Page 98 of Player Misconduct
I reach my hands around the back of her thighs and lift her. She wraps her legs around my waist as I carry her toward the bedroom.
I carry her through the doorway, her thighs tight around my waist, her mouth never leaving mine. The bedroom is dark, I never bothered to turn on the lights. I only planned for dinner and the stars, of course... I hoped for more.
Moonlight slants through the window, painting everything silver-blue.
I set her down on the edge of the bed, gentle, one hand cupping the back of her head so she doesn't jar. She's breathing hard, cheeks flushed, eyes dark and wanting. Her hands find my chest, fingers splaying wide like she's trying to memorize the architecture of my ribs.
I reach for the hem of her sweater dress, pausing to meet her eyes. She nods, lifts her arms, and I pull it over her head in one smooth motion. Underneath: a black bra, simple and devastating. The swell of her belly, round and perfect. I bend to press my lips there first—a kiss to the place our son is growing, safe and warm.
She makes a sound low in her throat, fingers threading into my hair.
I kiss her again, just above her navel. Then lower. Then at the waistband of her underwear. Her hips shift, seeking, and I hook my thumbs into the elastic and slide them down her legs. She lifts, helping, and then she's bare from the waist down, sitting on the edge of my bed like a prayer I don't deserve to answer.
"You're so beautiful," I say, voice rough.
"I'm huge," she counters, but there's no heat in it.
"You're perfect." I kiss the inside of her knee. "Every single part of you."
Her breath hitches when I move higher, lips tracing the soft skin of her inner thigh. I take my time, savoring the way she trembles, the way her fingers tighten in my hair when I get close but don't give her what she wants yet.
"Aleksi, please—"
"I know," I murmur against her skin. "I've got you."
I spread her thighs wider, settle between them, and the first taste of her makes my brain go quiet. Salt and heat and something uniquely hers. She gasps, hips jerking, and I hold her steady with one hand splayed across her belly, the other gripping her thigh.
I work her slowly, learning what makes her shake, what makes her moan my name like a curse and a benediction. She's slick and wanting, and when I slide two fingers inside her she clenches around me immediately, already close.
"Don't stop," she breathes. "God, don't stop—”
I don't. I curl my fingers, find the spot that makes her back arch, and keep the pressure steady while my tongue circles her clit in rhythmic strokes. Her thighs start to shake. Her breathing turns ragged. And then she's there—coming apart with a cry that she tries to muffle against her own hand, her body pulsingaround my fingers, her other hand fisted in my hair so tight it borders on painful.
I don't stop until she's boneless, until she's pulling me away with shaking hands.
"Too much," she gasps.
I press one last kiss to her inner thigh, then rise to my feet. My cock is straining against my jeans, aching, but seeing her like this—flushed and sated and still trembling—is worth the wait.
She reaches for my belt, fingers clumsy with need. "Off. Now."
I help her, shucking jeans and boxers in one motion. My cock springs free, already leaking, and her eyes darken when she sees it.
"Come here," she says, scooting back on the bed.
I follow, crawling over her carefully, bracing my weight on my forearms so I don't crush her belly. She spreads her legs, making room for me, and the head of my cock brushes against her entrance.
I push in slowly, inch by inch, and the feeling of her—wet and tight and bare around me—makes my vision blur. She's so hot, so perfect, and the lack of barrier between us feels monumental, like a wall coming down.
"Fuck," I breathe when I'm fully seated. "Kendall—"
"Move," she says, nails digging into my shoulders. "Please, Aleksi, move—"
I do. I pull out halfway and thrust back in, slow and deep, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. There's none. Just pleasure, raw and honest, written across her features.
I set a rhythm—steady, deep, hitting the spot inside her that makes her gasp every time. Her hands roam my back, my shoulders, my ass, pulling me closer, deeper. The room fills with the sound of skin on skin, our breathing, the small desperate noises she makes when I angle my hips just right.
"You feel so good," I murmur against her neck. "So fucking good—"
