Page 75 of The Hockey Contract

My hands explored the broad expanse of his shoulders, the firm muscles of his back, the nape of his neck where soft hair curled against my fingers. Every point of contact burned, every breath shared between us amplifying the connection that had been building for weeks.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, his forehead rested against mine, eyes closed as if gathering himself.

The plush hotel robe was suddenly my only barrier, thin silk against my rapidly warming skin. His hands rested lightly on my shoulders for a moment, his gaze intense, searching mine, and then, with a slow, almost languorous slide, they moved downwards, tracing the curve of my arms, my ribs, until they reached the edges of the robe.

The silk parted under his touch, whispering open like a secret revealed. The coolness of the air kissed my suddenly exposed chest, a fleeting shock quickly replaced by the heat radiating off Jax’s body, so close now. His thumbs brushed against the sides of my breasts, the featherlight touch sending a jolt straight to my core.

Our lips met again, and this time, there was no hesitation, no restraint. His mouth crashed down on mine, hungry and demanding, the kiss immediately deeper, wetter, more urgent than any we’d shared before. His tongue plunged past my lips, tangling with mine.

I gasped softly into his mouth, a breath stolen by the sheer force of the kiss, a moan that vibrated in my chest and against his lips. My fingers, which had been nervously hovering at my sides, now reached up, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, bunching the material in my fists, anchoring myself to him as if I were afraid of being swept away by the tide of sensation rising within me.

His hands, which had been teasing the edges of my robe, now slipped inside, beneath the silk, directly onto my bare skin. His palms were warm, calloused in just the right way, and they molded perfectly to the curves of my breasts, cupping their weight, his fingers gently kneading and squeezing.

A jolt of pure electricity shot through me, radiating outwards from my chest, making my nipples tighten and prickle beneath his touch. I moaned again, louder this time, a sound that was part pleasure, part need, part surrender.

He deepened the kiss, pulling me closer until there was no space left between our bodies. I could feel the hard ridge of his arousal pressing against me. My legs were suddenly weak, unsteady beneath me, but I didn't need to stand anymore.

With a low groan that rumbled in his chest, he shifted, his hands sliding down my back, then scooping beneath my thighs, lifting me off my feet in a fluid motion. The sudden change in elevation made my head spin. My arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, my fingers tangling in the soft hair at his nape, anchoring myself to him.

My robe slipped further open as he lifted me, pooling around my waist, practically forgotten. My legs, without conscious thought, wrapped around his waist, my ankles crossing at the small of his back, clinging to him like vines. Our bodies molded together, intimately, as if we were two halves of a whole.

He carried me across the room, his stride sure and steady, and I nestled closer against him, burying my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.

The bed was a sea of pristine white linen and plump pillows. He lowered me slowly, gently, onto the soft mattress, my back landing against the cool, smooth sheets. But he didn’t release me. He followed me down, his body hovering over mine, his weight supported by his hands on either side of my head.

“God, Sienna,” he breathed again, his voice raw with desire. “You are…” He trailed off, searching for the right word, and then simply shook his head, unable to articulate what he was feeling, what I was making him feel.

I reached up, my hands cupping his face, my thumbs tracing the hard line of his jaw, the stubble rough against my skin. “Show me what you’re feeling.”

His mouth found mine again, even more fiercely this time. He pushed back slightly, just enough to shrug out of his suit jacket, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud, unnoticed in the rising tide of our passion. Then his fingers went to the buttons of his shirt, working them with urgent haste, popping them open one by one.

He shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it aside to join his jacket, revealing the tanned expanse of his chest, the same chest I’d only glimpsed fleetingly before. This time, there was no hesitancy, no barrier. My eyes feasted on the sight, tracing the lines of muscle and shadow, the dusting of dark hair that arrowed down towards his belt.

He shifted again, straddling me now, his legs bracketing mine, his body a warm, solid weight pressing into me. The robe was pushed further down, now bunched around my hips, leaving my breasts exposed to his gaze. I felt a flicker of shyness, quickly overridden by a surge of pure exhibitionistic thrill.

His eyes dropped to my boobs, lingering there for a long, breathless moment, and I could practically feel the heat of his gaze burning into my skin. Then, slowly, he lowered his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive peak of my right breast, then circling outwards, his tongue tracing a wet, searing path around my nipple.

I gasped, my back arching off the bed again, my hands gripping his shoulders. His mouth closed over my nipple, suckling gently at first, then with increasing pressure, drawing the sensitive flesh between his teeth. A moan ripped from my throat, uncontrolled, unrestrained. Pleasure shot through me like lightning, radiating outwards from my breast, making my entire body tingle and ache with desire.

He moved to my other breast, showering it with the same exquisite attention, his mouth hot and wet, his tongue teasing and tormenting. His hands left my shoulders, sliding downwards again, roaming over my ribs, my waist, the curve of my hips, igniting fires everywhere they touched.

He shifted again, reaching for the belt at his waist, his eyes never leaving mine as he unbuckled it. He unzipped his trousers, the zipper hissing open, and then, he was tugging them down, along with his boxers, freeing himself from the last of his clothing.

My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him, fully naked, hard and ready between my legs. He was magnificent, sculpted and powerful, every inch of him radiating raw, masculine energy.

He moved back over me, settling between my legs, his hard dick nudging insistently against my thigh, teasing, tormenting. He leaned down, kissing me again, a deep, hungry kiss. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he shifted, positioning himself between my thighs.

I opened my legs wider for him, offering my wet pussy, wanting him inside me with a desperation that was almost painful.

And then, he entered me. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed into me, inch by agonizing inch, stretching me open, filling me. I gasped again, a sound that was half pleasure, half a sharp intake of breath at the sensation of his fullness inside me. He paused for a moment, letting me adjust, letting us both savor the connection, the intimate joining of our bodies.

Then, he started to move.

Slow, deep strokes at first, exploring the tight confines of my body, establishing a rhythm. His hands gripped my hips, anchoring me, guiding me, controlling the pace and depth of his thrusts. Each movement sent waves of pleasure rippling through me, building with each push, each retreat, each return.

I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, wanting to absorb him, to lose myself in the sensation. My hands moved to his back, splaying across the smooth skin, digging my fingers into the muscles as he thrust into me with increasing urgency. Moans started to escape my lips, soft at first, then louder, more demanding, as the pleasure intensified.

He changed the angle, lifting my legs higher onto his shoulders, deepening the penetration, hitting a spot deep inside me that sent sparks flying through my entire body. I cried out, my head thrashing from side to side on the pillow, my hips bucking against his in a frantic, instinctive rhythm.

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