Alex (Cold Fury Hockey 1)

Uncoiling one of my arms from around his neck, I touch his cheek with my fingertips. “Yes, there will be a later. A lot of laters, I hope. ”

He rewards me with a smile that is relieved and grateful, but then is immediately replaced with carnal determination. “Then hang on. ”

I loop my arm back around Alex’s neck, using the leverage to pull myself up just as he draws backward. I come down just as he pushes back into me, creating delicious friction between our bodies.

Alex pulls back with a sigh and surges forward with a grunt—over and over again. My own breath is forced from my chest every time he pounds into my body, causing my pulse to speed up. He’s hitting me so very deep and I feel light-headed from the fog of passion permeating the air. The sounds of our hard f**king are sinfully dirty, only adding to the excitement and fueling us on to go harder…faster…deeper.

The door is rattling, our skin is slapping. Alex is groaning from deep within his chest, and he’s slamming into me so forcefully at times, I’m starting to make little mewling noises because it feels so good. A droplet of sweat rolls off of Alex’s temple and drops down to my upper chest, which is still gracefully covered by my robe. It scorches me, and my legs squeeze tighter around him as he tunnels into me deeper and deeper.

Like an avalanche rumbling down an unsuspecting mountain, my orgasm starts right at that spot that his c**k is hitting inside of me, then bursts outward in a cataclysmic explosion that catches me off guard. I have no choice. I cannot stop myself from screaming Alex’s name because t

his is the most intense pleasure I have ever experienced in my life.

Whether Alex was just ready or he was excited by me calling out his name, he slams into me one more time, hitting me at the deepest point imaginable, and buries his face into the crook of my neck.

“I’m coming,” he groans, and then he pulls back and slams forward again with a grunt. “Fu-u-u-ck. ”

I can feel him flex his h*ps inward as he orgasms, a shudder of ecstasy cascading through his body. He pumps in and out of me a few more times, the friction causing microbursts of pleasure to course through me.

When he finally goes still, I become overwhelmed with emotion.

This was utterly perfect.

The most uniquely thrilling moment of my life.

I have never felt so good and I wonder if this will ever be replicated.

Alex gave me exactly what I asked for. Exactly what I needed. And without an ounce of shame, I realize I want more from him.

Tightening his grip under my butt, Alex nuzzles against my neck and I can feel him pulse inside of me again. “Are you okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” I reply as I sift my fingers through his hair and arch my back. “That was amazing. ”

Pulling his face back, he looks down at me, still keeping me pinned to the door. His eyes are curious and warm. “Was that what you needed?”

“Mmm-hmm. ”

Leaning in to kiss me softly, he asks, “Can you say anything other than ‘Mmm-hmm’?”

“I’m hungry,” I murmur against his lips.

“Chinese?”

“Mmm-hmm. ”

When Alex pulls out of me and sets me down, I keenly feel the loss of his warmth inside of me, and it makes me sad. My legs feel like jelly, so I just lean back against the door as I watch him pull the condom off and knot the end.

“Bathroom’s first door on the left,” I tell him, pointing down the hall as I watch him pull up his jeans with his free hand. “I’ll order the food. ”

He gives me a soft smile and nods. Just before he starts down the hallway, he turns to me. “Then you can tell me about your day?”

“Sure,” I say softly.

Although not that long ago I wanted nothing but to purge the memories of today into a black hole of forgetfulness, I have an overwhelming desire to share my misery with Alex. I feel a need—almost painful in nature—to seek comfort from him. Something more than just hard and sweaty sex.

I need to hear his voice, and maybe have his arms wrapped around me, while I tell him all about Mara and how useless I feel right now.

***

Long after Alex f**ked me up against my front door, and long after we stuffed ourselves with cold sesame noodles and fried rice while sitting on my living room rug, eating our meal from my coffee table, and only after Alex pushed me down to said living room floor and took me in a frenzy again, do I finally tell him about what happened with Mara.

He pulls me up from the floor and into his arms, walking me back to my bedroom, where we crawl into my bed and pull the covers up snugly around us. He holds me while I share with him the details of Mara’s overdose.

Alex doesn’t say a word while I talk but just strokes my back with his fingers and every so often grazes his lips against my temple. When I admit with no small amount of shame that I’m terrified I’m going to lose Mara, and that I am doubting my own abilities as a counselor, Alex takes his fingers and places them against my lips to silence my words.

“Don’t,” he says quietly. “Don’t doubt yourself…not for a minute. ”

Turning my head to the side to dislodge his fingers from my mouth, I argue, “But I don’t think I can reach her. You should have seen her in the hospital. She wouldn’t even look at me. Wouldn’t talk to me. ”

“Some people don’t want to be reached. Some people love the misery. ”

“No,” I deny adamantly. “She doesn’t love misery. She hates what the drugs have done to her parents. ”