Jesus Christ. He’s trying to make me explode. Hedoesmake me explode. With his hand on me and his dick in me, it’s impossible to stop the release that barrels toward me like a jet on the runway. I come with a harsh cry, and he jacks his hips up while his strong fist milks me dry.
He squeezes his eyes shut and shudders from his own release, letting go of my dick and wrapping both arms around me. My chest is glued to his thanks to our sweat and my come. His heartbeat hammers wildly against my pecs. It feels...too fast. Should his heart be beating that fast?
I quickly sit up, worried that he might have overexerted himself, that my selfish need to be with him might cause him to relapse.
Jamie must read my mind, because the pleasure in his expression fades and a slight frown touches his lips. “Don’t say it,” he warns.
I swallow. “Say what?”
“Whatever you were going to say.” He yanks me down onhim again, wrapping one arm around my shoulders. “I’m so sick of that look.”
“What look?” Do I even want to know?
“Theworriedlook. It replaced your sex look less than a minute after you blew your load.”
It’s not like I can deny it, because that would be a lie. “I have a sex look?” I ask instead.
“Yeah. Your eyes go a little out of focus, and your tongue hangs out a little.”
I snort into his armpit. “Sounds sexy.”
“It is when I’m the object of it. But I wouldn’t make that face forSports Illustratedwhen you do your big interview.”
When he talks about the press, Jamie sounds...bitter, I think. I’ve never used that word to describe him before. Ever. Now my spine prickles with unease, because I don’t know what to do about it. And yesterday I’d told him that the reporter wants to do it as a broadcast now—not just a print interview. “Baby, do you want me to cancel on them?”
He shrugs. “You can’t.”
“Uh…” Can’t I? This is all uncharted territory. Dennis Haymaker is going to ask about my relationship with Jamie. And it’s just occurred to me that whatever I say, I need to clear with Jamie first. “I have to talk to him about hockey, ’cause it’s in my contract. But I’d like your thoughts on what else I should say, or not.”
“Why?”
“Because we’repartners.” I lift my head. “Right? We’re together. And it’sourrelationship. You should have a say in what we tell everyone about it.”
He turns his head away, toward the windows. “Say whatever you want.”
My gut tightens. I’ve just been “whatevered” by the love of my life. “Jamie,” I whisper.
He doesn’t look at me.
