Page 51 of Breakaway

“You smell so good.” He licked her. “You taste so good.”

She quivered and throbbed for more, but let him take his time. He played and touched and explored with big broad fingertips, assertive yet gentle, and with his eyes, hot and avid. When he slid one finger inside her, she arched off the bed and fisted her hands into the bedspread.

“So tight,” he whispered. “So tight and hot. You have the prettiest pussy, Remi. So tiny and smooth and pretty.”

He laid a firm, closed mouth kiss right over her clit. She quivered. Pulsed. Ached.

And then he tasted her. His tongue swiped up in a long, luxurious lick, up one side of her slit, then the other. He nibbled and sucked at her pussy lips, gently drawing her sensitive flesh into his mouth. She writhed beneath him, eyes now tightly closed, everything centered on the sensation between her legs. She had never experienced oral sex like this. He worshipped her with his mouth, with lips and tongue and teeth, as if he couldn’t get enough of her, as if he wanted to eat her alive, breathe her in.

And then he closed his lips around her clit and sucked. She bucked off the bed again, made a low hoarse noise in her throat, turned her head from side to side on the mattress. He sucked and sucked, gently, then more firmly as pressure built inside her, exquisite twisting pressure. Her orgasm ripped through her like wildfire in her veins, her body taut and arching, and she cried out.

“Oh, dear god.” Her body limp, she whimpered as he continued to kiss her pussy with soft gentle purses of his lips and nudges of his tongue, so sensitive that every touch sent a barrage of sparks through her. “Stop, please.” She reached for him and tried to grab his hair. “I can’t take any more.”

“Mmmm.” He took one last little lick, then lifted his head. “Wanna make you come again, baby. You taste so damn sweet.”

“Please.” Her chest ached from trying to breathe.

“Please yes? Or please no?”

But he ignored her garbled response, probably couldn’t understand it anyway, and proceeded to lick her to another shuddering, mind-shattering orgasm

“I want you to stay,” he whispered to her much later. “But I have an early flight to Vancouver in the morning.”

She tilted her head and gave him a regretful smile. “Mmm. That’s okay.”

“I’ll drive you home.”

It sucked having to get out of bed and get dressed. Once at her place, he walked her to the door.

“Good luck,” she said. “I’m cheering for you guys. You can do it.”

“Thanks.” He paused. He didn’t want to leave her. He swallowed. “I’ll call you after the game.”

“Okay.”

He slowly walked back to his Jeep. It was the middle of the night. He didn’t want to leave her.

What was happening here? All he could think about was Remi, all he cared about was her and how she was feeling. He hated it that the paparazzi had scared her. It had never bothered him before, but suddenly it mattered to someone else and she mattered to him and…

He climbed into his vehicle and sat there for a moment. Christ.He had to stop thinking thoughts like that. He’d just broken up with one girl because she was getting too serious. He was in no way ready for a serious long term relationship. Hence the break up.

He was going to let loose and have fun in Vancouver like the single guy he was. Road trips were always good for some action.

This place was killing him.

They’d won their Sunday afternoon game against the Canucks. They’d been out for dinner to celebrate and now were hanging out in some glittery club not unlike Rouge, full of beautiful people in designer clothes. A bunch of girls had latched onto the hockey players, literally in some cases hanging off their arms, and Griff and Frenchy and the others were lapping it all up. Oh yeah, they’d be getting lucky tonight.

Jase had politely extricated himself from the clutches of a gorgeous redhead and then a hot blonde, finding himself bored and distracted. He’d had a few beers and didn’t want any more. The throbbing music was giving him a headache.

The peace and quiet of his hotel room was calling to him. He wanted out. So he left, to the surprise of his teammates.

Back at the hotel, he sat on the bed with the remote for the television and channel surfed. Nothing appealed to him. He decided to play Nintendo for a while, but when he kept screwing up, he ditched that too. He tossed aside the controller and stretched out on the bed, hands behind his head.

What the fuck had happened to the guy who was all about the fun?

Remi. He’d said he’d call her to tell her how the game went. He’d wanted to call her the minute he got off the ice, jubilant and triumphant, but had to deal with the television and newspaper reporters asking a million questions about heading into the playoffs with such a dismal record lately and the much-needed win and hishat trick. He was always polite and patient with the press. It was important for the team and for the league, so he always tried to give them his best, most thoughtful answers and take the time to chat with them.

He grabbed his cell phone and punched the button that was now Remi on speed dial. She answered right away.

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