Page 42 of The New Guy
Gavin doesn’t hold back, either. He dives into the kiss, grinding his tongue against mine. This isn’t even a kiss anymore—it’s something dirtier. Weeks of corked up frustration, suddenly given its freedom.
His mouth wanders to my ear, my neck. He tries to taste me everywhere at once. But I miss his kiss, so I clamp one hand onto his bare ass and the other to the back of his neck, and I bring him back where I want him.
He allows it, and we spend some quality time trying to fuse our tongues together, until I’m grinding up against him, desperate for more.
“Fuck, you need it so bad, don’t you?” he pants against my mouth. “You’re gagging for it.”
“Yeah. Since the night we met.”
He groans. “Every time you give me that broody stare I just want to strip you down and suck you off.”
My body screams for a demonstration. “I’m available for that.”
“Finally.” With a horny chuckle, he rolls off me and yanks the covers down. His own dick bobs against his abs as he moves, and my mouth waters. He tugs on my T-shirt, and I have to stop staring to help him lift it over my head.
“Unngh,” he sighs, reaching out to run his fingertips through the happy trail that snakes down the center of my belly into my boxers. “Who knew I had a thing for bruised up hockey players with chest hair?”
It’s true that my torso is often smudged with purple and yellow bruises. That’s life for a defenseman. And I don’t wax, because nobody ever gets close enough to appreciate it.
But Gavin is loving it. He’s exploring my lightly fuzzed abs and sucking on my nipple, like a kid with a new toy. I dig my heels into the bed and push up off the mattress, hooking my thumbs in the waistband of my boxers.
“Hold up,” he murmurs. “That’s mine to unwrap.”
My body tightens with expectation as he takes over, tugging my underwear off my hips and flinging it over the side of the bed. Then he kneels between my legs and groans. “Fuck. Me. You are hoteverywhere.” He dips his head and kisses my leaking tip. Then he runs his lips lightly down my cock.
Now I’ve lost my ability to speak. All I can do is grunt. And pray that he does that again.
“Hudson,” he whispers, and now I have goose bumps, too. He looks up at me from between my legs, and the gleam in his heavy-lidded eyes makes me hazy with desire. Without dropping my gaze, he takes me into his hot mouth.
The slick heat makes me shudder and gasp. I drop a hand to his hair and tighten my fingers in it. “If you keep that up, I won’t last long,” I pant. “I dream about this. And when I’m on your table, I have to think about ugly thoughts just to keep myself in check.”
He hums around my shaft, and my goose bumps double. Then he sucks me reverently, like he wants to draw it out. With a slow tongue and long glances and his thumb lightly stroking my sac, like a tease.
It’s so hot. But I still want more. I want to make him feel as wild as he’s making me feel. “Come here,” I rasp. “Need to touch you.”
He doesn’t wait for a second invitation. He scales me like a tree, kissing me hotly, his hand still wrapped around my shaft, pumping slowly.
Although I’m proud of my top-notch self-control, it’s a miracle I haven’t come already. I knock his hand off my cock and take hold of his. He’s satin over steel, and when I close my hand around him, he moans and shudders.
And I love it. My stroke is fast, and overeager.
“Yes,” he pants against my mouth. “I like it rough.”
Goddamn. The words make me want to come all over him. But I clench my thighs and concentrate on stroking him mercilessly. “Fuck my hand,” I order. And when he thrusts his hips, I plunge my tongue into his mouth.
He moans, his body moving against me in a pulsing rhythm. He leans back just far enough that I can see the splash of color on his face, and the slick of his swollen lips from my bruising kisses.
Then he comes on a shudder, holding my gaze—red-faced and starry-eyed. Like he wants me to see how badly I’m wrecking him. The heat of his seed dripping through my fingers is the thing that pushes me past the point of no return. I take myself in hand and stroke. It only takes a second.
Lord knows what noises I’m making as I shoot,finally, coating us both and shuddering with relief.
Then silence, except for gasping breaths. He sags onto my body, his sweaty face nuzzled into my neck.
Wrapping my arms around him, I hold on tightly. My heart gallops happily inside my chest.
My imagination hadn’t done him justice, either. Gavin is the hottest man to ever walk into my life. And I can’t believe I resisted him as long as I did.
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