War (Boston Bolts Hockey #3)

28. Ava

TWENTY-EIGHT

AVA

I barely recognize myself. This woman only exists when I’m with Tyler. He has never allowed me to sit quietly like the rest of the world does. He doesn’t let me blend in. He forces me to step out of the shadows and claim what I want. And I want to be the vicious woman he claims I am. So much so that I truly believe I’m becoming her.

How else can I explain what I just did?

Stripped naked, begged him to punish me, and taunted him into pleasuring me. There is not a single other person in this world I’d even consider doing this with.

With anyone else, I’d be hiding behind layers of clothes. Though in this position, he still can’t see the insides of my arms, I’ve never allowed anyone even a chance at seeing my scars.

Now I’m going to willingly beg for his cock. “Please, Ty .”

He lowers himself until his body heat soaks into me. “I love when you call me that.” His voice is like honey drizzling over my aching nerves. “Now, do me a favor baby and remember how crazy I am about you because I’m about to do some very bad things to this perfect body.”

His warmth disappears an instant before a smack lands on my ass with a loud thwack. The burn only electrifies the vibrations from the toy. It’s like a live current racking through me.

I whimper incoherently, unable to even string together a sentence.

“Don’t whine. Tell your husband what you want. I’ll always give it to you.”

A rush flows through me at his words, at the sharp tenor and the promise it brings. And I 100 percent believe him. “I want—” I peek back at him again. “No, I need your cock. Show it to me.”

Tyler’s lips curl, as if he’s impressed with the way I phrased the statement. Like I’ve pleased him. “Eyes on me,” he commands as he slides his belt free of its buckle. He undoes his pants, and they drop to the floor with a dull thud. His shirt goes next. I practically orgasm on the spot when he grabs it by the center and rips the sides apart, sending buttons clattering to the floor. He’s been frustratingly patient in his torture so far, but not anymore. Good, let him be as desperate as I am.

“Turn around. Head down here,” he commands.

I obey quickly, spinning awkwardly with the vibrating toy still working me over. Lying on my stomach like this, the toy should remain in place, with the suction on my clit for maximum pleasure while he fucks my mouth.

And now that I’m fully facing him, I get a peek at his bare, tattooed chest, the ripples of his muscles covered in beautiful ink that I could spend hours studying.

We haven’t talked about the one on his finger. I’ll deal with whatever that means later.

In nothing but a pair of tight black boxer briefs, Tyler steps forward and grabs a fistful of my hair. “This drives me fucking wild, Vicious. I can’t put into words what color it is, but fuck, do I love it. Means I get to spend the rest of my life coming up with the perfect name for it.”

With my teeth pressed against my bottom lip, I peer up at him through my lashes. “Are you going to finish getting undressed?”

“Eager to see your cock?”

My heart thumps against my breastbone. “My cock?”

Nodding, Tyler slips his thumbs beneath his waistband and drags his underwear down his legs. “Your husband. Your cock. ”

“Kinda like my wife, my jersey.”

He chuckles. “See? I knew you were a quick learner.”

I’m all-in when it comes to banter, but the moment his—no, my —cock comes into view, any clever comeback I could formulate evaporates from my mind. “You’re…”

“Tattooed,” he finishes for me. “And pierced.”

“Does that say Vicious ?” With my heart in my throat, I study the word scrawled in black script at the base of his dick.

War runs his thumbs over the word and cups himself. “You’ve got me by the balls, baby. No sense in denying it.”

“Holy shit. That had to hurt. When did you get that?”

He strokes himself once, the movement making the black lettering inked onto the underside of his dick disappear. “The week we got married. And I like the pain.”

“Somehow that fits.”

He thumbs the set of barbells that form a cross of sorts below the head.

I meet his eye. “Can I…?”

“Vicious,” he grinds out. “You can do whatever the fuck you want to me. Suck it, lick it, tug it, bite it. Just please, put your mouth on my cock right now and take your damn punishment like the dirty girl we both know you are.”

A bolt of lust so powerful I almost orgasm on the spot floods me. I’m not that girl. Not outside this room. But here and now, staring up at this god of a man, filled with more need than I thought humanly possible, I feel powerful. In control of him.

My husband.

I open my mouth, tongue out. He steps closer, gliding his fingers through my hair with one hand, and tugs me up a fraction. Then, with his other hand, he guides his decorated dick into my mouth. The metal is cool against my tongue. It’s unexpected, and for a second, I worry I’ll gag. But he goes slow, allowing me to adjust to the feel of him. I roll my tongue across the beads, the movement pulling a grunt from him.

“Fuck, baby. Look at you, already so good at this.”

With a moan, I try to take more of him, but he tugs on my hair, stopping me .

“Slow, baby. I’ve been dreaming about this for way too fucking long. Want to last.”

I can’t go slow, though. My body is buzzing with the need to come, and with the vibrator sending waves of pleasure through me, I can’t help but slurp and suck faster, torturing him as I chase my own orgasm.

“Oh, my dirty girl can’t slow down, huh? You going to come with your husband’s fat cock in your mouth? Going to squirt all over the comforter like a dirty little slut?”

I cry out, the sound muffled as he thrusts deeper.

“Okay, Vicious.” He thrusts again and again in a smooth rhythm. “I’ll give it to you your way this time. Fast and hard.” His movements get more unsteady, the grip on my hair tighter. As he fucks my mouth, I imagine how I must look. Completely naked, humping the bed, being used to bring him pleasure. I’m pulled from that thought, my mind splintering from my body, as pleasure floods my system, and I come on a long, garbled moan.

“Yes, wife. Take what you’ve earned. Show me how beautiful you are as you break apart for me.”

And I do. I moan and gyrate, undulating my hips in time with my release until he swells in my mouth. When he comes on a curse, saying my name as he does, followed by a French expletive, I swear I’m the one who sees stars.

I’ve barely come down from my orgasm, and he’s still pulsing in my mouth when he pulls back and rounds the bed. “Get up here, Vicious,” he says, lying on his side of the bed. “Put that dripping pussy on my face and let me see how much you enjoyed that.”

The mouth on my husband.

Licking my lips, I blink up at him, willing my shaky limbs to obey.

But before I can, Scarlett cries out from her room.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

I close my eyes and take in a steadying breath. This is good. We got carried away. I almost—god. “I’ll take care of her. You had a long night.”

Tyler jackknifes up and grabs my wrist before I can slip off the mattress. “Go get cleaned up,” he murmurs into my neck. “I’ve missed the kids. Let me put Scar back to sleep. Let me take care of her, and then I’ll take care of you.”

With a gentle kiss, he’s gone.

I stay in that position, seated on the bed, naked and wondering what the hell just happened between us, for far too long.