Hat Trick (Blades Hockey Book 3) by Maria Luis

Author:Maria Luis [Luis, Maria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Alkmini Books, LLC
Published: 2018-02-05T16:00:00+00:00

19

Hunt

Gwen has no idea how much she’s playing with fire right now.

Without giving her warning, I set my pie on the seat next to me and then tug her legs over mine so that she’s curled up against me. The hem of her perfectly respectable dress rides up, exposing lush skin from her knees to just below her pussy.

And then I clamp my hands down on her thighs where I begin to knead her muscles.

I keep my eyes on the shitty movie the whole time, unwilling to give away how much she’s affecting me right now.

Because she is.

My cock is pounding at my zipper, demanding to put on a performance, and that’s a surprise all on its own because my head is pounding so loudly I’m surprised I’ve got enough blood to gravitate to two different hemispheres in my body.

“I think we skipped the awkward, do-you-hold-me stage,” Gwen squeaks. Her moan when I rub a particular knot in her leg proves that she doesn’t give a shit how many stages we skip.

She wants this.

I want this.

It’s only a matter of time before we give in.

“We’re playing the adult version.” I slip my hand up high on her leg, teasing her with the possibility of making contact with ground zero, before I trail back down to her knee. At her little growl of displeasure, I laugh. “Don’t tell me you don’t got any patience, Gwenny.” I press my head to the back of the seat and look her way. “What’s the fun if there’s not a little anticipation?”

If she wants to stab me with my fork, she’s going to have to crawl across my lap—and she won’t hear a complaint from me.

With a little huff, she turns back to the TV and pretends to ignore me.

I could never ignore her.

For the next twenty minutes, I set out to make Gwen pant.

Yes, pant. It’s all part of the fantasy—the one where she realizes I’m the one for her, the one where she’ll do anything just to have the chance to strip off my clothes and crash her mouth down onto mine.

After years of working for her, I still want her to come to me—in the best way possible.

I massage her calves, her legs. I trace the lines of her stiletto until she’s flexing her foot and turning it inward, giving me more space to play. When the movie turns particularly gory, I make a point of playing with Gwen’s hair and pressing small kisses along the length of her neck.

And with each minute that passes, her control falters and then cracks and then disappears completely.

She clutches my forearm as though she’s determined to get my hand where she wants it most—right between her legs. She rubs her legs alongside mine, until her dress is around her hips and I’ve got the most fantastic view of her white panties. She presses her hand to my lower abdomen and then flicks open the brass button of my jeans.

I like it when my Gwen is bold.

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