“If you get inside me—in any way—I may lose it, babe. I’m ready anyway.”
I back up, beckoning him a bit down the bed, and make quick work of straddling him.
“You sure?” he asks, as I line his impressive cock up.
“Literally about to die if you aren’t in me, Gabe. I need to know what that feels like. Don’t make me wait.”
Chapter eighteen
Gabe Thatcher
The Bench Social Media Group
Stan: Guys, I really think they have this.
I’m glad I’m not a man of many words. It means there are fewer to fly out of my brain as Roe sinks down on me, rocking his hips as I fill him.
I meet his movements as my head spins with how good it feels, how complete I feel with him all around me, that spicy scent in my nose as my body sings with the pleasure that trails up my spine.
I’ve been inside him for a minute, and I’m addicted.
“Gabe.” He pauses, that hockey-god body spread out, looming over me, caging me in.
“You need to stop?” I ask, but I can’t read his face because it’s turned to the ceiling.
Roe Monroe riding me is a fucking beautiful sight. It makes my heart hammer in my chest as I watch the long lines of him move with his body.
“Noooo,” he breathes out, blue eyes finding mine as he lowers his head. His pupils are blown, a desperate heat behind them. “I need . . . God, you feel good.”
I pull him down for a kiss, and our bodies can’t help but continue to move.
Fuck, the feeling is almost too much.
“What do you need, Rory?” I ask, breaking the kiss.
We move together, slowly.
The push and pull is as effortless as his rhythm on the ice, as easy as seeing the shape hiding in the wood and setting it free.
Roe digs his fingers into my arms, his slow and steady movements becoming more erratic.
“Just. Fuck, Gabe. Don’t stop. Want it to last forever, but . . . shit, I don’t know—” His mouth parts, a gasp as I move my hips making his words falter. “More,” he breathes. “Just more.”
I can feel the pleasure zinging through me, building up to something I desperately want, but I don’t want it as much as I want him to feel the same thing.
I roll my hips, sliding as far into him as I can, locking us together as he freezes for just a moment before a long moan rips through him and his body clenches tight on mine. That’s all it takes to kick me into the pool of bliss I could feel waiting.
His lips find mine and we kiss between ragged breaths, as our bodies work to give each other the last bits of pleasure we can manage.
Roe collapses on top of me, and I roll us more comfortably to the side as I let myself naturally soften to slide out of him. I don’t want to miss a moment of this connection.
He gives a happy sigh, tangling his legs in mine, and we share light touches and kisses until I can drag myself away to get a towel for cleanup.
“Always the gentleman,” Roe teases as I carefully clean him.
I toss the towel in the hamper and rejoin him, the smell of sex and Roe keeping my mind spinning and me on the edge of sleep. I end up with my head on his chest, with his arms around me and his hands in my hair.
I’ve never quite felt this before, not that I can quite describe what “this” is. It’s some combination of feeling like I’m home, like I’ve found something. Like I’m seen.
