Page 141 of Slap Shot
It doesn’t matter.
I’ll give her anything she wants.
“I promise,” I say, and she blows out a breath. She closes her eyes and starts to sink herself on my cock, but I stop her. “Openyour eyes, Maddie. I want you to watch when you take me for the first time.”
FORTY-ONE
MADELINE
Hudson is never bossy,and his tone tells me I should listen. My gaze meets his before I glance down, and the tenderness behind his eyes almost takes my breath away.
“Better?” I ask.
“Perfect,” he says, and that makes me giddy. “If I hurt you, I want you to tell me. We’ll stop and readjust so this is good for you. I don’t care if it takes ten minutes or an hour.”
I’ve had sex—I have a kid for god’s sake—but I’ve never experienced intimacy like this.
It’s not just going to be fucking. We’re going to connect on a soul level, and that almost terrifies me to pieces.
“I want it to be good for you, too.”
“Maddie.” Hudson smiles. Brushes his thumbs along my ribs and drums his fingers against my skin. “This right here—being with you? Touching you? Breathing the same air as you?—is good enough for me. Everything else is a bonus.”
Goddamn him for being the most perfect man.
I brace my hand on the wall behind the bed. I sink down, the head of his cock pushing inside me.
I wince at the first feelings of uncomfortableness. I hiss at the sting of pain, and I shift my position so I can bury my face in his neck.
“It’s okay. Don’t rush. If it doesn’t start to feel good, we’ll try something else,” he says softly in my ear before pressing a kiss to my cheek.
Soon, the pain subsides. Pleasure builds at the base of my spine. I adjust to the new stretch, to the new sensation, and I take him another inch deeper.
“Fuck, Maddie. Does that?—”
“So good.” I sit upright, relaxing when I circle my hips. “Best I’ve ever had.”
He laughs. Reaches up and squeezes my breasts. “I’m not all the way in you yet. Don’t make a snap decision.”
“I don’t care. The award has already been handed out. I present to you the honor of being the best dick of my life.”
Hudson laughs again, and the sound is like coming home. A Sunday morning in bed and warm coffee when it’s cold outside. He drops his head against the pillows, exhaling when I grind against his length. “You’re going to give me a complex, sweetheart. I’m going to walk around like some egotistical bastard.”
“You’d be deserving of it.” I move my hands to his chest, leaning forward to find a new angle. “God. I’m already so full, Hudson.”
“I don’t know if I want to cover your mouth with my hand because what you’re saying is going to make me come faster than I want”—he plucks my nipple between his fingers and twists—“or if I want you to tell me everything you’re feeling.”
“You can cover my mouth. I’d like to try that.”
“Christ. Okay. We’ll add that in next time. But tonight, I want to hear you.”
Next time.
I hope there are hundred more times.
His hands drift back to my waist. Carefully, with the most exhaustive restraint I’ve ever seen, he guides me down his length. He helps me take the first half of his cock then three quarters, stopping before he fully buries himself inside me.
“More,” I whine, aching for him. I’m already breathing heavy, already so close, and we’ve barely started.
