“Fuck, I need to be inside you,” he murmurs, his voice thick as he pumps into my hand.
He takes a step back, and when I’m forced to release him, he moans. Pants torn off, he grabs a condom and rolls it on.
As the fabric of my shirt slips over my head, I find Cameron staring at me, mouth hanging open as if this is the first time he’s seeing me naked.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
I toss my bra to the floor and crook my finger. “You’re not too bad yourself.”
With a hand buried in my hair, he claims my mouth in a deep kiss. Instinctively, my legs wrap around his waist, and as he eases himself inside me, I drop my head back and moan, relishing the full sensation. Hands on him, I roam the hard contours of his body. His muscles ripple beneath my fingers, contracting and relaxing as he moves, rocking his hips against mine. I meet his thrusts and match them, grinding against him in a frantic rhythm.
Head lowered, Cameron captures one of my tightly beaded nipples between his lips and sucks hard. My back bows, and as he grazes his teeth against the sensitive tips, a whimper shivers out of my throat.
“Fuck yes,” I say feverishly.
He cups my breasts, switching between kneading and molding them with his hands and sucking and biting with his mouth. I melt into the sensation, my head swimming. He’s likely leaving marks on my chest, but I couldn’t care less. He lowers his thumb to my clit, and I jerk at the pressure, whimpering at the overstimulation.
“Fuck, you like that, don’t you, baby?” he whispers against my chest, a chuckle in his tone. “I can feel you clenching around me.”
“Don’t stop,” I beg as my body races toward the finish line. “Please, don’t stop, Cameron.”
“Never.”
He steadies his pace, waves of warmth flowing through me like lava. I make unintelligible sounds, lost to every sensation. The buildup of tension explodes into shimmering shards of pleasure, and I clamp down as my world splinters, pinpointing on the all-consuming euphoria. I dig my heels into the small of his back as the peak of my orgasm washes through me, legs trembling and vision blooming at the edges.
With three more deep thrusts, Cameron lets out a deep groan and stills his hips, head tipped back and eyes squeezed shut as his own release tears through him.
“You’re going to ruin me,” he grits out, voice thick with need.
I smile through my orgasm-induced daze. “Good. It’s only fair since you’ve already ruined me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
cameron
It’s latewhen I get to the practice arena. The rink is closed, the parking lot empty, so I use my security access fob to gain entry. I flip on just enough overhead lights to keep me from shooting blind, then take in the stillness. The ice sits silent and smooth, the cavernous space quiet except for my breathing. This is what I came for: the peace of an empty rink, no noise, no pressure.
I drop my bag at the bench and lace up my skates. I don’t bother with the rest of my gear since I’m solo. I only want to move, to do something with my body that will keep my mind occupied.
I drag a bucket of pucks to center ice, the skates on my feet already settling the agitation inside me.
Twenty-four years today.
I flip a puck onto my stick and fire it at the empty basket. It flies in, hitting the back of the net with a mutedwhoosh. The next puck skitters wide and hits the boards. It’s fine. I’m not really aiming. I work through the bucket, shot after shot, until my arms burn and sweat drips down my back despite the cold.
The building creaks and settles around me. I should go home. Maybe eat or check in with Soph or try to sleep since tomorrow’s a game day. But I’m not ready to leave yet, because out here, alone in the cold and the dark, it somehow feels easier to breathe.
I collect the scattered pucks, the scrape of my skates on the ice the only sound in the world, then dump them back at center ice and line up another shot. I’m halfway through the bucket when the rink doors open with a bang, followed by muffled swearing, then footsteps on concrete. The entrance is anything but graceful or sneaky. I know without looking up that it’s Kennedy.
Moments later, she appears in my sightline, dressed in jeans, one of my sweatshirts that she’s commandeered, and those god-awful earmuffs that she somehow looks cute in.
“Hey, baby cakes,” she calls out, voice echoing against the boards. Her breath makes small clouds in the cold air as she talks, but if the temperature bothers her, she doesn’t let it show.
“You’re not allowed to be here,” I say, but there’s no venom behind my words.
“Cole gave me his key fob.” She climbs up to sit on the penalty box, legs dangling. “And unlike you, I’m a badass who doesn’t mind breaking the rules from time to time.”
I stare at her for a second, warring emotions pounding at my chest. Then I turn back and fire off another shot. It goes wide and hits the boards with a hollow thud. “Badass, huh?”
