The Fake Out: a fake dating hockey romance (Vancouver Storm Book 2)
The Fake Out: a fake dating hockey romance: Chapter 49

“FUCKING FINALLY,” Hazel says when I pull my pants and boxers down and my cock springs free, hard as fuck and beading with pre-cum.

Every muscle in my body is tight with anticipation. She told me to take what I want, and the urge to fuck her has my cock so hard it hurts. My balls ache with need as I grapple for a reason why we shouldn’t do what we both want.

Her hand wraps around my length, and I stop thinking.

“Your cock is gorgeous,” she whispers, kneeling on the bed and stroking me, and a groan rumbles out of my chest.

“Yeah?” My hands are in my hair, tugging. Hearing my sharp-tongued Hazel lavish my dick with praise makes my scalp tingle.

“Mhm.” She smiles at it as she strokes before she leans down to lick the moisture off the tip, and a bolt of lust streaks through me.

“Fuck,” I choke out, and she sends me a wicked grin. “Hazel.”

I don’t even have the words to tell her I can barely hold off, that I’m straining for control, but somehow, she knows. Her smile is catlike as she moves to her back, head hanging off the edge of the bed.

I won’t survive this.

“Well?” she says, still smiling. “What are you waiting for—”

She moans as I push my cock between those pretty pink lips.

“God, yes.” Shiiit. It’s been a long time for me, but I still know it’s not supposed to be this good. Her lips stretch as I stroke all the way to the back of her throat, slow and careful, before I pull back. Her tongue flattens, dragging against the sensitive nerves, and a shudder rolls through me.

So fucking good like this. Her mouth, it’s heaven. I can’t string two thoughts together.

My hand lands on the bed beside her for balance. Each thrust into her mouth shoves me closer to coming.

Hazel wouldn’t give me the time of day, didn’t even like me, and now she’s moaning around my cock.

“Such a good girl for me, letting me fuck your mouth,” I groan.

My free hand drifts between her legs and my balls tighten when I feel how wet she is still. Her hips lift, chasing friction, and I can’t fight the lazy grin. My fingers sink deep inside her and she moans around my dick, making my abs tense.

“Yes,” I rasp, drawing my fingers in and out of her tight pussy in time with my cock in her mouth. “This, Hazel. This is what I need.”

She hums around me and I let out a noise of anguish and pleasure, deep and guttural. I feel like an animal, fucking Hazel’s mouth like this. Every primal, possessive urge rises to the surface. Her hand comes to my base, stroking, and my attention snags on how her lips stretch around me. I’m too big for her mouth, and the realization sets off another wave of heat through me.

Jesus fuck, I’m so close already.

I try to slow my strokes, but the urgent need to come lingers, pushing me harder. Like she can sense me holding back, Hazel sucks hard, cheeks hollowing out, and a desperate moan slips from me as I curl over her. I replace that sensitive spot inside her, working it hard, and she clenches.

The pressure at the base of my spine expands, and I’m shaking with the need to come. My thrusts in and out of her mouth turn jerky.

“Can I come on your tits?” I beg. “Please?”

“Mhm,” she moans, and my mind starts to splinter.

With my eyes on her lying beneath me like a fucking goddess, I pull out and stroke myself hard. Pleasure fires through me, racing through my blood, searing up my spine as I come, shooting all over the perfect swells of Hazel’s breasts, covered in soft pink lace. My whole body is tight as I pulse, waves of desire radiating through me.

Stars burst in front of my eyes; I’ve never come so hard in my life.

My caveman brain likes the way she’s covered in my come. A shudder of satisfaction rolls through me. Mine. Hazel’s mine. Wearing the lingerie I bought her.

I climb over her and kiss her hard, claiming her mouth, and her tongue tangles with mine, meeting me with every stroke. A dirty, depraved idea sneaks into my head, and I don’t have the self-control to keep it to myself.

“Are you on birth control?” I ask, still breathing hard.

She nods. “I have an IUD.”

My hand comes to her chest, swiping my fingers through my own release, and I hold her eyes as I bring my hand between her legs and sink my fingers back inside her.

Her eyelids drop halfway, and a desperate noise falls from her lips.

“There.” My voice is low. “That’s better.”

Something hot and urgent shoots through me, and I crook my fingers against her G-spot, watching her pretty, flushed face as her eyelashes flutter.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasps, tightening up.

The need to possess her has me by the throat. Another high, breathy moan slips from her lips as I fuck my cum inside her. Her nails dig into my biceps, and I wear a satisfied, smug smile.

Her eyes flare, going wide, and she ripples around my fingers. “This doesn’t happen,” she gasps, holding my arm tighter.

Oh, fuck. She’s going to come again. My skin prickles with anticipation.

“One more?”

She nods, blinking, tightening, and my instincts sharpen. I adjust my hand so my palm bumps her clit, and there—her head tilts back and her lips part. My fingers delve fast as she clenches. She’s saying “Yes, Rory” and “Oh my god, that’s so good” and “Just like that, baby,” and my blood courses with electricity.

I’m addicted to pleasing Hazel, it seems.

She rides it out on my hand, and her gaze turns desperate. “Kiss me,” she begs, and our mouths crash together. She moans against my tongue, soaking my hand, and I slow my movements as I feel her start to come down.

“What the hell, Rory?” she breathes with soft surprise. “That was so…”

She doesn’t finish the thought.

“Yeah.” I swallow, pulse beating in my ears. I can already feel the sleepy, sluggish post-orgasm haze settling in my body.

After we clean up, Hazel curls up against me in bed, her head on my chest, her hair brushing my skin, and her scent in my nose.

“Good night,” she whispers, and I press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Good night.”

I want to say more. I didn’t know fooling around could be like this. It doesn’t feel like fooling around; it feels like—

I’m not ready to even think that. Not when there’s a chance she doesn’t feel the same way.

So I just lie there, hoping that inside her head, she feels the same way.