Page 16 of Date With Skates

Connor is a big guy. Not as big as his counterpart, Roman Callahan, but he’s exactly what you think of when you think of a defenseman.

He’s a head taller than me, with broad shoulders, a lean waist, and thick thighs. Typical sexy athlete.

There’s something about having such a sizable man under my thumb that is irresistible.

“I’m a sucker for hockey players,” I tell him.

“Guess I’m in luck,” he rasps out.

I slide my hand all the way to his throat before dragging my nails back down. A mix of a hiss and a groan leaves his lips as I do. I dip my fingers into the waistband of his pants and tug him toward me. I feel him hard against my stomach and look up at him, catching his gaze. Watching. Waiting. He does nothing, though. Because he’s waiting for me.

I lift up on my toes to grasp the back of his neck and pull him down. I expect him to go right in for the kiss, but our lips hover an inch apart, his breath warm against my mouth. I can’t help but smile at the control he has. It’s so sexy.

“Kiss me, Hockey Boy,” I say.

I don’t think the words fully come out of my mouth before his tongue is in my mouth. He kisses me with long, firm strokes of his tongue, nipping at my lip when he gets the chance. His arm comes around me, pulling me against him as I grasp ‌his shirt.

He’s still holding back, but his self-control is such a turn on. I’m so glad I jerked off in the shower this morning; otherwise, I’m not sure how long I’d last.

His mouth moves along my jaw. He finds my neck, kissing and licking as my hands dig into his chest.

“Take me to your r—”

He lifts me up like I weigh nothing, mouth still on my neck as he walks into a bedroom and kicks the door closed. Connor lays me down on the bed, his large body coming over me.

“What now?” he asks, moving to the other side of my neck and using his teeth to nip at my skin and my ear.

“Take off your shirt.”

He sits back on his knees, grabbing the bottom of his shirt with both hands and pulling it off over his head. I watch the way his muscles stretch in that way they do when a man pulls his shirt off.

He said he’s lucky, but I think I’m the lucky one. This is literally a dream come true.

Sleeping with a hockey player.

But not just any hockey player. A professional one, who made it to the Olympics. It’s always been a fantasy of mine, sleeping with a rugged and rough man. A man just like Connor who fits the physical stuff and has a smart mouth.

“Now?” he asks.

I tap my lips. “Kiss me.” He leans down, and I add, “Slowly.”

His nose brushes mine before his lips press against mine. We open at the same time, our tongues seeking the other. He kisses me slowly, passionately, his hand finding the back of my head to hold me in place.

I run my hands over his back, his sides, his stomach, touching every muscle that I can. He’s so sexy, and I know he knows it. The problem is that he doesn’t act like it.

He said I’m trouble, but he’s going to be a problem.

Connor is panting when he pulls away, his dark eyes boring into mine.

“What now?” he asks, hovering over me. His voice is like gravel.

I run a finger down the center of his chest.

“Show me how big your cock is.”

Excitement flashes in his eyes, and he sits back on his knees again, slowly slipping his thumbs into his waistband and tugging them down.

I have no shame as I watch him do it, licking my lips when I see the base of his cock nestled in thick, dark hair.