Page 73 of Forecheck
I figured I was a goner when Brent thrust two fingers into me and curled them against that spot only he had ever been able to reach. Trying to coax his orgasm out before I shattered completely, I grabbed his balls and rolled them in my palm, grinning around his cock when he bucked his hips, his head branding the back of my throat.
“Berk,” he rasped against me.
“Don’t fucking stop.”
I was so damn close, and he obeyed without question, suctioning his mouth around my clit, adding a third finger, and fucking me harder. The stretch was impossible, but so fucking good. My eyes rolled back in my head, both from the pleasure rolling out in waves from my pussy and the fact that I was pleasuring him. I scraped my teeth a little harder down his length, moving from his balls to the base of his shaft, squeezing tightly, moving my lips and tongue faster up and down.
After that, we were all sensation, sloppy sounds, and sighs of relief as our releases barreled into us both at the same time. I fucking loved the way he spurted into my mouth, and his groan against my pussy as I came around his fingers while he spilled down my throat.
“Fuck,” he said when I’d swallowed his load completely and pulled away, boneless as I collapsed over his torso. “This is a view I could get used to.” He punctuated his words with a smack then playful bite of my ass.
“I’m not big on balls in my face usually,” I said. “But…shit, if it’s like that every time, I’d be okay with it.”
“It’s never been like that,” he said. “Not for me anyway.”
“You’ve never come like that?” I asked, confused.
“No, I have,” he said, then flipped me off him and moved to hover over me. “I’m a man, Berk. Getting me off isn’t rocket science.”
I frowned. I didn’t like that response, didn’t like considering all the women who’d been here, naked in bed with him, before me. I resisted the urge to cover my chest as I said, “Then what do you mean?”
As if realizing he’d upset me, he brought a hand up to cup my cheek, brushing his thumb along my bottom lip. “Every time we’re together, whether it’s in bed like this, or fully clothed doing something mundane, I feel closer to you than I did the last time. So yeah, I’ve come like that before. But it’s never been that good.It’s never fucking taken my breath away. That’s all you, Berkley. I couldn’t reach that level of pure…bliss without you.”
“Nice save,” I said, unable to hold back my grin.
“I don’t ever want you to think I’m not all in with you. I’ve never felt like this before, Berkley. It’s only you.”
I craned my neck to press a kiss to the tip of his nose, my voice hoarse when I said, “It’s only you for me, too.”
With those words, he lined himself up and slid inside me. I welcomed him greedily, sighing happily when he was fully seated.
Our sex was slow and thorough, and he passed out shortly after, completely sated.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t shut my mind off enough to sleep.
I rolled onto my side to face him, relishing this opportunity to study him. His thick, dark hair was always slightly too long, even right after a haircut, but was always the perfect length to sift my fingers through—which I did now. Dark brows were situated over eyes that, though currently closed, were my favorite shade of blue and fringed by criminally long eyelashes. A long, nearly perfect nose was marred only by a scar across the bridge where he’d broken it in college by taking a puck to the face. Soft lips were framed by dark stubble, a shadow of the full beard he could grow in only a few days.
He was a beautiful man, the kind sculptures were modeled after. While his physical appearance and talent as a hockey player were what had initially drawn me in, that wasn’t what made me stay. That wasn’t what kept me coming back to his side, his arms, his bed. No, I stayed, because I was falling for him, this smart, loyal, funny, sweet, and ridiculously generous man.
Falling in love was terrifying, and giving Brent the ability to hurt me terrified me more than anything, save the possibility of living my life without him.
Brent Jean was the kind of man love songs were written about, but he was also the kind that inspired the heartbreak ones, too. I only prayed our relationship was worthy of a beautiful ballad instead of one of those lonely country songs.
Five For Fighting
“I fucking hate playingin Canada,” Coach said during the second intermission of our game in Toronto. It was a few nights after I’d invited Berkley and Lexie to Vegas, and I couldn’t stop thinking about my dick in her mouth.
“That makes two of us,” Jordan said. As captain, he was responsible for advocating for the team with the refs, and tonight, it hadn’t been going well. “What is even happening out there? I feel like we’re all flopping around like fish out of water, and that includes the Tritons.”
“The officiating is terrible,” Grey said.
“We’re professionals, not peewees,” Rat added. “Why can’t they just let us play?”
“I wish I knew,” Coach said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “But we can’t change it. I know it’s hard out there when they won’t let game play go on for longer than a few minutes without a whistle, but keep playing our game. Things will go our way if we just keep playing our game.”
Easier said than done.
Midway through the third period, I watched as Rat took a face-off and tapped the puck behind him, right onto my waiting stick. I raced through neutral ice, pausing at the entrance to our offensive zone, nudging the puck over the line right before my teammates and I crossed over. I chipped it into the corner for Grey, who quickly sent it up to the point to Mitch, who slid it across to Cole, and around and around we went. When I got the puck back, I wound up for a slapshot. It bounced off the skate of a Tritons player, but the Tritons’ goalie was waiting and easily covered it with his glove.
