Page 91 of The Pucking Arrangement

She laughs, flipping over and straddling me. “I thought I’d also give you something to think about during the game tonight.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. This woman. Always one step ahead, always leaving me wrecked. “Well, mission accomplished. That was...memorable.”

Erin grins, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to my jaw, grinding her hips over me. “Glad you enjoyed yourself, stud. Now it’s time to go be a responsible parent. I need to freshen up. You’ve got a big night ahead of you.”

She stretches as she stands, lazy and catlike, utterly unbothered by her own nakedness. And I—fuck, I stare. My eyes rake over every inch of her, the curve of her spine, the dip of her waist, the long, lean lines of her legs. She’s a goddamn goddess, and I’m not letting her leave before wrecking her again. I pounce, pulling her back down and slapping her ass cheek.

“Not so fast,solnyshko. We’re not done here.”

She squeals, but submits eagerly, letting me push her back on the sheets.

“Spread those legs for me, will you?” I demand, pushing her thighs open and trailing down, squeezing her perky tits possessively.

I need to fuck her again, to memorize every sound she makes when she falls apart beneath me.

She squirms as my tongue finds her opening. I lick and bite, reveling in her taste, in her moans as she shamelessly writhes her hips over my face. I push a finger into her tight cunt, feeling her convulse around me, and I hasten the pace of my thrusts, licking her fervently.

“Dmitri, ohmygawd, Dmitri,” she screams, unraveling on my face, withmyname on her lips.

I could die a happy man today.

But not yet. She is still pulsating as I pull myself up, lining my cock with her glistening entrance, pushing inside in one long stroke. She moans as I start to thrust through her orgasm, looking up at me with wild eyes. I increase the pace, claiming her the way I want. Frenzied, unhinged, and consumed by desperation, like the relentless, chaotic storm of the Shostakovich Sonata she performed last night.

It doesn’t take long until we both reach our peak, my cock pulsating in her core for a long time afterward, unwilling to pull out and set her free. Finally, I roll over and let myself fall on the pillows, surrendering to gravity.

We lie there in silence, neither of us willing to be the first one to shatter the moment. I want to stay here with her forever.

Bare. Exhausted. Complete.

But then little footsteps pad down the hallway, and reality slams into me like a check against the boards.

“Alright, vixen,” I groan, dragging myself upright. “You’ve had your fun. Now let me go be a good dad while you try to conceal the fact that you’ve been thoroughly, freshly fucked.”

She lifts and stands slowly, completely unhurried, completely at ease in her own skin. Over her shoulder, she tosses me a dirty little smirk. “Have fun catching pucks, big guy. I’ll be cheering you on...loudly.”

And just like that—boom.

It hits me.

Hard. Fast. No warning.

I’m in love.

The realization rattles my bones, leaving me winded. It’s real. It’s inescapable. It’s the most terrifying, exhilarating truth I’ve ever faced. I want to grab her, drag her back into bed, and tell her everything—but then Ris calls for me from downstairs, and the day barrels forward whether I’m ready or not.

The house is quiet, washed in the soft glow of the morning. I find my daughter perched on a stool, still in her pajamas, munching an apple, her strands wild from sleep.

“Morning, Papa,” she mumbles through a yawn. “Making pancakes?”

“You know it, Amnushka.” I ruffle her hair, grabbing ingredients from the fridge. “Chocolate chip or blueberry?”

“Chocolate!” She bounces a little. “With whipped cream!”

I chuckle, setting to work. “One chocolate chip monster pancake, coming right up.”

But my mind isn’t here. It’s upstairs. With Erin. With the way she felt wrapped around me, the way she tasted, the way she completely unmade me and then had the audacity to walk away like it was nothing.

“Papa, you’re burning it!”

---