The Fake Out: a fake dating hockey romance (Vancouver Storm Book 2)
The Fake Out: a fake dating hockey romance: Chapter 66

WHILE WE KISS, Rory lifts me up and carries me to his bedroom, gently setting me down on the bed before kneeling on the floor in front of me. The air buzzes with electricity as his mouth moves over mine, pulling apart for a second at a time to remove each other’s clothes, until finally, I’m sitting on the bed in a lavender bra and matching thong.

“I really needed you today,” he whispers, throat working, and the look in his eyes is so heartbreakingly vulnerable that emotion pulses through me.

I know this. When it comes to his mom, he’s lost, and I just want to hold his hand and make sure he’s okay.

God, I want to be that person for him. So badly.

“Say those words again,” I whisper. “From earlier.”

He smiles, holding my face while he presses a kiss to my lips. “I love you.”

I sigh, practically floating, and he climbs over me on the bed. Like every time we kiss, I forget everything else except the feel of his mouth, his hand slipping into the back of my hair, his knee nudging between mine. He settles between my legs, and the impressive length of his cock pressing against my clit sends sparks racing through me. My lips part and his tongue slips between them, and when I suck on it lightly, Rory’s breath catches, and a low, pleasured noise comes from deep in his chest.

“Jesus,” he murmurs before stroking back into my mouth, tasting me. I arch against him because something in that one word tells me exactly how much he needs me, how he might lose his mind if he can’t have more. His hips tilt against me, fingers tightening in my hair, and shivers of delight and arousal dance down my spine. “I could come from just this, Hartley, I swear.”

An aching throb starts low in my stomach, and I must make a noise of protest or need or both because he lets out a low chuckle that I want to lick off his smiling mouth.

“But I won’t.” Another slow, lazy kiss. My panties are damp. “And not before you get what you need.”

Our kiss moves from slow and thoughtful to fast and urgent.

“Every time I jerk off, I think about the way your pussy tastes. I never fucking last, thinking about that.”

I moan, arching against him again, chasing friction as I grind my hips into his. His cock hits the bundle of nerves between my legs and my whole body tightens.

He hovers over me, pressing himself into that spot again, making my eyes roll back. His mouth hooks into a smug, pleased smile, eyes hot and pinning me. He rewards me with a line of nipping kisses down my throat before he sucks a sensitive spot at the base of my neck, and I moan, tilting my hips toward him shamelessly.

“Are we doing this tonight?”

“Yes,” I gasp as his tongue does small circles in the divot above my collarbones. “I fucking hope so.”

“Good.” His eyes darken and he rests his forehead on my sternum as he takes a deep breath. His expression tells me this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Me, too, I think.

I want him. I don’t care about the consequences, and I don’t care if I get hurt.

His hand slides between my legs and he presses a firm circle against the front of my panties. My back arches as pleasure loops through me.

“Oh my god,” I murmur, looking up at Rory’s dark, lazy grin.

“You get so wet for me.” A flush spreads over his cheekbones. “I fucking love that, Hazel.”

I jerk a nod, running my hands over his chest while his hand works between my legs, winding me higher, but when I reach for his stiff cock pressing against my stomach, he shakes his head.

“Not yet.”

“Please.”

He lets out a low laugh and lifts his eyebrows, still rubbing intoxicating, pleasurable strokes against that bud of nerves. “I’m not going to last if I give you what you want.”

His gaze drops to my breasts and his expression turns tight. A moment later, he’s on his knees, reaching around to unhook my bra and yank my panties down.

“That’s better,” he says before his hand returns to my pussy and I arch into him.

His lips replace my nipple, and the feel of his tongue on the pinched peak sends electricity rippling through me.

I reach for his cock again, but he grasps my wrist and pins it to the bed above my head.

“Give me your other hand,” he says, still massaging my clit, and I desperately want him to keep going, so I do what he says.

He binds my wrists together with his big hand, and a slow smile spreads over his mouth.

“I don’t know why I like this with you,” he says, gaze flicking up to where his hand holds my wrists down, “but I do.” His throat works and he’s breathing hard, studying my face between glances at where his hand moves between my thighs. “I just want you all to myself.”

Pressure builds low in my belly, around the base of my spine, and behind my clit. “I want that, too,” I admit. “I like when you do this.”

He smiles that dark, pleased smile again like it was the perfect thing to say, and I get another hit of pleasure from giving him what he needs. Whatever Rory wants, I want to give it to him.

His jaw tightens as his fingers slide through my wetness. “You know you’re mine, right?”

I nod again, eyelids drooping at the increasing ache behind my clit.

“Mine and only mine.”

My toes curl. I never thought I’d love hearing those possessive words out of Rory’s mouth, but here I am, soaking them up with delight.

“Say it.” His amused voice is cut with possession, and his gaze pins me.

“Yours and only yours,” I breathe. “I need to come.”

He sucks in a sharp breath and releases my wrists. “Get on your stomach.”

“What?” I lift my head as he kneels, waiting. His cock juts out, begging for my attention, moisture beading on the tip. I lean forward and lick it off, and his hand sinks into my hair, gripping tight. “Hazel.” His tone is dark and teasing as he pulls me back from his cock by the hair. “What did I just say?”

Even though I’m wound tight, swirling with heat and pressure and the desperate need to come, I’m laughing silently.

“I can’t remember,” I lie, grinning at him, and he shakes his head, eyes bright and mouth curling into something wicked.

Wicked and fucking hot.

“I was going to fuck you,” he says in that playfully threatening voice, still holding the back of my hair in his fist. “But now I’ve changed my mind because you’re a fucking brat.”