“Come on my cock,” he commands, his hand sliding between us to rub my clit. “Let me feel you come apart around me. Give it to me.”
The combination of his cock filling me and his fingers on my clit is too much. I shatter again, crying out his name as though it’s the only thing that matters. My pussy clenches around him so hard I see literal stars.
“Fuck, Gianna,” he groans, dropping my leg so he can wrap his arms around me. Holding me close, he comes. His hips stutter as he fills me with hot cum with his face buried in my neck.
We stay like that for a long time, both of us breathing hard. Our bodies slick with sweat, but neither of us try to pull away. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest, matching the erratic beat of my own.
Finally, he lifts his head to look at me. When his eyes meet mine, there's something soft in his expression that wasn't there before.
“You're going to be the death of me,” he says quietly.
I grin up at him, trying to play off the intensity of this moment with humor. “That sounds like a pretty incredible way to go.”
He huffs a laugh, making his cock jump inside me, and I hiss at the sensation. Carefully, he pulls out of me, rolling onto his back beside me. I immediately miss the weight of him and his warmth.
As though he heard my thoughts, he reaches out for me, pulling me to his body. I settle into his side, my head on his chest, tangling my legs with his.
“Give me five minutes to recover,” he mutters, throwing his other arm over his eyes. “Then, I'm taking you to my bed so we can do that all over again.”
“You need five whole minutes?” I tease. “Does the old man need a break?”
Without looking at me, the arm wrapped around me moves, quickly slapping my ass. “Keep talking and I'll show you exactlyhow much stamina this old man has. I’m a professional athlete, baby.”
I laugh and massage my sore butt, but I don't push it. Instead, I just curl into his side, staring up at the man I’ve been missing for months.
After a few minutes, I hear his breathing even out, and I know he’s asleep.
I shift slightly so I can get a better look at him. While asleep, he looks younger somehow. Less guarded. The lines around his eyes have smoothed out, and his mouth is relaxed.
He is so fucking beautiful.
Honestly, I still don’t understand what a professional athlete wants from me. That’s how I felt the morning I woke up and realized that he’d left me in the cabin. It hurts, but a lot of the hockey players are known for their random hookups.
Since I started following the league on social media, I’ve seen more scandals involving players than I thought possible. Just the other day, one of the Boston Bears found out that he has a baby girl he didn’t know about.
The world they live in is so foreign to me, even though I’ve known Maxton for years. Maybe this is what they do. Maybe Maxton is the anomaly, and the others don’t want to commit to a partner.
Is Daemon the same as the rest of his teammates? Does he just want to fuck around with random women? Is that what I am to him? Just a random hookup to pass the time with?
Slowly, I lean up and place a soft kiss on Daemon’s cheek. He doesn’t move at the touch, so I carefully untangle myself from him and sneak away from the sleeping man.
Seven
Daemon
I wake up alone on the rug in the middle of my living room.
The first thing I register is that the fireplace has been turned off. When I reach over to where Gianna should be, I find her spot on the carpet cool to the touch, meaning she’s been gone for a while.
Gianna snuck out without saying goodbye.
The thought hits me harder than it should considering I did the same thing to her the night we met.
I sit up and run a hand through my hair, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in my chest. Of course she left. That's what people do after sex like that. They leave before it gets complicated.
I should be relieved that she left before we had to have an awkward conversation. Except I'm not relieved. I'm disappointed, and that pisses me off.
Reaching across the living room floor, I grab my boxer briefs from where they landed after I took them off. The living room is a disaster with clothes and items we knocked over scattered everywhere. I catch sight of the clock on the wall as I turn toward the kitchen and note that it’s three in the morning.
