Understanding dawns in her eyes, followed immediately by embarrassment.
“I don’t want her,” I say, making sure she hears every word. “I want you.”
I kiss her again, slower this time but no less thorough, until I feel some of the tension leave her body.
“Okay.” Heather nods when I finally release her. “Okay.”
She’s smiling again, and there’s no way I can keep my hands off her now that I’ve started. I reach for her waist and pull her close again as Evelyn launches back into her questions about our upcoming game against Chicago.
“Yeah, they’re a strong team,” I say, trailing my free hand up Heather’s back. “Their offense is aggressive, but we’ve been working on?—”
I lean in and press my lips to the curve of Heather’s neck, right below her ear. She sucks in a quiet breath and tilts her head to give me better access.
“—working on tightening up our defensive coverage,” I continue, lightly kissing my way down to her collarbone. “So I think we’re prepared.”
Heather’s fingers curl into my shirt, and I can feel her pulse fluttering against my lips.
The reporter says something else, but I’m only half listening now. I’m more focused on the way Heather’s breathing has changed, the way she’s leaning into me even though I’m still on the phone.
When I look at her, I can see her mind working in real-time. I can literally see the wicked thought forming as she slowly drops down to her knees in front of me and runs her hands up and down my thighs.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” I ask. I don’t know what the fuck Evelyn just said, and I’m having a really hard time pretending to care.
“I said, what are you most looking forward to in the rest of the season?”
“Hockey,” I say, and Heather chuckles softly at the obviousness of the response.
It’s impossible to come up with anything deeper while Heather is busying herself with the button on my pants and slowly drawing the zipper down.
Fuck, she’s trying to kill me.
“Um,” I try to refocus on the last question, “I mean, obviously, winning. That’s always the goal. But also…”
But also, the feeling of Heather’s lips brushing against my abs as she pulls my boxers down is fucking distracting.
“But also, spending time with the people in my life who matter.”
Heather’s fingers wrap around my cock and start stroking up and down the length. My hips jerk involuntarily, and I’m pretty sure she can tell how close I already am.
“That’s a fantastic answer,” Evelyn says. “I love it.”
Heather licks a long line up the underside of my shaft, and then swirls her tongue around the tip before slowly wrapping her lips around me and taking me deep. I watch as the first several inches of my cock disappear between her lips, and have to bite back a moan.
“Thanks,” I say, because it’s the only response I can manage.
Evelyn keeps talking, but I’m not hearing anything she says. The world has shrunk to the feeling of Heather’s mouth wrapped around my cock, her hands gripping my thighs, her hair between my fingers.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“Uh, nothing. One second,” I grunt, barely finding the mute button in time before Heather pulls a desperate moan from my lips.
I thread my fingers through her hair, guiding her movements. I know how big I am, and I’m careful not to push too deep, but god, the needy little noises she makes as she tries to take more are driving me out of my mind.
Jesus. I can’t keep going like this. Not without making a huge mess right here in the middle of the kitchen.
“Wait,” I say, hating myself for stopping her but also physically pulling her off my cock because it’s the only way I can trust my own willpower. “Wait, Hurricane. If you keep going like that, I’m gonna lose control.”
