Page 93 of The Puckable Playbook

He grins. “Keep talking hockey to me and see what happens.”

He lowers his hand to my backside, pulling me to him while he rolls his hard cock into me.

The contact makes me shiver. This is all so surreal. That I could conjure up any of these feelings in Zaiah emboldens me. With his hand still pressed to my back, I wrap my legs around his hips. He lifts me effortlessly, as if I’m weightless, and carries me to the closest wall, positioning me on it as he once more proves how hard he is, his stiff length rubbing against my leggings.

“Penalty for high sticking,” I eke out, my mind a complete mess while it’s trying to process all of these emotions.

“God, I love your brain.” He moves in, claiming my mouth. Somehow, his lips and his hips work in tandem until I’m flooded with heat, arousal lapping at me. My own body moves with him until he pins me to the wall, breaking the kiss. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

He changes up the pace, using his fingers to circle my clit while I gulp in breaths. Slowly, he lowers me to my feet, but continues dropping until he’s on his knees. His hands inch upward, grabbing my waistband and pulling down.

Suddenly, Zaiah’s between my legs, kissing a trail up my thigh. “Oh.”

“Is this okay?” he asks, eyes heavy. He pushes my thin panties aside, revealing more of my hip and kissing so close to the inside of my thigh where it meets the inferno currently firing.

I nod, my hips bucking into his mouth, and he moans deep, the sound near animalistic.

He hooks his fingers around my panties, tugging them out of the way. His hot breath hits my center. “Two minutes with this pretty pussy and I might die and go to heaven.”

He dives between my folds, licking straight up the middle, then curling his tongue around my clit.

“Zaiah,” I whisper, body moving of its own accord.

He tears himself away, staring at my center like a foodie drooling at a spread in front of him. I wiggle at his attention, andhe pulls my leg and places it over his shoulder before surging forward once more.

I’m open to him. Bared. He takes his time, unlocking me like a puzzle, trying new things, but going back to the ones that curl my toes and the most unholy sounds leak out of my mouth.

“You taste so good, sweetie.”

Every time I attempt to move my hips against his face, he pushes them back to the wall. “I want to make you come all on my own. I want to hear you scream my name.”

I groan when he returns, working my body like he has the playbook in his back pocket. His lips, his tongue placed perfectly where I need them, molding me until I’m living for the moment.

“Zaiah,” I whisper as he brings me higher and higher. It’s like climbing a cliff in anticipation of the actual jump.

My limbs shake. I fist his hair while he flicks his tongue across my clit.

“Oh, baby. Come on my face.”

Holy shit.He works me higher, my body barreling forward. “I’m going to—”

He sighs and moans, and my lungs return the favor. The pants coming out of me would make me die of embarrassment if it wasn’t with him.

I pull his head closer until my nerve endings explode, and I shout, “Zaiah!” My scream echoes so loud it startles me, but the feeling is quickly replaced by undeniable pleasure.

His tongue slows as my body jerks into his mouth.

“Fuck, sweetie. I need you to wear my jersey every day.”

I laugh, my body convulsing, and then he moves my panties back into place before getting to his feet, his arm sweeping underneath my knees and carrying me to my room.

He lays me out on the bed, and it takes a while for my heart to return to normal. Zaiah’s wrapped me in his arms again, holding me.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs.

“If you say so.”

He kisses the top of my head. “It’s a new law of physics. When Lenore Robertson orgasms, flowers within a hundred-mile radius bloom.”

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