The Fake Out: a fake dating hockey romance (Vancouver Storm Book 2)
The Fake Out: a fake dating hockey romance: Chapter 67

EXCITEMENT SWOOPS IN MY STOMACH. This is it, isn’t it? This is exactly what I’ve always needed in a guy. What Rory and I have trickles into everything. He is what I’ve always needed in a guy. My pulse picks up in anticipation.

“Get on all fours.”

I’ve barely turned over when his hands come to my hips and he hauls me to my knees, wet and bared for him. Hesitation streaks through me—I haven’t been in this position for years. It’s submissive and vulnerable, and I usually don’t like it.

Like he senses my skittish thoughts, his big hand smooths over my lower back. “You okay, baby?”

I focus on the warmth of his hand on my skin and nod, dragging in a deep breath. “Uh-huh.”

He’d never push me too far. He’s always watching me, gauging my reaction.

Behind me, he shifts, and his lips are on my back, kissing a trail down my spine. “Do you trust me, Hazel?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” I’m wet and aching, waiting for him to get me off, and my frustration slips through in my tone. “I trust you.”

He makes that low, pleased noise I love. “Good.”

His tongue circles my asshole and my eyes go wide at the warm, wet sensation. A hoarse noise of pleasure chokes out of me and his fingers tense on my hip.

“Have you done this before?” he murmurs as he strokes back and forth.

I’m blinking at nothing, my full attention on where his tongue touches me as heat moves through my body. “No.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes,” I gasp. I’m getting wetter. “Rory,” I moan. “I need to come. I need more.”

“I know you do.” Still, his tongue draws those lazy, slick circles against the tight pucker. “How badly do you want to come?”

My hands clench into fists. “I’m going to fucking kill you later.”

“I have no doubt.” His tongue delves inside me and I moan, high and needy. My spine is tingling. “Oh, fuck, Hazel,” he groans. “You just clenched on my tongue. That’s so good, baby. You’re doing so good.”

I grit my teeth, breathing hard. I’m about to burst out of my skin.

“If you want more, you need to earn it.”

I whimper, teetering on the edge of insanity. This is torture, but I love it. “What do you want?”

“Stay with me here until the League Classic.”

“What?” I can’t think straight when he’s touching me like that. “Until New Year’s?”

He pauses before pressing a kiss to my lower back, exhaling against my skin. “I like you being here. It feels right.”

His words and the way he says them, soft and sincere, settle right into my heart. “Okay. Yes. I’ll stay here.”

I’d probably say anything right now, with the way he has me worked up, but the past few days have been a dream, us in our own little snow globe.

“Say that it feels right.”

“It feels right.”

“Say that if we do this, it’s not the last time.”

My rule. My stupid rule that was supposed to keep me from catching feelings. “It’s not the last time.”

“Good girl.” Is that relief in his tone? “Alright, Hartley.” His hand returns between my legs, rubbing my clit in firm, wide circles with the flat of his fingers, fast and light, exactly the way I need, and goosebumps scatter across my skin. “You’ve pumped up my ego enough for tonight.”

My head sinks to the bed as I tip closer to the edge. The orgasm stirs and builds inside me as he slides his hand over me, his tongue stroking into my back entrance, claiming me, coaxing me closer. Need arcs through me, firing through my blood, and my body seizes up with pleasure as the pressure between my legs reaches a climax.

“I’m coming,” I moan into the mattress as Rory plays with my body, making my toes curl. The muscles in my core tighten, spasming around nothing as his hand works faster. I can hear how wet I am against his hand but I don’t care, I’m just spinning out, gasping and clenching and tightening on his tongue.

Dirty and depraved, I think to myself, but I don’t care. If Rory wants it, I want it.

My pulse roars in my ears as my release subsides and I sink forward onto the bed, but Rory climbs on top of me, straining erection pressing into my lower back as he kisses my shoulder.

“How’re you doing, Hartley?”

“Good,” I moan through the aftershocks, and he chuckles.

“Are you tapped out for tonight?”

I lift up on my elbows with a start and shake my head. “No.” His face is flushed and his eyes are bright. Hair messy and fucked up, just the way I love. “We’re not done.”

His mouth crooks, throat working like he’s holding on to his control. “Good.”

Rory reaches into his nightstand, rips open the box of condoms, and rolls one on.

“Turn over,” he says quietly, and I roll onto my back.

He settles between my knees, cock pressing against my clit, and my breath catches. Rory’s mouth is on my neck, on my shoulder, pressing soft, nipping kisses, and I sink my hand into his hair.

“Don’t be gentle,” I whisper, dragging myself against his length. “Take what you want, Rory. I like it.”

He groans like it’s exactly what he wanted to hear, and then he’s there at my entrance, nudging into me. With ticking jaw and heavy, labored breaths, he pushes into me, watching my expression. I can feel the second release starting as my body stretches for him. He’s too big for me, but the burn is incredible, sending sparks up and down my spine at how full and tight it feels. When his hips press into mine and he’s inside to the hilt, my eyes roll back.

“Rory,” I moan, gazing up at him.

I could come from his expression alone. Tense jaw like he’s barely holding on, eyelids drooping with a clouded, unfocused gaze. Seeing his desire all over his face like this adds to the pressure building inside me again.

“You are so fucking tight,” he rasps. “I knew I wouldn’t fucking last.”

He pulls out and thrusts back in, and we both moan. I’m going to be sore tomorrow but I don’t care, I need more. My hands are everywhere on Rory—in his hair, on his arms, raking up his back.

“Can I—” He thrusts back in, faster and rougher this time, and a ragged noise rumbles in his chest.

“Can you what?” I’m breathless as he fucks me, pinning me down, using me to come. “What is it?”

His hand comes to the base of my throat and he meets my gaze with a question in his eyes. “Like this?”

He’s not squeezing, not hurting me, just resting his hand there, keeping me under him. I nod hard. There’s something about Rory wanting to pin me down and fuck me that sends me into outer space. “Yes. Like that.”

“Good.”

His hips move faster, replaceing a punishing rhythm, and my body begins to tighten again.