We learn in school that self-analyzing is not a good idea. It’s hard to see yourself objectively and you don’t usually have the ability to review the motives behind your own behavior. I have a mentor, Doctor Madeline Fleury, who I check in with every week about work and my personal life, but not this week because of Christmas. All psych interns do this, to review cases but also to make sure our own mental health is on track. Madeline, as she insists I call her, has been really great helping me navigate my breakup with Beckett. I don’t know what she’d say about what I’m about to do. Is it reckless? Is it a bad idea? Is it the start of something? Is it foolish? All of the above? All I know is I’ve had a really rough year and I just want to have sex with a hot boy. So that’s what I’m going to do.
Fooling around with a hot, nice man built like he was meant for sex is a gift. I won’t turn it down. Conner pulls back again, and the heated look in his eyes cools a little. “Mac, princess, tell me you want it, loud and clear. If you meant a word of that you said to Ten—”
I wrap my arms around his thick neck and pull his lips back to mine. I want to be wild and free, even if the potential consequences scare the shit out of me. "I want you to give me the fuck of my life. You promised, now deliver.”
Conner grins, wild and bold as he rolls off the bed, and stands beside it, reaching for the front of his joggers. Reality slaps me in the face. I’m in way over my head. Conner probably has more sexual conquests than hockey trophies. And he has a lot of hockey trophies. I’m not exactly a naive virgin but I haven’t had a real one-night stand. Beckett was supposed to be my college fling and we ended up with each other for years. So will I be able to impress Mr. Sexy Skates here?
“Mac… you look like you’re changing your mind…” he whispers, leaning forward and pressing his mouth to the sensitive curve of skin above my clavicle. “You can. I get it.”
“No. I just…” I let out a sheepish giggle. “I mean, has anyone ever turned you down?”
“Honestly? No. But there’s a first time for everything,” Conner replies. “And it’s okay. My ego can take another hit.”
“My only thought right now is should I take off my pants or should you,” I reply boldly, and he grins down at me.
"I'll take off mine while you take off yours," he suggests. "Teamwork makes the dream work."
I giggle at him as I reach for the waistband on my scrubs. He drops his joggers in one quick motion and if he was wearing underwear, it went down to his ankles with them. I can’t help but stare at his erection because, I mean, it’s right there. And last time I saw it, I was too panicked and embarrassed to take a good look. Now… well damn, how can I not?
“This is not an even playing field,” he murmurs and palms his cock. “I’m naked and you’ve still got on your sports bra and underwear.”
“Then maybe you should do something about that,” I tell him.
He's back on the bed before I can blink. His hands slip under my bra, and the rough patches on the pads of his fingers from his hockey gloves send a deep quiver down my spine as they graze my nipples before he pushes the whole bra up and off my body. I exhale a moan and he kisses it away before moving his mouth to my breasts. He sucks and licks and nips at my right and then my left until the pulse between my legs pounds like a snare drum in a marching band.
I’ve heard that a woman can come from breast play but I never believed it until now. But I don’t want to come this way, I want to come with him, not without him, so I reach for those panties he forgot to take off. I push at them as best I can, with an urgency I can’t be bothered to hide. Without taking his lips off my skin, he helps, and the next thing I know he’s using his feet to push my underwear down my legs and off my ankles.
“Oh god. Oh fuck. Please stop!” I pant and wiggle. He nips my left nipple one last, quick time and immediately sits up in the space between my legs.
He puts his hands up like I’m holding a gun, but his smile is anything but fearful or worried. “Sorry. Were you going to come?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
He puts his arms down and shrugs. “It’s been known to happen.”
“You talented bastard,” I hiss back, like I’m offended by his arrogance when in fact I’m even more turned on by it. Because it’s not arrogance, it’s confidence.
"If you'd like to come another way, I'm happy to oblige," he offers, his eyes slipping down my naked body. He's looking right at me, the bare space between my legs, and I am flushing from head to toe now.
Conner may be fine being naked, in broad daylight, on full display, and letting me drink him in like he's a free margarita at an all-inclusive resort. But I'm a little less comfortable and confident with him doing it to me. And he's definitely doing just that. Those hazel eyes linger and stare.
“Mac?” he prompts, but now he’s palming his erection again and I’m transfixed. “Tongue? Fingers? Cock? You got a toy you want me to pleasure you with? Whatever you want, I’m game.”
How does one respond to a perfect man offering any and all sexual favors? I can’t seem to find the right words, so instead I lean forward, grip his neck, and when our lips connect again I push my tongue into his mouth. The way he responds gives me a jolt of much-needed confidence. It’s not that I’m shy or even unsure. I don’t have sexual hang-ups. But I just can’t shake the feeling that we’re playing with fire. Not that it’s going to stop me. I’m perfectly willing… eager even, to get burned.
Conner isn’t a patient man, apparently, because while I’m gaining confidence from the kiss, he moves his hand between my legs and dips two fingers into me, sliding right in thanks to the fact that I’m so turned on. I can feel his response—a smile—against my lips.
He gives a husky command as his fingers move and my knees quiver. “Touch me too.”
I let a hand slip from his shoulder and find his cock. It’s warm, thick, and hard. I give it a firm, slow tug. His breath rushes from him in a heavy, happy exhale. I want to smile at bringing him pleasure, but his thumb is doing the perfect dance over my clit and I’m once again on the brink. “I think I want you to do more.”
“You think?” Conner repeats, and I rub his cock, which earns me a deep, satisfied grumble. “I need you to know.”
“Oh fuck…” I pant and push my hips forward. His fingers move in the perfect rhythm just like his thumb. “I know. I know I want more.”
“Spell it out for me Mac. In glorious, graphic detail.”
He’s still. Everything has stilled. My eyes flutter open and I tip my head back just a little so his handsome face is in focus. “I want you to fuck me, Conner. As hard and as long as you can.”
With his free hand he gently grabs my chin, tilts my head, and claims my mouth again. There's a new energy in his kiss. It's almost feral and it confirms he wants me as badly as I want him. Again, this is all unfathomable, really. I mean hell, we haven't seen each other in years, and I never ever thought this was how I would be spending the early hours of …
“Please for the love of God tell me you have condoms.”
Condoms? Right. Of course. We need those. And… I don’t have them.
“Ah… nope.” I sigh and just like that, the mood pops like a balloon hitting a pin cushion. I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to look at him because what grown single woman, let alone a medical professional who knows all the risks, doesn’t have condoms? “I swore off sex when Beckett and I broke up, and men as a whole, so I just didn’t think I would ever need to have any in the house.”
His shoulders sag. Then his hand is gone, leaving me feeling exposed and a tinge embarrassed. I open my eyes. He looks like his goldfish just died. “You’ve got to have some, right? I mean, you’re a single, professional hockey player. You probably keep the condom industry alive. You… are single, right?”
Oh shit, I never even asked if he had a girlfriend. My bad. I mean I’m not an idiot. I know some of these professional athletes play fast and loose with the definition of ‘committed relationship’ and it isn’t always the ones you’d think. But Conner gets this cute little line between his eyebrows as I wait for confirmation. “I wouldn’t be trying to fuck you if I wasn’t single, Mac. I was raised right. Also, I was coming home to admit defeat to my family and suffer through the holidays as a failure. I didn’t think a condom was required for that. I didn’t plan ahead and I just assumed you’d have them.”
I’m suddenly filled with defiance. Like level ten ‘We’re not gonna take it’ mode. I blink and bite my lip as I try to talk myself out of it, but then I look down. He’s still as hard as a rock. “You know for a guy who has it all, looks, sex appeal, talent, charm, intelligence, you sure as hell give up easily. You need more fight in you, Con. For your career and this.