Blocker (Seattle Sharks 5)
Page 29
Grabbing on to his glorious ass, I wasted no time in taking him into my mouth.
“Shit,” he hissed and arched his head back against the wall, his fingers tangled in my hair.
His taste filled my mouth as I flicked my tongue over his silky tip.
Warmth and lightning soared through my blood.
Hunger churned in my core and an ache wrenched between my thighs as I devoured him. His groans and sighs wound me up so much I was a taut string ready to snap.
“Pepper,” Eric growled, and I gently grazed the edge of my teeth along his hard length, glancing up and up at him, a slight smirk with him still in my mouth.
That unleashed something inside him because one second I was there, on my knees, consuming him, and the next he’d hooked his arms under my shoulders and hauled me to my feet.
Fire churned in those green eyes as he rid me of my pants and scrap of lace.
Pure strength radiated from every inch of him as he spun me, gently pressing my spine against the wall which was still warm from his skin.
Slowly, agonizingly, he palmed my breasts, laying soft kisses over the mounds until they were heavy and tight. He took a pert nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over and back until I arched against him.
One hand trailed lower, smoothing lazy circles down my stomach, to the apex of my thighs. Slow, like we had all the time in the world. Like I wasn’t on fire for him.
Eric kissed his way up to my neck, the line of my jaw, and finally my lips, all while those damn fingers teased every spot near the area where I needed him. Soft, easy strokes that may as well have been match strikes with each pass.
I arched and moved and widened, begging him with my body to touch me.
He grinned against my lips, his tongue sliding out to tease mine at the same moment he slid a finger straight down the center of me.
Slick. Easy. Slow.
I was liquid for the man, and he growled from how ready I was for him.
His muscles flexed as he took his time, stroking me, teasing me, slipping one finger in and out only to tease me more.
“Eric,” I said, sighing as I bit his sculpted chest.
He shifted, kneeling slightly so we could be eye to eye, and then he mercifully slipped a finger inside me. Then two. I arched against his hand, moving on him.
“Yes,” I moaned as he pumped in time with my movements.
His lips covered mine like he could devour the sounds he plucked from me.
Heat coiled, tightening and clenching until my entire body felt like a livewire.
“Fuck, Pepper,” he said, lightly nipping at my bottom lip. “I can feel you there.”
I sucked his tongue into my mouth, unable to speak, to comprehend anything beyond the sensations swarming my body. I whimpered when he slid his fingers out of me, leaving me a hot, pulsing mess on the brink of explosion.
But then he hooked his massive arms behind my knees and hefted me up. I locked my ankles around his hips, my fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders.
“Eric, fuck!” I couldn’t contain my scream as he plunged into me.
So thick, so deep.
His massive body pinned me to the wall, his bulging biceps holding me up without strain, and his beautiful cock stilling inside me, giving me time to adjust to the size of him.
It didn’t take long.
He pumped and kissed.
I bucked and moaned, tracing my hands over every inch of his chest as I lost control.
Eric filled me in every possible way.
Stole my breath like it was his.
Hit every single spot I possessed.
Those long, sweet strokes.
The fast and hard thrusts.
Each was a brand on my body, on my heart.
The tightness inside me twisted and ached.
My blood seared as he held me in that delicious agony. That perfect moment of torture before I’d fly into orbit.
And when those green eyes locked with mine and I saw a mirror of every facet of emotion I was feeling.
He owned me entirely.
I sank down on him as he thrust up, my back smacking into the wall, and I exploded. My body loosened so quickly I was dizzy, a thousand tiny sparks shocking my skin. And just when I thought I couldn’t take an ounce more pleasure, Eric found his own release inside me, and I came undone all over again. So hard and so long, I was draped over his shoulder by the end of it, panting, limp.
He carried me ever so gently to his bedroom, laying us down on his mattress, our bodies slick with sweat.
There were no words.
Nothing I could say that could possibly explain how much this man meant to me. How much that had just meant to me.
Eric was quiet too, content to run his fingers through my tangled hair, down my bare shoulder, over my hip, and back up again. Smooth, sweet strokes that somehow made the moment a thousand times more intimate.
Just like that, I was ready for him again.
The delicious soreness between my thighs ached for more.
And I realized as I lay there, staring into those green eyes, that I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my time on this earth doing just that.
“Pepper,” Dad said my name with all the authority of my father and my boss. “My office. Now.”
I cringed, following him through the empty locker room and into his office.
The time to let him stew and believe I was the one in the picture was over.
He’d avoided me like the plague since that first initial call, and then after, too, when he’d lost his shit on Crosby. Like Dad knew if we spoke too soon he’d say something he’d regret.
Still, from his tone, and that vein throbbing in his forehead, he wasn’t here to make peace.
“Dad—”
He smacked a stack of tabloids down on his desk, cutting me off.
One was the issue that featured “me” and Crosby, the other two featured shots of Connor, and then the last…Rory?
“You are smarter than this, Pepper Harris,” Dad chided, pointing to the one of “me”.
I sank into the chair before his desk, my stomach churning. Connor was free to see and be seen with whoever he wanted—well, as long as it wasn’t me or Ivy—but Rory? Last time I checked, he was happily married and almost disgustingly blissful.
Adrenaline shot through my veins. I knew Rory. He…he’d changed when he’d met Paige.
Or I’d thought.
Maybe there really aren’t any good players.
“What are you thinking?” Dad snapped me out of my sticky thoughts. “You’ve always stayed away from players. After Mason—” he raked his hands through his salt and pepper hair. “Is this a punishment? Some way to get back at me because I’m always working?” he sighed. “Because that isn’t fair, Peppe
r. I expected better from you.”
I ground my teeth.
This is why I’d asked Ivy to tell him.
Because I always got it worse.
Because he held me to a standard that was so much stricter than Ivy.
Because where she’d dreamed of being a reporter, wild and free, I’d been grounded. Always working toward ending up in the same career field as Dad.
“You have busted your ass to get here,” he continued, oblivious to my anger. “And still people question your position. I hate that for you. But this?” He smacked his palm against the picture. “This makes it look worse. Makes it look like you’re only here to fraternize—”
“It’s Ivy!” I snapped, unable to bite my tongue for a second longer. Guilt ate at my insides, knowing Ivy didn’t want him to know, but I couldn’t sit here and take this.
Despite the fact that I can still taste Eric.
A constant craving.
Aching.
Double damn. I’m such a hypocrite.
Dad jerked back like I’d slapped him. His eyes darted from me to the photo before he scooped up the tabloid and held it closer to his face.
I folded my arms across my chest.
“You never could tell us apart.” My words were quiet, cold, defeated.
“I—”
“I can’t believe you think I’d be so careless,” I cut him off, the accusation stinging all the way down. Eric and I were careful, sure, but honestly, I was no different than Ivy. Except I’d picked a winner.
Or, at least, he’d picked me.
That photo of Rory stared up at me. A blonde—not a redhead—had her arms flung around his neck.
Acid rolled my stomach.
Was there ever any getting away from the spotlight. From the constant line of women just waiting for the second the man would slip?
Dad set the tabloid down and sank into his chair, rubbing his forehead.
“I’m sorry, Pepper,” he said, finally looking me in the eye.