Secret Obsession: A Dark Hockey Romance (Hockey Gods)
Secret Obsession: Chapter 30

Hours later, Miles and I lie in bed in what I’ve come to think of as our ‘usual’ positions. He’s wrapped around me. His scent, his weight. It’s all-encompassing. We haven’t been talking, or moving, or sleeping. Each of us is lost in our own world.

I’ve stopped shivering. The sensation returned to my limbs, my fingers and toes, after a while in the shower. Miles then picked us up out of it, stripping off the rest of his clothes, and wrapped me in two towels. He caught my hair up in another one, keeping it off my neck and preventing the water from dripping down my back.

Once out, he cranked the water to its full heat, and we were encased in steam in no time. The mirror fogged over, and it was almost hard to see straight through to the other wall.

But the one constant was him.

Did he leave me in the freezer?

Yeah. Technically.

Do I blame him?

Strangely… no.

As traumatic as it was, I was also mostly out of my mind. And I can’t replace it in me to hate him for it.

So I’ve come to the conclusion that I do want to live. And what I’ve been doing for the past few weeks hasn’t even come close to how I want my life to go. I’ve been numb. As numb as my limbs in that stupid freezer.

In a way, this is like a rebirth.

A second chance.

It’s why I roll toward Miles and reach up, running my fingers down his scruff. He hasn’t shaved in a few days, and I don’t know if I love or hate it. Maybe a little bit of both.

His eyes open, and he watches me with a guarded look.

I move my hand up, into his hair. It’s mostly dry now, the curls falling over his forehead. I push them back, running my nails along his scalp.

He apologized to me.

And I feel an apology of my own welling up inside me, ready to burst free.

But instead, different words come out.

“I can’t fall in love with you,” I whisper.

He catches my wrist and turns his head, pressing his lips to my palm. When he releases me, I retract it. I keep my kissed palm safe against my chest, like he’s going to try something else.

“I won’t,” I clarify. “Because—”

“You will,” he replies. “You don’t have a choice. There’s never been a choice with us, wild girl. You’ll fall in love with me, and it’s going to be a hundred times better than any love you held for Knox. Because I deserve you and you deserve me.” His gaze intensifies. “And when you do realize that you’re madly in love with me, you’re going to know in your bones that I won’t leave you. I haven’t left you, and I won’t ever. It’s you and me until the end of time.”

My heart skips, then picks up a beat that is quickly careening out of control.

He’s hurt me.

He almost killed me.

And he’s killed for me.

“Miles—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Don’t say anything right now. Just sleep, and we’ll start again in the morning.”

Okay.

I roll away. His arm is there, hooking around me.

The strangest thing happens.

He doesn’t force himself into me, like every night prior. I should be happy about that, right? He almost killed me, and now he’s not making me have sex with him.

It was never just sex, Willow.

I lie there with my eyes closed, trying to even out my breathing. His groin isn’t even near my ass. Our only point of contact is his arm and the top of his chest.

The loss gives me a hollow feeling behind my ribs, but I don’t know how to articulate it or force my mind away from it.

I shift my legs together and roll onto my stomach. I grip my pillow, fluffing it. His hand is on my back now, his fingers lightly moving across my spine. It tickles. Desire winds through me, straight to my core.

It’s confusing.

Am I still drunk?

Has he hypnotized me into enjoying what he does to me?

I whimper. It just happens.

His hand slides higher, digging into the muscles on either side of my spine. A one-handed back massage, loosening the tension that’s coiled there. It’s not enough.

God.

I hate that I crave it.

I loathe myself for even giving in and letting another Whiteshaw ensnare me like this.

My eyes burn, and I whimper again.

“If you need something, take it,” his voice floats out of the dark. Seductive, daring.

Fucking enchanting.

I hold out for another few minutes, at least. Shifting and trying to pretend that he’s not driving me crazy just by being beside me and not in me.

Fuck him. Fuck this.

But also… fuck every notion that I can’t take what I need. Not when he’s offering it to me so plainly. And that thought snaps my self-control. I roll toward him, my gaze feasting on his face. His eyes are open, and he’s watching me.

He watches me even as I shove the covers down, exposing both of our naked bodies. Naked except for the briefs he pulled on…

My brows furrow, and I shift to my knees. Hovering over him. I push him on his back and drag the briefs down. His cock is hardening, straightening up to give me its full attention. I get his briefs all the way off and throw them off the side of the bed.

He doesn’t move when I swing my leg over him, straddling him and hovering above his erection. I touch myself, and my back arches. I lose that eye contact for a second.

Miles grips the side of my face suddenly. He sits up, bringing us that much closer together, and his lips hover over mine.

I’ve never kissed him before.

Even… before-before. We never kissed. Not once.

Not when he said we’d end up together, or when we flirted mercilessly for a year, or when we danced at house parties and bars and, more recently, at the nightclubs when he intercepted me. Or after hockey games. Or—

“Take what you need,” Miles repeats, and I swear his breath leaves his lips and travels right into me.

I lean forward and kiss him.

Simple as that.

Well, it would be. And it is, for a second. Our lips touch, holding perfectly still, before he seems to register that what I need is him.

It’s not love.

It’s suffering and healing and everything that goes along with it.

His hand fists in the back of my hair, angling my head to the side. He takes over the kiss like he takes over everything. With reckless abandon and total control. I am melting putty in his grip, relaxing into his arm that winds behind my back and keeps me pressed to him. The way he tugs my hair sends little zips of pleasure straight down to my toes.

When his tongue sweeps the seam of my lips, slanting them open and invading my mouth, I moan. My hands replace his shoulders, sliding up his neck and over his jaw. I dig my fingers into his hair, gripping it as tightly as he holds mine.

My hips rock slightly. His length rubs my pussy, causing delicious friction to radiate through me. I need more. And I’m starving for it.

His piercing hits my clit with every forward rock. While his tongue tastes me, I take my pleasure from the little metal rod on the underside of his shaft. His cock keeps twitching, and I keep moving. Grinding against him shamelessly until an orgasm crashes over me.

I tear my mouth away, my muscles trembling and legs weak.

“Oh, wild girl,” Miles whispers in my ear.

His lips trail down my throat, kissing and sucking. His teeth scrape my skin, pinching and pulling before easing up. I’m helpless. I want more. And he knows it, because he releases my hair and moves his hand between us, adjusting his cock. Lining it up when I lift slightly.

It notches at my entrance, the other piercing leaving an echo of sparks in its wake.

I lower onto it. He’s reached the crook of my shoulder and neck, and he gives me a rasping groan when my thighs finally meet his hips.

All the way in.

And fuck if it doesn’t feel different. Better.

His hand is still between my legs, and he runs his fingers from where we’re joined up to my clit. “You’re dripping wet for me. Fuck, you feel so good like this.”

He flexes his hips, and my lips part.

His mouth connects with mine again. Just for a moment. Then he’s staring into my eyes and he orders, “Ride me.”

I do.

I brace my hands on his shoulders and move up and down, relishing the feel. The way he stretches me and how his piercings rub just the right places. His fingers drift across my clit, stroking me softly, while he bends me backward and leans down. He kisses my collarbone, then lower. Straight down my sternum between my breasts.

“Miles.”

“You’ve been driving me nuts, clenching me in your sleep,” he murmurs.

He bites my breast, just above my nipple.

I yelp and jerk, but he’s got me too wrapped up in him to go very far. He licks and soothes the skin, then down to my nipple. When he sucks it into his mouth, I see fireworks.

I cry out again. He releases my nipple and grips my hips with both hands. He takes over the pace, propelling me up and down. My gaze replaces his again.

“Touch yourself, Willow.”

My fingers move on their own, coasting down my stomach, making his eyes track my hand over my abdomen and finally resting on the sensitive bud. My breasts sway with every thrust, and my eyes want to roll back.

It just feels too good.

After a week of nothing but tension, I’m ready.

“Fuck,” he grunts, lifting me off him.

My back hits the mattress, legs in the air, and my breath leaves me in a sharp exhale.

He’s on me in a second—but it isn’t his cock that’s sliding back into me. It’s his fingers, two of them pumping and stroking, while he kisses down my body. He bats my hand away.

“Miles—”

His lips close over my clit.

I let out a hiss. He sucks and bites and licks until I’m shuddering against him, clenching at his fingers.

“Two,” he says, barely raising his head. “I want another.”

“Another… what?” I push up on my elbows.

He’s already dipping back down, running his nose along my center. Inhaling. Smelling me. And his eyes roll back like it’s the best fucking thing he’s smelled, while I try not to cringe. His free hand moves up my side, palming my breast. He pinches my nipple and tweaks it between his fingers, while his mouth works magic on my cunt.

Oh God.

I don’t know if I say that out loud.

I think I might, but fuck it.

I say it again, louder.

He thrusts his tongue inside me, his fingers taking over rubbing my clit. He tongue-fucks me over the edge, and I almost black out from the force of it. I sag back on the pillow.

“Holy shit.”

And then I’m being flipped. I let out an oof as I hit the mattress face-first and suck in a quick breath. But then he’s dragging my hips back, my knees bending, and he slides back into me.

“Oh, fuck.” I bury my head in the pillow, extending my arms forward to brace myself against the headboard.

He pounds into me with an unmatched fervor. My whole body moves with the force of it, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. I push my hips back, meeting every fucking thrust. His hands on my hips are squeezing hard enough to bruise.

The insane part of me hopes he marks me in more ways than one.

“Harder,” I grind out.

He replies by slapping my ass. The pain just sends another flood of wetness between my thighs, and his dark chuckle hits me. And then his palm, striking me again.

Holy fucking fire.

“What do you want, wild girl?” he calls.

His fingers are massaging my ass, even as he fucks me hard enough to bruise my cunt. And he’s hitting some deep, dark spot inside me. A spot I should be ashamed about.

Not physical.

Mental.

“What do you need?” he rephrases.

“You,” I choke out. “Directions.”

“Orders,” he corrects.

I’m silent. I taste the word on my lips. Feel it take shape in my body.

He pulls out and picks me up. I’m on my feet, back to his chest, before my mind registers the shift. His wet cock is caught between us, rubbing my ass cheek that already burns from his earlier ministrations.

His hand wraps around my throat, guiding my head back. His fingers tip my face to the side, where his lips are waiting.

I kiss him because I can. Because I’m afraid of what might come out of my mouth if I don’t. So I kiss him and let his tongue stroke me, and then my tongue is in his mouth. Tasting the mint flavor of his toothpaste and his saliva. Running along the ridges of his molars.

His cock presses to my asshole, and I don’t object when he pushes in an inch. I stay where I am, exactly as he has me. Caught up in his arms with nothing to brace myself except him. And he slowly penetrates my asshole, stretching and inching in, until we’re connected. Ass to groin.

It hurts, and it’s full, and my mind is a fractured mess. It’s been a mess for a while, but this is different. I stare at the window, at the blinds that are open a sliver, then the dresser that holds his clothes and mine. The rows of books stacked across the top, a mix from both of our classes.

He shifts, thrusting a little, and the pain has my eyes opening wide. I dig my nails into his arm. His hand is still around my throat, rubbing softly just under my jaw.

“I want to fill your ass with a toy,” he says in my ear. “I want to watch you fight an orgasm in the most inappropriate fucking places. And I want to edge you until you lose control and beg me to fuck you.”

My heart flutters.

“But right now, I’m going to do the honors myself. I’m going to fill your ass with my cum. And it’s going to hurt. But the best things in life all hurt a little, don’t they?” He growls. And then he’s shifting us to the floor.

My knees hit, then my chest. He lowers my head, and his hand slips from my chest. He leans up, adjusting himself, and something warm hits my ass.

Spit.

He’s spit on me again.

Only this time, it adds some slipperiness to his cock. And he spits again before he thrusts back in. New pleasure surges through me. I dig my fingers into his carpet. Bits of pain in my nails force me to loosen my grip, but it doesn’t matter.

Miles stretches out over me, and his hand lands on top of mine. His fingers lace with mine, curling around and pressing to my palm. His other hand is right next to my head.

“Ready?”

Three orgasms in, and my mind is mush in a whole new way. Talking is off the table.

I make some noise of assent.

And then he begins.