Caspian (Carolina Reapers 8)

And again.

And again.

Each thrust pressed me against that wall, my back bowed as I could do nothing but hold on as he claimed my body over and over again. The angle had him hitting a spot so deep inside me my knees shook. He kissed my neck before playfully biting the spot over my shoulder, his hand sliding around my hip. He rolled his fingers over my clit as he upped his pace inside me, and I swear I saw fucking stars.

“Caz!” I keened, my body clenching around him as my release built and coiled inside me.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough at my ear.

“Caz, fuck,” I said as he pistoned his hips, hardening inside me to another degree that had me gasping for breath. He pressed on my clit at the same time he bit down on my shoulder again, and my body completely unraveled around him.

Warmth flooded my body as his name left my lips again, his own release barreling me right into another one of my own. Everything inside me swirled and sparked as I came, shuddered around him as he slowed his pace, then dropped his head over my shoulder.

“You’re fucking prefect,” he whispered against my sensitive skin, and I breathed a laugh.

I had no words.

The man had literally left me speechless. Because not only did he deliver on his promise to unravel me in a way I never knew possible, he also had succeeded in completely and totally ruining me for anyone else.

I was hooked.

Totally, thoroughly hooked on a man who had no intention of hanging around.

But with the way my mind was spinning and my body was humming? I couldn’t find it in me to care. Later, I would worry and overthink.

For now?

I shifted once he’d gently slid out of me, turning to face him. “How much time do we have?” I asked on a whisper, still slightly breathless.

He glanced at his watch, then back to me. “An hour, why?”

I grinned, shrugging. “I think I need you to show me again.”

His eyes widened, but that quickly, his mouth was on mine again.

We made every minute count, leaving me with just ten to clean myself up as we heard guests start rolling in for the wedding.

11

Caspian

I’d never been the guy to chase down the whole suburban dream, but there was something to be said for watching my little sister say those vows in the same chapel our parents had all those decades before. It was like watching a generational love story play out, happy tears and all.

Guess I was all up in my feelings today, but I was good with it.

London was happy. She’d glowed with joy all through the ceremony, and the look Sterling had given her when she’d walked down that aisle had reassured me that he was the right one—the only one—for her. The guy had nearly lost it, and with good reason. My sister was radiant.

The ceremony had been quick, and I’d done my best to play the dedicated groomsmen beside my teammates, but my gaze had drifted over toward Ryleigh more than once while the preacher had given his sermon on love, dedication, and devotion.

My chest went tight at the sight of Ryleigh’s smile as she watched London and Sterling say their “I-do’s.” There was a wistfulness in her eyes that made me wish I was the kind of guy she really wanted. Not just the endless supplier of orgasms she’d joked about, but the whole white picket fence guy. I’d never be the home-by-five, small-town Iowa guy again—at least not while I was playing in the NHL.

She deserved every part of her dream, from the newly built house to the steady, dependable guy. It just came as a shock that there was a part of me that wanted to be…that guy—not Chuck, of course. That asshole was a grade A jerkwad who deserved nothing more than a life of pining for what he’d lost when he’d broken her heart. But maybe—

“Earth to Foster,” Maxim said, waving a beer in front of my face as he sat down next to me, filling Ryleigh’s seat at our table-for-ten.

She was currently talking to some of her friends from high school a few tables away, her auburn hair cascading down her back in a tangle of curls that made my palms itch with the need to feel the strands against my skin.

Watch it, or you’ll be a fucking addict, the logical part of my brain chimed in.

Already are, something in my chest responded.

That little thought should have sent warning bells off in my head, but it didn’t. There was only an ever-growing anxiety that I had tickets for the nine a.m. flight out of Des Moines in the morning.

“Caz,” Maxim said, louder this time, jarring me from my thoughts.

“Thanks,” I muttered, taking the frosty beverage he’d retrieved from the bar across the dance floor.