She looks like a damn angel swathed in white. Her dark lashes rest on her cheeks that are flushed from the warmth of the room. A part of me wishes that I was the kind of guy who deserves her. That I could come home from every late-night game and find her here in my bed like she’s meant to be there.
Thoughts I shouldn’t even be thinking and that definitely don’t go with our rules.
When I press my knee into the bed to climb in with her, she stirs sleepily.
“Reed?” Her voice is husky with sleep, and fuck, it shoots straight to my dick.
“Yeah, babe, it’s me. How was tonight?”
She sits up on her elbows and looks at the clock. “God, I can’t believe I fell asleep. I was trying to wait up for you, but I must have dozed off while I was waiting.”
I pull the blanket back and slide into bed with her, pulling her small frame against me.
“I talked to the guys for a little bit, got caught up.”
“Mmm.” She wiggles against me slightly, causing me to bite my lip in restraint. I don't want to be a dick, but my dick has a thing for Holland and right now she’s pressed against it.
Untangling herself from my grip, she turns to face me and gives me a shy smile. “It’s kind of weird. Falling asleep in your bed. Don’t you think?”
I nod. “I can’t say I ever thought this would be a thing, but I’m not mad about it.”
She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, a sultry expression passing over her face. Her chest is rising quickly, the pulse in her neck pounding wildly. The feeling is mutual; Holland wants me just as badly as I want her.
“Been thinking about you all night. I could hardly focus on the damn puck.”
Her giggle is sweet. She inches closer until her lips are only a centimeter away from mine. I can feel her warm breath on my lips. So fucking close. I want to kiss those plump lips, then I want to hear my name fall from them like a prayer.
“Have you, Mr. Star Forward, hot shot NHL player?” She breathes, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. I feel her hands sliding down my chest, lower and lower, brushing over my abs that tighten against her touch. Her fingers dip underneath the cotton of my t-shirt to run against the bare skin above my waistband.
It makes me fucking shiver. I don’t know what this girl is doing to me, but everything she does drives me insane and now I want my hands on her. I can’t wait a second longer.
I lace my hands in her hair and yank her toward me until she collides with my lips, then roll until she’s beneath me. Her hands fist into my shirt, pulling me closer.
It’s not close enough. I want more. I need more with Holland. The irony of what this feels like isn’t lost on me. Instead, I kiss her harder, snaking my hands under the satin of her camisole until my finger brushes over the hard peak of her nipple. Her skin is as silky as the fabric of her shirt, and I want to run my tongue along the dips and valleys of her skin.
I use both hands to pull it over her head and then toss it to the side, leaving her naked from the waist up under me. The room is dark, with only the dim neon glow of the tv, but I can still make out the shape of her. She’s perfect. Everything a man could want in a woman. Her curves are perfect for my hands, and I’ll never tire of trying to memorize every inch of her.
There’s not enough time in the world to get my fill.
I’m always going to be starving for more.
I wrench my lips from hers and kiss down her neck, sucking on the spot that makes her pant my name, then move lower and lower until I can give attention to the needy hardened peaks. Rosy and pink, they seem to flush with her, standing out against her pale skin.
Switching from left to right, I suck, bite, and rub my beard along her breasts, scraping the sensitive flesh until she’s squirming beneath me. I drag her shorts down her body and she kicks them to the side. They pool at her ankles, leaving her in nothing but a tiny scrap of satin.
I rub my nose along the front of her pussy, inhaling her scent.
God, I love it. I want to bury my face in her pussy and eat her until I have to come up for air. Contrary to popular belief, men love the smell of their girls' pussy, and I plan to give it lots of attention that proves that theory correct.
“Reed,” Holland begs, pulling at the long strands of my hair as I kiss her greedy little clit through her panties.
“You need more, baby?” I run my tongue along the seam of her, still on top of her panties. She groans in frustration, and I laugh. “Mmm, I think you’re being a greedy girl, Holland.”
I wind the satin in my hand and pull, popping the strings free in one swift motion. Fuck, she’s so wet. I toss her panties to the side and take one long lick of her pussy, coating my tongue with her wetness.
Using my thumb, I trace her clit in gentle, teasing circles, driving her mad. I want her this way, wet and soaking, begging for me to slide inside of her to cure the ache.
“Reed, please.” She’s pleading now. Her voice desperate and edgy, and I fucking love it.