Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 85

KATY

Telling Braydon I’ll be his girlfriend unleashes something in him. The second I’m on top of him, my mouth locked to his, his hands are all over me.

“I thought about this all day,” he growls. His fingers slide down my pants, his palm cupping my center. He rubs slick circles on my clit, one strong arm locked across my front to hold me tight against his body.

In the mirror, I watch my head fall back, my lips parted. I arch against the grinding heat of his erection pressing into my ass as his hand strokes me higher and higher. My body is a live wire, thrumming and tightening for the edge.

He meets my eyes in the reflection and gives me a predatory smirk. I press down on the sound escaping my throat.

He’s wild, and he makes me wild. I can’t imagine the trajectory of my life without him now. Life would be so fucking dull. When I’m a hundred years old, the memories I’ll keep are being in love with Braydon Cooper.

“This is our first sex as a couple,” I manage to laugh out as he rips my jacket off my shoulders.

“Hurry up, then,” he rasps and my sweater is off the second he says that. His follows, and the floor by my bed is soon a messy heap of discarded clothes.

His hands are everywhere on me. His mouth is urgent, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck before returning to mine, coaxing my lips apart. He slips an arm around my waist, keeping me steady while he brutally yanks my leggings down, his gaze lingering on the cream lace set I’m wearing.

His eyes glaze over. He lets out a heavy breath before his fingers hook the bra cups down and he flicks his tongue over my n****e, fingers toying with the other. My pulse thrums, a tight beat between my legs, and I sigh as his mouth works, sinking my fingers into his thick hair and tugging lightly, pulling a deep groan from him.

It’s not just sex with him; it’s more than that.

His pants and boxers disappear. He pulls off my bra and underwear with a distracted focus that makes me smile. He’s so hard, his c**k jutting out aggressively. He tosses me his jersey.

“Put this on,” he demands, his voice a rough vibration, his eyes turning dark and a shiver runs through me.

I’m independent and self-sufficient, but I’m powerless against this possessive, demanding side of him.

I slip the jersey over my head, the thick fabric catching against my already peaked n*****s as I pull my hair free. His gaze roams over me, heavy with heat. I lean in, claiming his mouth, and savoring the feel of him, the light scrape of his stubble, and the hard, sculpted muscle of his chest under my palms.

We kiss for maybe ten seconds before his hands are on my hips, roughly turning me until we’re staring directly into the mirror again.

I meet Braydon’s blazing gaze in the reflection, and his mouth curves into a dangerous smile.

“I love seeing you in my jersey, Peach.” His teeth nip my neck, and I press my hips back into his powerful arousal. His hand slides between my legs, drawing those same slick circles, and a deeper, hotter bloom spreads inside me as I watch his hand working in the glass.

“I love when you play nice for me.” His eyes sear my reflection, watching my reaction with pure satisfaction. The friction makes me instantly wetter.

“Braydon.” His circles become tighter, and my eyebrows pull together in a knot of need. “I

don’t want to wait.”

“Greedy,” he murmurs, his voice vibrating. “So fucking greedy for me, aren’t you?”

Every stubborn cell in my body claws at me to fight, but I nod, sighing with the frustration of impatience. “I want you. Now.”

A look of pleased smugness lifts his expression, and his mouth returns to mine, kissing me with a shocking sweetness. Braydon is the perfect blend-cocky, competitive, and rough, but with a vulnerable edge that makes me melt completely. His tongue glides against mine, sucking lightly, and I breathe in his raw, masculine scent that is now forever imprinted on me.

He pulls back, turning me to face the mirror once more, his hand heavy on my shoulder for leverage as he lines up at my entrance. I flatten my palms on the bed, bracing myself.

My thoughts vanish as he presses into me, stretching me wide, and in the mirror, I watch my own lips part in anticipation. I see his slack jaw, his pinning gaze, and his large hand gripping my shoulder, bunching the jersey fabric.

“Fuck,” he chokes out as he slides his thick length fully inside me. “Holy fuck, baby.” He leans in, driving himself to the hilt while a deep, satisfying shudder rolls through my core.

“You feel so damn good,” he groans directly into my ear. Just the sound of his pleasure is enough to make me feel dangerously close.

He pulls back and slams back in, hitting a spot deep inside me that scatters sparks up my spine.

“It’s so deep this way,” I moan, clinging to the bed.

“I know.” His hand tightens on my shoulder, anchoring me while he thrusts-hard, fast, finding a relentless rhythm that pushes my nerves to the edge. “It’s so fucking good, Peach. You are exactly what I need.”

The sound of his pleasure sends another wicked ripple of heat through me. I instinctively clench down around his thick length, pulling a guttural groan out of him. In the mirror, his eyes burn hotter, focused entirely on my reaction.

“You like hearing that?” His voice is a low, teasing threat in my ear as he watches my reflection. “You like hearing that you were exactly what my life was missing, and that every second is better with you?”

My gaze drops to the chiseled muscle of his torso. I manage a shaky nod.

“Good.” He hits that particularly sensitive point again, making me choke back a whimper.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify