My hands were shaking as I slicked my fingers. Actually shaking. Derek Sullivan, seven years in the pros, nerves of steel on the ice, and my hands were trembling because I was about to touch Théo Beaubien for the first time in three weeks.
Get it together.
I pressed one finger against his entrance and watched his face as I pushed in. The way his mouth fell open. The flutter of his lashes. The soft exhale he made.
“More,” Théo demanded, spreading his legs wider.
“Patience.”
“I’ve been patient for three weeks.”
Fair point. I added a second finger, working him open, watching him take it. His heels dug into my lower back, urging me on, and I crooked my fingers, searching—
He cried out, back arching off the bed, and I grinned savagely.There.
“You don’t have to be gentle,” he panted. “I won’t break.”
“I know you won’t.” I pressed that spot again just to watch him writhe. “But I want to take my time. Want to feel every part of you.”
That was a lie. I didn’t want to take my time at all. I wanted to bury myself inside him and fuck him until neither of us couldwalk. But some part of me—the part that wasn’t completely feral—wanted to savor this. To make it last.
I added a third finger and he keened, high and desperate, and my self-control crumbled.
“Ready?” My voice was strained, barely recognizable.
“Yes, please, now.”
I withdrew my fingers and fumbled with the condom, rolling it on with hands that still weren’t steady. He watched me, dark eyes glazed with want, and I had never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
I lined up and pushed in.
The tight heat of his body swallowed me inch by inch and I had to stop halfway, jaw clenched, every muscle locked down. If I moved too fast I was going to come like a fucking teenager on the first stroke.
“Okay?” I managed, forehead pressed to his.
“More than.” His hands slid up my back, nails dragging lightly. “Move.”
I bottomed out and gave myself one breath. Two. Then I pulled back and thrust in hard.
The sound he made was obscene. I did it again, and again, setting a rhythm that was probably too fast, too rough, but I couldn’t help myself. Three weeks of want had built up inside me like a pressure valve and now it was releasing all at once.
“Three weeks,” I growled against his throat, hips snapping forward. “Never again. I can’t—I can’t do three weeks without this again.”
“Then don’t.” He gasped as I shifted the angle, going deeper. “You’re mine and I’m yours, you know that, right?”
“Yes, snowdrop. All mine.” I kissed him, messy and graceless, all teeth and tongue.
“All yours,” he agreed, voice breaking on the last word.
Something cracked open in my chest. I reached between us, wrapping my hand around his cock, stroking in time with my thrusts. I wanted to feel him come. Wanted to be inside him when it happened.
“Come for me,” I demanded. “Come on, baby, let me feel it.”
He arched his back and I knew I was hitting that spot that made him see stars by the way he was whimpering, his hands scrabbling against the sheets. “Right there. Oh God, Derek, that feels so good. Fuck me hard, daddy.”
Sweat slicked both our chests and I gripped his hip and thrust harder. After a few more strokes, he shattered. His whole body seized, clenching around me so tightly it was almost painful, crying out my name as he spilled over my fist.
The sound of my name in his mouth—broken and desperate and his—was what did it. I buried myself deep and came so hard my vision whited out, pulsing inside him, collapsing against him as the aftershocks rolled through.
