Page 99 of The One Night Dash
My breath catches. “That sounds like a threat.”
“That’s a damn promise.”
And sure enough, an hour later, the bed groans, creaks, and then gives with a sharpcrackunder us. I’m breathless with laughter while he’s on the phone, still sprawled across me, ordering a California king like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Steam risesoff my skin and pools against the foggy glass when I hear the click of the bathroom door, and Dash staggers in, completely and gloriously naked, sporting a lazy grin, his hair sticking up in all directions. He stretches, his erection bobbing slightly as he does, hand behind his neck, rubbing it like he’s working out a kink.
“Morning, Pembrooke. How do you feel about me taking a piss while you’re in the bathroom?” he says, his tone casual, as if we hadn’t spent last night exploring each other’s bodies in detail—his fingers expertly stroking me until I writhed beneath him as he sucked my clit, making me fall apart.
“Better than I would if you used the litter box.” I giggle.
“Perfect,” he says as he proceeds. “I mean, you girls use the bathroom together all the time, so I hope this doesn’t offend you.”
“There’s one toilet here,” I say casually as I try and fail to watch him pee. Okay, I know that may seem off, but I’m acurious soul, and yeah, an author, so … research. My already sensitive insides clench involuntarily at the thought of what that beautiful thing did to me last night.
He finishes, shakes himself off, flushes, and instead of getting into the shower like a normal person, he presses his entire body against the glass.
“I heard some talk about a hockey rink being a man aquarium. What do you think?”
I laugh. “I think you’re ridiculous and I am oddly turned on.”
His erection is pressed firmly against the foggy surface as our eyes lock in a heated challenge. My breath catches in my throat while I imagine him pushing deep inside me and knowing precisely which angle to thrust.
“Gonna state the obvious here, but so am I. You good with a proper good morning?”
“Why aren’t you already in here?”
He steps into the shower with me and leans in for a kiss, our bodies pressed together under the warm water. I feel his finger slide down my wet skin, gently teasing my clit before slipping inside me. My back arches in response to the sensation, already wanting more.
With his other hand, he cups my breast, kneading it firmly as he continues to move his fingers in and out of me. Our eyes remain locked; the intensity between us grows stronger with each breath. I can’t take it any longer; I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer.
He positions himself at my entrance and teases me for a moment before finally thrusting inside. The initial penetration sends shivers down my spine as he simultaneously bites my neck gently. His strong arms hold on to me tightly as we fall into sync.
My nails dig into his back as the pleasure builds within me, moaning louder with each stroke. He picks up the pace, meetingmy hips with relentless force and hitting that perfect angle deep within me.
I tense up, thighs quivering, and a sharp gasp escapes my lips. “Come with me.”
“I have more to give, Noelle.” He grunts as his pace increases, muscles tightening beneath my hands. “Fuck, you feel too good to stop now, or ever.”
“Dash,” I cry as my body explodes.
He holds tighter, keeping me in position when I could easily fold, grunting curses against my neck until he comes.
“Never showered with a woman before,” he admits between soft kisses. “Never came so hard as I do with you.”
“Same.”
TWENTY-FOUR
DASH
Game days start early, no matter how late the night before ran or how badly I wanted her for breakfast and not the protein bowl Elliot handed me.
By eight thirty a.m., I’m on the ice for morning skate—pucks popping off blades, coaches barking reminders we don’t need but take anyway. By ten fifteen, I’m in the training room, cooling down, stretching, getting taped where I need it. By eleven, I’m loose and ready, head locked on tonight’s game.
See, scheduled.
“Sterling,” Faulkner calls across the room, smirk sharp, “you even live at the palace anymore? Or is that just your mailing address?”
