Page 168 of Slap Shot
I laugh and stretch out my legs. “And with you, hockey guy.”
“Your outfit is cute tonight.” He touches the hem of the black skirt I paired with boots. “I like how long your legs are.”
“Not as long as yours.” I line our limbs up side by side, scoffing at how much taller he is than me. “But close.”
“I think I have a problem.”
“Problem? Oh, no. Do you have to pee?”
“No.” His fingers move up my thigh, and I sigh. They brush against my underwear, and I arch my back. “When I’m around you, all I want to do is touch you. Taste you. Feel you. I told you I’m addicted.”
“You don’t usually act like this when you’re… dating someone?”
The word falls out of me, but that’s what we’re doing. It’s wrong to call it anything less.
“I know how to behave myself with other people.” His other hand moves the hair away from my neck so he can kiss me again. “I’ve also also never brought anyone to team dinner. And here you are.”
“And here I am,” I repeat. The small space emboldens me. The warmth from his body is a heady, dangerous heat, and I act on instinct. I take the hand on my leg in mine. I move it up around my skirt until he reaches my underwear, intentions clear. “Yours.”
I’ve never been this reckless or drunk on infatuation. But that’s the thing about Hudson Hayes: he makes me feel alive in ways I’ve never been.
“Are you sure?” he whispers, and my heart cinches tight—of course it does—with his hesitation. With him giving me the power. “I want you so bad, Madeline, but I don’t want you to think I pulled you into a closet to feel you up.”
“Do you want to feel me up?”
He blows out a breath and kisses my neck again. He bunches my skirt at my waist and pushes my knee to the side. Slowly, so fuckingslowly, he moves his fingers up my thigh.
“I think I might die if I don’t.”
I gasp when he pulls my underwear to the side. “That would be a horrible tragedy.”
“If someone walks in, they won’t be able to see us. The shelf blocks their view,” he assures me, but I wouldn’t care if they could.
Everything he does is torturous. The way he sucks on my throat and how he strokes back up my leg. He nearly rips my underwear, groaning when he adds two fingers in me and finds me wet.
“When I’m with you, I can’t think straight.” I wiggle my hips, and I feel him hard against my ass. Knowing I have that kind of physical effect on someone—someone likehim—is invigorating. “You really do make me see the stars, Hudson.”
“Let’s get you to see a couple more, yeah?” He curls his fingers inside me, sighing like he’s mesmerized. “Fuck. Your pussy, Madeline. Everything about you, really. Incredible.”
His thumb presses on my clit, and I cry out. I don’t know what I’m saying, only that it “feels so good”. To “not stop”, and “I can take a third finger.”
“Please,” I beg, long past caring how I sound. “Hudson.”
“You have to be quiet, Maddie.” He moves the hand not between my legs up to my neck, covering my mouth. “I don’t want my teammates to hear you. They don’t get that privilege.”
That makes me groan against his palm, makes me open my legs wider. This is exactly how I want to go: blissed out, full, wet, and so close to satisfied.
Hudson does add his third finger with the softest of laughs, the gentlest of “there you go” and“you’re doing so well,” and I’m glad I can’t make any sounds. The noise that leaves my body is out of this world. This is the most sensual, hottest experience I’ve ever had with a man, and I never want it to end.
“I could watch you all day.” He kisses my forehead, my cheek. Along the curve of my jaw. “But I’d really like to see you come. Please?”
I never believed the women in romance novels who could come on command, but with Hudson, I’m converted.
One ask from him, and I’m lifting my hips. Letting him touch me—letting himfuck mewith his fingers—and I can’t hold it in anymore.
I squeeze my eyes closed and give in to the pleasure rolling through me. I grind against his hand. I push my ass against his hard cock, wanting him to enjoy this as much as I am. And when Hudson kisses my throat and says, “you’re so good, Maddie,you deserve this,” I lose it completely.
Colors explode behind my vision. I bite the heel of his palm. I squirm and ride the wave of gratification until I’m numb and exhausted, made of nothing but limp limbs and an empty mind.
